Conversations or Fuckity-Fuck-Fuck-Frig

"Yeah, I'm not feeling too well this morning. So if you need me get me on my cell instead of the office."

"Fine, what's wrong?"

"Nothing really. Just a long weekend."

"Work stuff?"

"No. Just shot. Big storm the other night, lost power. Tree fell down in my driveway."

"Yeah. There are a lot of trees down in Ridgewood."

"What?"

"There are a lot of trees down in Ridgewood."

"Where are you? How do you know there are trees down in Ridgewood? You're supposed to be in Florida."

"Uh. Yeah. I'm not in Ridgewood I just heard there were trees down..."

"But?"

"I'm on my way back right now. I'll be back tonight."

"Fuck."

It's a good thing he's my father. Otherwise I'd kill him.

~

"Hi, Mr. Palomba?"

"Yes?"

"This is ***** from Dr.*******'s office, how are you today?"

"I was good."

"Oh, well, we just got the ultrasound results back and he wanted me to give you a call and let you know that there was a little bit of fatty liver."

"What?"

"Just a little bit of fatty liver."

"There can be just a little bit? Maybe this wasn't explained to me properly."

"Oh, well. It's just that you need to cut down on carbohydrates and sugars."

"Is that all?"

"Yes. Just watch your diet. Did you get your bloodwork done?"

"For the tenth time, yes. But I was told everything was ok."

"Well, yes, everything is fine."

"Except for the fatty liver?"

"Yes just a little bit of fatty liver."

"Like a smidge of fatty liver? A dollop? An iota?"

"What?"

"Just a little bit."

"Yes, just a little bit. Thank you. Goodbye."

"Yeah, thanks."

It's a good thing the girls in that office are cute. Otherwise I wouldn't put up with this confusing the hell out of me shit.