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A Date With Murphy's Law




I finally got a response from Gals Who Like Men Over Fifty, a dating website claiming Central Oregon is a hotbed of gals who like men over fifty. Her name is Amy Foo and she just arrived from the Philippines. I read her response to my website application and I noticed she had a darn good grasp of our American vocabulary.

She likes Elvis and big American cars. I have a guitar and a 2008 blue Ford Ranger 4x4 pickup which seats two comfortably. She dreams of living on a ranch with lots of horses and cows. I live with two Border Collies on a half acre with too much lawn to mow. She loves to go out every night at the clubs to meet new friends and party. I like to stop by Murphy’s Bar after work and put down a couple of double Jack D’s while watching ESPN. She wants to marry an American cowboy who has money. I have a beat up old cowboy hat, a pair of Nocona boots, an Ada County Sheriff Posse belt buckle that belonged to my dad and two hundred bucks in my bank account.

We are the perfect fit.

She texted me saying she wanted to meet the next day at Oishi’s.

I knew I had to get into shape quickly so I drove to the Hard Body Gym downtown and watched the sweaty activity through the window until I got tired. It was a good workout. “What I won’t do for my Amy Foo,”

I then walked all the way next door to Murphy's Bar to hydrate (which is essential after a workout). I ordered double the usual amount of whiskey (which, according to some website, prevents dementia and is good for the heart) and a Hawaiian Bacon Cheese Burger for the vitamin C and manganese from the pineapple.

By the time I finished my liquid and nutrient intake at Murphy’s Bar I was feeling worthy of meeting Amy Foo. In fact, I was feeling so worthy the bartender said I had to get a taxi home.

After the cab drop I had a marathon walk up my very long driveway to my front door. I stair stepped it up to the porch and did some squats to twice retrieve the keys I dropped before successfully making it through the front door. I was exhausted. I needed a cool down so I began meditating in front of the TV.

The next day when I awoke from meditation, I found a note stuck to my forehead. It read, "Don't forget pickup truck left at Murphy's." Common sense kicked in. Who was I kidding? Thinking a broken old man like me could connect with some thirty-something Filipino gal named Amy Foo was just being Amy foolish.

I messaged Amy Foo stating I would not be able to meet with her at Oishi’s. A few moments later, I received a text saying descriptively unpleasant things about my character. Again, Amy’s grasp on the American vocabulary was astounding.

The good news? I worked out; I ate nutritional food; I prevented dementia and scurvy; and, I avoided making a fool of myself in front of a young lady who only wanted to be rich and American.

This story was written by E.C., Lawrence, who was born in Boise, Idaho. He worked in the marketing department as a writer of proposals as well as illustrating for a freight forwarding company newspaper and he was the editor and cartoonist for the company's employee monthly. He was awarded Grand Master of Fright Write by Valley Daily News in 1996 and has had two poems published by Arbiter Magazine while attending school. He has enjoyed a long career in transportation and is currently pumping gas and writing in Central Oregon.
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1 comment

  1. Little Amy Foo will never know what she missed out on!

    ReplyDelete