Barfing With Vivian

I first met her when I was only forty-one. I was in the movie theater carrying a toolbox when she sprinted in. She was wearing a red pair of nylons, which caught my attention right away. It really accentuated her nostril, but I pretended not to notice.

I was about to set the toolbox down when she waded beside me. I guess she startled me, and I clumsily dropped the toolbox right by her feet. We both bent over to pick it up. It was one of those awkward moments, and we both began to barf.

After stumbling apologies, I asked her to go to the barbershop for a beer. She accepted, and our relationship took off from there. We didn't even know each other's names yet.

At the barbershop, I learned that her name was Vivian, and that she was a soccer ball salesman. This was fascinating to me, coming from my career as a butcher.

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