Mr. Fun Some time back when I worked in Greensboro, NC one of my coworker’s (Mr. P) had taken me to Hooter’s for a beer after work for my birthday. So a few months later I decided to repay him by doing the same. Mr. P had taken his car to the dealership for work and needed a ride home. He had asked me if I could give him a lift so I replied sure but let’s go to Hooter’s for a beer. Well we get to Hooter’s order a pitcher and something to eat. We ate, finished the pitcher, got another one and then I asked Mr. P if he had called his wife to let her know he would be late getting home. After all she just had a baby a few weeks ago. He said no so I told him he better call now. He tried but said he talked to the kids. Anyway, we finally leave and are headed for Mr. P’s home. So ask what the phone number for your home is. He gave it to me, I dialed the number, and Mrs. P answers. “Hey little lady this is Ron from Mr. P’s office. I’m to bring him home but I forgot which strip joint to pick him up at”. Click goes the phone. Mr. P calls and she hangs up on him. This is really not looking good for when we get to the old homestead. Well we get to Mr. P’s house go in, sit down in the kitchen, get another beer and Mr. P’s oldest daughter comes in to join us. I’d say she was probably six or seven at the time. Anyhow after about fifteen minutes the doorbell rings. Mr. P’s little girl answers it and a police officer comes into the kitchen. Did anyone here call 911? No me because I don’t know where the phone is. Mr. P stated he didn’t call either. Well the office says, someone here did. Sorry but can’t think of who may have called and there’s nothing wrong here. So Mr. Officer leaves. What the hell was that about? Well Mrs. P comes downstairs and I’m introduced to her and Mr. P’s other youngin. Mrs. P isn’t really happy so I said goodnight and have a good one. The next morning after arriving at the office Mr. P tells me his little girl was the one that called 911. Okay but why? Who knows? But she has named you Mr. Fun. Peg and I were invited to Mr. P’s for dinner and upon arrival the kids showed me where Mr. and Mrs. Fun were to sit at the dinner table. Our places were marked with place cards Mr. Fun and Mrs. Fun. So for those of you that remember this you can just call me Mr. Fun!
Posted on: Sun, 23 Jun 2013 01:36:02 +0000
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