La Scorsa Notte

“So where were you?” I slid over on the stoop.

“Don't ask me because I don't remember a thing about last night. I went out to have a slice of pizza and a glass of red wine.

I headed, well I headed south or maybe north from my place. Does it really matter? I splurged and took a cab downtown or is it up uptown? Who knows?

The cabbie dropped me off at Bob and Frank's who were having a party. Well, you know Bob and Frank, lots of wine, some pretentious little reds. I always wanted to say that. The closest thing they had to a pizza was some sort of quiche with sun dried tomatoes, basil and crumbled goat cheese appetizers.

So I said no thank you and headed for the door. Down the street was Mary who was on her way to the same party because she had to go for work. So she convinced me to go back. I sat there most of the night munching on those little baby quiches and sipping some really expensive red wine that came in long thin bottles that had all that sentiment at the bottom and some times was tart and sometimes, well sometimes it just tasted like red wine vinegar.

It was late we hadn't had anything to eat yet, so we stopped by some bistro where all her friends hang out. You know the types, artsy. Some even had paint in their hair. If you ask me they just threw some chromium yellow in their hair instead of mousse to give the appearance that they were hard at work.

I need to ask you something real important.”

A pause.

“Can you take me to lunch where we can have a pizza and a glass of red wine?”