Black Coffee in Bed

I was out with Gwen, the Cappie, grabbing a bite to eat at the McDonald's near Fanueil Hall, when one of her friends, some frumpy guy with gross sideburns and a shirt with a picture of Klaus Kinski in Medieval armor, came to our table, lamenting his lost love.

"Nice Klaus Kinski shirt," I said.

"No, it's Viggo from Lord of the Rings dude, duh."

"First, if you ever talk to me like that again, I'll come across you with one of those high-chairs over there. Second, it's a Klaus Kinski, I'd know it anywhere."

Before he knew what was going on, I pulled it off him. While he was sitting there trying to cover his enourmous bologna tits, I found the tag on the back part of the collar.

"See that, Forrest T's inc. They make tons of great shirts, like Joe Estevez, M Doushous (sp?), Throbbing Gristle, Ilsa She Wolf of the SS... hell, they've even got a limited edition Christopher Lambert on horseback slapping another guy on horseback. That's no Viggo, baby, that's Klaus Kinski."

He took the shirt back and quickly put it on.

"Okay, okay, you win, it's not Viggo."

"Don't ever argue with me again."

"I'm not here about my shirt, I'm here because Tonya left me."

Gwen was shocked. I almost choked on my Big Mac.

"You had a girlfriend?"

"Stop it," Gwen said. "What happened? I thought you two were getting married."

"I did too. Now she's gone. All I've got is this stain on my notebook where her coffee cup was to remind me of her."

Ohhhh now she's gone, and I'm out with a friend, with lips full of passion, and coffee in bed.