I'm guessing it was the Seis Equis* flowing through my blood that gave my stories the extra pizazz that night, for when I finished spinning the yarn about my car getting towed in Dallas requiring me to take a cab to the ghetto and the wind blowing my tie in such a way that freaked me out and probably saved my life because, frankly, who is going to mess with a crazy guy?, she asked, "Do you have more of those?"
Frankly, I was shocked at how bad that question stung. The next moment was one of those eternity-of-thought-within-a-five-second-period-of-time moments. I stared out the window nervously playing with the peppermint in my mouth.
Yeah, I've got more of those.
I can tell you about going to the store as a child and having to purchase the "Husky" jeans just like Bobby in King of the Hill and how painfully true his emotions rung. I'd make you laugh with my well rehearsed bit about how my Dad loves the show but doesn't think it's funny. It's almost as if he's watching a reality show.
You want sad? Sit back and I'll tell you that The Kite Runner affected me so much because at the end of the novel I felt deeply what Amir felt, the desire to be in friendship with people where the statement "For you, a thousand times over," was mutual and reciprocated and where wrongs were righted and love was shared. I knew Kyle would feel the same way so when he asked me to give him a reading list for his Sabbatical this summer, it was the one I told him he absolutely had to read. He loved it and it was the last work of fiction he ever finished. I can tell you about that, if you want to hear.
I've got stories alright. There's the one about me running naked from a 120 degree sauna to a 35 degree pond and the one about Jude and the bottle of Shiner. I can even tell other people's stories. Like the one Jordan told me about Keely and her new toy or my dad and the Ex-Lax.
Funny? I've got you covered. Earlier in the day at the Southwestern Seminary workout facility I signed my guest pass "Greg Boyd," and laughed at my subtle humor and how it was probably lost and how I should have used "Bill Clinton" or "John Shelby Spong," but how Fortenberry laughed at it anyway. I'll then turn the corner on funny and head down the road to sentimental and tell you how special it was for me to be able to spend time with him this weekend and how I feel we both feel in some ways that we are all that's left.
I've got stories for you.
But when I told you earlier I can't stay out too long because I have to get up early to be back in Waco for church in the morning and you said, "Why don't you just go to church here in Dallas," I realized that you may never know me, no matter how many stories I tell.
I came out of my trance.
"Stories?" I said. "Yeah, I've got stories."
"No, you dumbass... peppermints!"
Oh, yeah, I've got those too. You want to know how I got them?
(*Seis Equis= Three Dos Equis.... I didn't want you to think I was THAT bad of a drunk.)