Exit, Stage Left

The beer is gone. The hummus is gone. My patience is gone.

I worked all week. I drove 80 miles to get here. I encountered a predatory, dive-bombing bat and had to call in reinforcements. I am pooped. The reinforcements have to go.

Bo is talking about Shakespeare and high-minded, esoteric movies and obscure books. Karl is flirting shamelessly with Kate. He'd started to flirt with me, but I can frost a room full of unwelcome suitors better than most. That lasted a minute and a half. (It's my gift.) Kate is much more easygoing, however married. She's a natural flirt but never forgets her boundaries. It's hilarious to watch. And frankly, she is the only girl I know who can look like a blond bombshell in a ripped Packers t-shirt, shorts and flipflops.  J-Lo would have less luck. She is charming and funny and actually making fun of Karl in a way that he doesn't know, but I do.

But my patience is razor thin and my eyelids are heavy and I am having trouble maintaining a remotely hospitable demeanor.  It starting waning as the keg sputtered dry, natch.

So as Karl flirts his face off with the unattainable Kate, and Bo prattles on and on passionately about MacBeth, and I think "Out out damn spot and damn bat and damn men and damn lights" I go around locking the doors I'd dashed through running from the bat, and blow out candles, and fold towels from the drier, and turn off the porch lights that seemed so inviting. True, I'd left the light on for them, and now, I've turned it off. I want to scream, "Thanks for your heroism, friends. It's been lovely, but now Mama needs her beauty sleep or her fabulous boyfriend Scott will think she's a hag in the morning, so please see yourselves out, and don't let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya." 

Or as Lars would have said, "Don't let the doorknob get stuck in your asshole."  He really had a way with words.

I begin to load the dishwasher. I audibly lock my car door with the remote. I yawn loudly enough that the cat seems startled.  I sit at the table and look at my watch. I smile a tight lipped fake smile at Bo, who seems to have picked up on the smoke signal. He makes a yeoman's attempt to pry Karl from his end-stage cling-fest with Kate.  Eventually, Karl caves and follows Bo out the door where I am sure they will fall down the steps. I hope they have cell phones. I am not calling 911 and prolonging things for one more minute.

Kate and I pile into our beds.  We are laughing still about our adventure. Truly, if I had to have a close encounter with a bat and act like a two year old and have to invite strange men into the house to help me, there is no better friend on the planet to have along for the ride.