I made my way to the bar in a blur of tears and pulled up a stool next to my buddy.
“Sayyyy, Frank,” I drawled, my voice almost throttled by anguish.
“Sorry pal, I ain’t Frank,” came a reply: gruff, blunt and weary sounding. When I cleared my eyes, there was this fat guy, looking how I felt. In that moment, my life changed forever.
We gazed at each other for one helluva time, the sadness written on both our faces slowly erased by the emerging frisson swelling between us. Hesitantly he reached out and stroked the back of my hand.
“You’re...you’re beautiful,” he said. Unable to help myself, I leaned in close till my sweater brushed his jacket, and kissed the whiskers poking from his ear.
“You too,” I replied, astonished by what I was doing. Normally I’m a female bodybuilder kinda guy.
Stroking my hair, he tilted his head to one side and with earnest, said, “whatever it is, I can make it better, I swear.”
That’s when the tears started rolling.
“My puppy just died,” I wailed. He threw his arms around me and held me close, drenching my shoulder with tears.
“Oh Christ, you poor thing...” I tellya, this guy had a black belt in sympathy, and I felt bad for not asking after him.
“So, what’s troubling you?”
“I’m Evil Editor,” he replied with a sigh. “People say they worship me but really they hate me. *blub* I just need someone to...to love me...”
He smiled — soppy and wet, like a senile old woman offered chocolate. “Oh, yes! Yes!”
Colour returned to his cheeks as he stood up and collected our tab.
“Come on gorgeous,” he beamed. “Let’s go find a hotel...”