I was sitting out on the balcony, sipping on a Simpler Times lager when Ronnie came in through the glass door.
“Hey, Kurt.” his grin pulled his cheeks up and out like Howdy Doody. Ronnie hadn’t always had the best luck with life, women, money, or anything. He always said it was probably the paint chips he ate as a kid. I didn’t doubt it.
“Hey, Ronnie. How was AA?” I sipped at my beer, slowly, enjoying it. I suppose I should have tried to be a little tactful around the guy, but the world isn’t gonna stop drinking just because he is. Still, I kind of enjoy rubbing his face in it on some level. If I was a chick, I’d be the kind that’s always making out with her tall, big-cocked boyfriend around all her fat and lonely friends. I am a bad man.
“Oh, it’s good. One of out members had their birthday today. We had a big cake and stuff.” Ronnie licked his lips. Cake excited him; I needed another beer.
“Birthday, huh?”
“Yeah. He’s been sober for five years today. I’m so impressed with him!”
“So, it’s a Sober Day?”
“Yeah. It’s a milestone thing. We like to celebrate those kind of achievements so people don’t slip back into old habits, you know?”
He nodded real fast. I felt compelled to at least nod slow back at him. He snapped his head back in place like a gopher popping out of the ground. “Yeah, so we ate all the cake, but I brought back some empanadas.”
“Good for you, Omar!” a neighbor’s voice shouted from the window below us. We shrugged at each other.
“What’re empanadas?” I said while squeezing past him. I opened a fridge and saw a big pink box next to my beers.
“They’re, like, little Mexican hot pockets. These ones have chicken in ’em!”
“I guess I’ll try ’em out, Ronnie. Thanks.” Experience has told me that anything in a big pink box is delicious, no matter how Mexican it may be.
“Well, me and a friend are going to go bowling tonight, so I’m going to get ready.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
I heated up a plate of empanadas, took an extra beer and went out to listen to the traffic. The empanadas were delicious.
Awesome Pie! 