Meet the Big Mouth

There is something to be said for not using inappropriate, or politically incorrect language, even in the privacy of your own home. Sometimes that slip of the tongue in public reveals the truth. Like when one of our city commissioners called a car load of black people the 'N' word in a road rage incident. You know that he felt so comfortable using that word that it slipped out from between his lips like butter off hot corn on the cob.

Last evening our little town had a meet the candidates night, and Mark was all gung ho on confronting the commissioner who had let that epithet fly. As a way to get me to go along with him, Mark took me out to dinner where I had a couple of beers so as to make the experience just a little bit easier. So fortified with a bit of alcohol we went to meet the bums, and after soaking in just enough of their bullshit we left city hall. "Let's stop across the street and get another drink", I suggested as we were leaving. "Sure, but I'll drive over there", Mark answered. I know it seems strange that Mark would want to drive less than a block, but he has respiratory problems and sometimes we can park in the handicapped spot right in front of the bar.

"Damn, no cripple spot tonight" I complained as Mark drove around and around the block.

Yes, I almost always call those handicapped parking places "cripple spots".

"I'll tell you what. Stop in front of the bar, get out, and I'll find a parking space."

Mark was all for it, so as he disappeared into the bar I drove down the street a full twenty feet where a lady was just pulling out of one of those cripple spots. I quickly slid in and hung Mark's permit from the mirror. I was so proud of myself that when I walked into the bar I bragged to Mark and the bar owner. "I must have the luck tonight. I got that cripple space right out front.", I said with a big smile to Mark, the bar owner, and her girlfriend who was sitting right behind her... in a wheelchair.