Dilemna: At 9:53 AM, I discovered that my keys, cell phone, and wallet were locked in the van. Damn! The strict, young, cross country coach had made it clear in his email that runners were to be picked up 10 AM, SHARP. Now what was I going to do?The series of events that followed:
Call to Richard to get key code to unlock van. Controlled nervousness. No answer.
Repeat call to Richard. No answer. Rising nervousness. F-bomb!
Call to Honey’s cell. She can reach him. No answer. Panic rising. F bomb!
Call to Honey’s house. No answer. Rising irritation. F bomb!
Call to carpool mom. No answer. Panic peaking. F-bomb!
Call friend who can help. No Answer. Coming unglued. F bomb!
Run to front yard to frantically search for neighbors. No one home. F bomb!
Call to Coach. No answer. Must leave message in calm teacher voice. F bomb!
Call to Richard. No answer. Repeat call 4 more times. F-EXPL
OSION-F%$#!Notice Noah digging in fridge. Complete hysteria unleashed in ancient Hebrew voice of Darth Vader: “GET OUT OF THE REFRIGERATOR NOW AND GO UPSTAIRS!”
Phone rings. F bomb! It’s Richard with the code!!! F bomb!
Flying like Wonder Woman, I commit 7 traffic violations at daring speeds in less than 1/10th of a mile and swing into the parking lot at 10:04 AM to find strict, young coach blithely yapping away to runners, and no one ever the wiser. F bomb!
Call from Richard. “So do you know the key code now for future reference?”
Response: uh…hmm..well..I guess I need to write that down…sometime…F bomb!
*Note to dear readers (all 6 of you): My apologies if the F bomb offended your delicate sensibilites. No harm was intended...I think.
Glad you made it in the nick of time but even more glad to know that someone besides me makes such good use of the F bomb!
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