Puffing With Borat

I first met him when I was only sixty-eight. I was in the convenience store carrying a basketball when he skipped in. He was wearing a forest green pair of pantaloons, which caught my attention right away. It really accentuated his bicep, but I pretended not to notice.

I was about to set the basketball down when he slithered beside me. I guess he startled me, and I clumsily dropped the basketball right by his feet. We both bent over to pick it up. It was one of those awkward moments, and we both began to puff.

After stumbling apologies, he asked me to go to the newsstand for a cup of bouillon. I accepted, and our relationship took off from there. We didn't even know each other's names yet.

At the newsstand, I learned that his name was Borat, and that he was a cook. This was fascinating to me, coming from my career as a janitor.

I guess it was love at first puff. Some might say we had telephones in our eyes, but we felt we were perfect for each other. He was nineteen years older than I, but the age difference didn't matter to us. Even today, we are still puffing for each other.