Iâ€™ve had many brief conversations with my mailman, but the last one was too long and towards the end he said, â€œWe should get a drink sometime,â€ and because I wanted to still receive my mail and not to be rude I said, â€œSure that sounds like a good idea.â€ He ruined my life by saying, â€œGreat, Iâ€™ll pick you up at 8.â€ And with a big smile on his face he laughed, â€œDonâ€™t worry, I know where you live.â€
â€œSo how many dogs have you been bitten by?â€ I asked. Then I yawned.
He looked at me while squeezing his lime into the gin and tonic and said, â€œA better question would have been: How many dogs have been bitten by me?â€ He took a sip.
I wondered if this was a date or whether I was about to be a serial killers first victim. I hoped it was the latter and excused myself to the restroom hoping to find a suicide bomber who was having second thoughts so I could convince him to go through with it.