Just a little Barbeque Sauce

Sunday, February 15, 2009

When I was in college, I took a semester off because I was having some surgery. During that time I worked at a jewelry store in New Canaan, CT that sold mostly inexpensive silver jewelry- it was a very popular store and the antics and shenanigans that went on there are absolutely a topic for another posting. But the only source of joy I had while working there was that I developed a friendship with a girl named Dawn. Twenty years later and a lot of ups and downs, twists and turns, I carry Dawn very close to my heart and our friendship is very important to me. However, the base of our friendship has always been LAUGHTER. And Dawn loves to laugh as much as I do. She also has a very dirty sense of humor- which I love.

Shortly after my stint at the jewelry store, I returned to college and Dawn moved out to California in a totally Scooby Doo-style van with her then boyfriend Ryan. Dawn has had many jobs, but one in particular has become legendary because of the following story. Dawn worked for a Korean Dry Cleaners in California, which was next to a Porn Shop. Dawn has endless tales of “things” she would find near her car – all stemming from someone’s visit to the Porn Shop. Dawn’s boss at the Dry Cleaners was a man named Mr. Kwan.

Mr. Kwan, the owner of the cleaners, had two rules, 1) Always check the pockets and 2) Do NOT accept anything with feces on it, because when garments are steam cleaned, the feces really stinks up the joint. So one day, a really old black man came into the dry cleaners with a pair of pants that had diarrhea all over the back of them. And he said “Uh, these pants have a just a little bit of Barbeque Sauce on them.” Dawn, seeing the pants, said “Barbeque Sauce, huh?” And the man said “Yeah, just a little Barbeque Sauce.” So Dawn, feeling badly for this old man, just took the pants rolled them up and tossed them in the bin, knowing full well the “shit storm” no pun intended that would reign down upon her.

An hour later Mr. Kwan starts screaming “DAWN, YOU TAKE SHIT- I TELL YOU NEVER TAKE SHIT AND YOU TAKE SHIT. I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU TAKE SHIT- I TELL YOU NEVER TAKE SHIT!!!” And Dawn said as calmly as can be “I’m sorry, the customer said it was just a little barbeque sauce.”

When Tony and I bought our house, the day after we closed, we adopted Briscoe. So we were in this new house, with this new dog, and Briscoe must have been nervous. He had been shuttled around to various places and with various people- he didn’t know that this was where he was going to be staying for the rest of his life.

I woke up in the middle of the night because I could hear Briscoe moving around the room. And I woke up, and there was just enough light to reveal his silhouette squatting in my (thankfully empty) closet. I sprang out of bed yelling “No, No, No” and trying to get a crapping pit bull (that I don’t know that well) downstairs and outside. So poor Tony (there’s that nickname again) gets up like a trouper and starts to clean up the pile of diarrhea that Briscoe has deposited in my closet. I came back upstairs and Tony was ranting about how gross it was and I said “Honey, it’s just a little barbecue sauce.” And Tony started yelling “No it isn’t- it’s SHIT, it’s STINKY, SMELLY SHIT!!!” I was laughing, but he didn’t see the humor.

The next day, I called Tony at work and he was recounting how disgusting it was and I again said “Hon, it’s just a little barbecue sauce.” Tony hangs up and calls me back 5 minutes later and says “Can you come pick me up? I just got sick thinking of the shit.”

God bless him, I took him home, and thought of Dawn because it was, after all “Just a little Barbeque Sauce.”


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