The “Fuck Off” Story

Story #2

Fuck Off

Exhausted, we sat at the bar, my Aunt Sweetheart and I, following a harrowing day. We had just finished the funeral and disastrous funeral dinner of my three-month old daughter, Kaylee. I had picked out a beautiful restaurant to have the dinner at, but, inexplicably, the restaurant had put our part–basically my entire extended family–in the basement, which looked more like a frat house than a classy restaurant, complete with pool tables, plaid carpet, and a “Beer Blvd.” sign over the door to the bathroom. 

I was horrified.

To make matters worse, my own mother was running up and down the stairs with ketchup  bottles and silverware.

Disastrous, like I said.

With all of that finally over, and the thought of my grandmother leaning over the tiny white casket to kiss Kaylee’s beautiful face still lingering in my mind, I ordered us two stiff drinks and lit a cigarette.

I could finally relax.

Almost immediately, though, a handsome man clambered over to us and exclaimed, “Well, you two look all business-ey!”

I stared dead at him, as if to say, “What. Do. You. Want.”

He stammered a bit, uncomfortable, and asked if he could bum a cigarette. I gave one to him and he went away. 

The next time he came over, I just pushed the pack of cigarettes in his direction, without looking his way or pausing in what I was saying to Aunt Sweetheart. 

He left again.

Undeterred, he ordered us drinks and had them sent over. 

I turned around in my seat to face him and fairly screeched, “GREAT! NOW WE’RE EVEN!”

My Aunt, surprised at my reaction, simply stared at me with her mouth open. 

I apologized, and said that when I go out with my friends, they like to joke and say that, when it comes to me and men, I have a permanent “Fuck Off” sticker on my forehead.

Aghast, she declared, “Well you’re right! I almost fucked off!”