While at the veterinarian’s office with one of our dogs, I asked for cup of coffee. It is something they offer to the ‘parent’s of their patients,’ and anytime I can get a fresh brewed cup o’ Joe, I’m all over it.
As the coffee finished gurgling through the maker, the young lady who was making it warned, “It’s not full, that way you can add sugar and cream to it if you’d like.”
“Thank you,” I returned, “But I like my coffee undiluted.”
The 30-something woman seated at the computer screen and answering phones, laughed and added, “He likes his coffee like he likes his women — hot and…”
She paused, catching herself before she completed the thought. She finally saved herself by finally saying, “…Strong,” to which the three of us laughed.
By this time her face was as red as if freshly sunburned. So not wishing to be outdone in the ‘not politically correct department,’ I put my hands backward on my hips and in my best-Robin-Williams- from-The –Bird-Cage impression, lisped, “Don’t tell my boyfriend that!”
The young woman who made my coffee for me pee’d herself from laughter, which caused a stir in the reception area with the other two women working on the cat-side of the counter. So I took that as a sign that I better get back to the examination room with my coffee before I caused anymore trouble.
The three of us could hardly look at one another as I slinked out the front door. I think we were afraid that by making direct eye-contact we’d start laughing again.