I spent this past weekend in Memphis to play a little golf with a friend there. I drove down Friday evening and we played Saturday and Sunday. I hooked up with my golfing buddy Saturday morning at his house. Because we were going to take his vehicle to the golf course I was rummaging around in my truck, getting out golf clubs, shoes, etc. This is when I discovered my bicycle helmet in the backseat, triggering an idea for a little fun.
Before I went into his house I put the helmet on my pointy little head. I then walked around inside his house for a good 3 or 4 minutes without my buddy, his wife, their son or a visiting aunt saying a word, asking me why I had on the bicycle helmet. I was waiting for the question, “Why are you wearing that helmet?” I was going to answer, “Because I have been golfing with Steve before!” – Ba-dum-tssss – I finally asked, “Is anyone wondering why I have on the bicycle helmet?” Apparently they were not, perhaps they were practicing good manners by ignoring a faux pas by a guest. I gave them my punch line anyway… tough crowd, at least they did not pelt me with rotten tomatoes.
Either I need to get a new set of comedy writers or dive deeply, searching my twisted, troubled, tortured, tragic, traumatized, tail-spinning ghost of a soul on how the world perceives it and me… or both.
And so it goes.