Schoolteacher Fiona is on a mission for grandpa - find a missing Zimbabwean artefact, the precious soapstone "Bird of the Gods". Conrad - dodgy archaeologist contracted to the stunning influencer Amanda aka #mandalove - has the same job. When Fiona...
"I'll bet she does!" howled Rory from behind, and everyone just lost it. The Sainted One sighed and rolled his eyes. He gave a bottle of Moet & Chandon along with two crystal champagne flutes to Fiona, and continued to pass around more bottles and flutes.
"Don we now our gay apparel!" cried Hank.
"Merry Christmas, Bitches!" caroled the Empress.
As if on cue, the Daddy Bears' four children piped in with "God bless us, every one!" Conrad checked his watch. Two and a half hours to go. It was during the 'Three Frenched Men' chorus of "A Partridge with Greg Brady" when one of Drusilla's tires blew.
Almost like clockwork, and followed closely by Rory, Conrad walked down the aisle and out of Priscilla, where they joined the two women who were already at work getting the spare out of its compartment.
Ουπς! Αυτή η εικόνα δεν ακολουθεί τους κανόνες περιεχομένου. Για να συνεχίσεις με την δημοσίευση, παρακαλώ αφαίρεσε την ή ανέβασε διαφορετική εικόνα.
The two Literary Lesbian Librarians, who'd already used a jack and elevated the bus, were happy to leave the tire changing to Conrad and Rory. They rejoined the group of passengers on the beach, who were madly taking photos and stretching their legs. The sounds of seagulls, crashing surf and the crisp smell of Pacific Ocean air was a welcome change from the rowdy Christmas carol parodies and combative colognes inside Priscilla. Luckily for the group, the blowout happened right near one of California Highway One's many scenic stops.
"Reminds me of that time in '99 when I joined you and your dad on one of his cross-country hauls. That blowout happened just outside of Butte, didn't it? First time I learned how to change a tire." Loosening the last nut, they both removed the rear right tire. "He's a great guy, your dad. How's he doing?" continued Rory.
"He died in '07," Conrad replied after a minute, while placing the spare on the axle. "We were told he had stopped around 30 miles outside of San Antonio to check tire pressure – the tool was found several yards away from his body, along with some cigarette butts and an empty bottle of Jack Daniels. His wallet was gone."
"But he never smoked or drank..." said Rory.
"The highway patrolman figured some kids out for a joyride were hot-roddin' without their headlights and hit him dead-on. They never found them."
Handing him the second nut, Rory placed his hand on Conrad's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, buddy. How'd your mom take it?"
Better than I did, thought Conrad. "She knew he'd probably die on the road. At least now she's not worried about catching anything he might bring home." He caught Rory's astonishment. He's my only friend from Illinois left, and he deserves the truth.
"Look – I loved my dad! But he had a roving eye, and a pecker happy to park itself in any pretty woman he took a liking to. He made me promise to never tell mom. That part of him is a part of me too. I see a pretty woman and I can't help myself! Sometimes," Conrad said with a catch in his throat, "sometimes I'd come home from school, or from classes with Siobhan, and find my mom sobbing alone in their bedroom. I don't want to cause any woman that kind of grief. I'm not the marrying kind."
