Friday, August 05, 2011

Why I don't take chances

One night around June 1999, my then-girlfriend’s friend dropped by my house unannounced. He asked me if I would vouch for him spending the night there if anyone asked. In reality, he was heading to his girlfriend’s house. Though he was over 18, he lived with his parents and they didn’t approve of such sinful hijinks. So he told them he was staying with me and gave them my phone number. I consented, but I was worried that my terrible lying skills would show through if his parents called.

“How likely are they to call?” I asked.

“Someone would have to die,” he replied.

We laughed.

His best friend died that night in an accident.

His father called the next morning. He didn’t believe my cover story. He fussed at me. My friend not only lost his buddy, but also got in trouble.

And that is why I don’t take chances.

2 comments:

venessalewis said...

Ok....where the heck did this come from? I mean, what sparked this blog? Interesting story nonetheless.

Ian McGibboney said...

Actually, it came from parking my car last night. The closest available space was between a car parked somewhat diagonally and that classic car that's always got the tarp on it. I got really close to the tarp car, thinking if it hadn't moved in a month, it wasn't about to tomorrow. But then I thought, "Yeah, that's probably the day they move it and I get scraped." Because things like that happen to me. That's what made think of this.