Sunday, October 19, 2008
Flip owes me money.
Last night, I peeled off a tiny one-inch band-aid, wadded it up and flung it into a waste basket about 15 feet away. I didn't think it could possibly go in from that distance, considering its puniness, but I had to try because that's what I do.
I have a little-known talent. I can toss things into receptacles from across any room and nearly every time, make a basket. I am the Queen of Net. Flip has called me Wilt-the-Stilt for years. I'm sure he's jealous as he is over 6'3" and cannot do this, while I appear to be 5'1" but am really a tall person traveling incognito.
He said, "If you make it, I'll give you $100."
"Good," I said. I added a dab of saliva to the band-aid and threw it.
Ping! It went in. We both heard it hit the bottom of the waste basket.
I walked over to make sure, and there it was. I fished it out and showed it to Flip.
"You owe me $100," I said.
"It's probably just something that looks like a band-aid," he muttered. I hate it when he welches on bets with me.
"You wouldn't say that if I were a big mean burly guy with skull-and-crossbones tattooed across my chest, would you? Or the man at the grocery store today."
We saw a certifiable giant. His belt was exactly at my eye level, and he made Flip look short.
After he checked out ahead of us, I asked the clerk, "How tall do you think he is?"
"I asked him once," he said. "He's 7'2" and played basketball in college. He's not very friendly."
I already knew that. I had smiled at the guy when he caught me staring and he glowered at me. Men don't usually do that unless they know me.
I told Flip that he didn't have to pay me off instantly because it was his birthday and that wouldn't seem right. But that was yesterday. Birthday's over. I want my money.
I will need it for basketball boot camp. I am going to send my resume to the Globetrotters, who will absolutely want me on their team.