All this happened way back in the early days when my pal Dave was married to his first wife—Rest her soul. He and I would often get together to play guitar and, um…imbibe of the herb that’s not oregano. Sometimes—Bless her heart—his wife would have some with us.
Well, he’d gone out one night to get us each a small resupply. I noodled around with this or that on the guitar. When he got home, we watched the beginning of an old movie, and I went home.
At home I turned on the rest of the movie, laid back, rolled up a “pinner”, and considered impure thoughts with Donna Reed. The phone rang and I distractedly reached across and picked it up.
God! James! Don’t use any of that stuff I gave you. You hear me?! Don’t use it! That stuff was meant for my wife! I…uh, Rest her Soul.
And that’s how Dave saved my life. How will I ever repay him?