April 23, 2006

When I Say Dublin is a Small Town, This Is the Type of Thing I Mean

A group of us are at a beer garden for a leaving do. The talk passes from sports to injuries acquired while playing sports, to injuries in general, and one of us confesses that whenever he see someone with an eyepatch, he must stifle an urge to flip it up to see the injury below. That makes J remeber a woman she knew once, a habitue of the same bar she and her friends went to in college, tall, blond, striking, always seen wearing a black patch over her left eye.

S says: Red knows her. Ask Red about her.

Just then Red returns to the table, and when she sits, and hears the woman described, she says:

Red: Her? I know her. A friend of mine dated her brother. Do you want to know how she did it? She was riding in the backseat of a car, her brother was driving, his girlfriend in the front, and they got in an accident. The two in the front seat were fine, but she went flying, bam, right into the gear shaft. That's how she lost her eye. Oh, she's a cunt. Used to be known for giving guys rides in clubs, on the middle of the floor, under the lights and everything. In love with herself. Couldn't have happened to a nicer girl.

Posted by Diablevert at April 23, 2006 10:28 AM

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