This afternoon at the doctor’s office, a woman and I were sitting in the waiting area for the phlebotomist. She asked me what I was having done, and told me she was not looking forward to her tetanus shot. I murmured politely in response. A moment later, apropos of absolutely nothing, she said, “So what do you call two gay Irishmen?” She dropped the foul punchline and I told her I’d never heard that one.
What I didn’t tell her was that Darryl, the phlebotomist we were waiting for, had stuck me many times over the years, and not only was I quite certain that he was homosexual, but that his surname is common to both the Scots and the Irish, and furthermore he and his collection of large-bore needles were well within earshot of her and her amazingly random and indecent joke.
Luckily for her, and sadly for me, Darryl is not the malicious type.