I KNOW IT’S CHRISTMASTIME. I DON’T HAVE A CHRISTMAS STORY, BUT HERE’S A THANKSGIVING STORY AS A CONSOLATION PRIZE
Drunken Wit
My wife and I had everybody over for Thanksgiving. I was well and truly drunk as we sat down to eat
We had quite the mix of friends and family over for that Thanksgiving. Among them were our children’s godparents, old friends from everywhere and everything, and of course our own family.
It was a wonderful Thanksgiving in the wonderful house that I’d built up on this mountain in Portland, Oregon. At the time I was drinking heavily — which reduced my intelligence to something resembling that of normal people. But somehow my wit was increased, or at least was unrestrained.
My wife Sylvia, a narcissist, was the perfect foil for my wit. Her wit was witless.
Somebody at the dinner table made a humorous comment, to which my wife drew a blank face. Everybody was focused on the interaction, which set me up perfectly.
I commented, “Don’t mind Sylvia. She has a lighter sense of humor . . . as in… zippo.” Her blank look only made the joke funnier. Or maybe my drunkenness made me think I was funny. Or maybe it was like we were a freak comedic team — like some acts from the 1930s.
Sylvia has a lighter humor — as in, zippo.
I don’t know. I’m lucky that I remember anything from that Thanksgiving dinner.
Sorry. There’s no moral to this tale. It’s just a tale, and a true one at that. A husband and wife team of a drunk and a narcissist can be entertaining or kind of sick. At least that’s how it felt to me as a member of that troupe.
Fred Ermlich
