Mort # 2

Well, Here I go again with another adventurous trip with my friend, Mort, the one who is never wrong, and always has an answer for everything. He is the type who never let’s you rest. He will drop in on you without fail, and you better be prepared for a long, and I mean a long visit, which in the end, leaves you physically, and emotionally drained. Oh, and also, very, and I mean, very angry.

On this particular day, as I sat in front of the TV set, I noticed that something was not right. It was close to 11:00 AM, and Mort had not come by my place. I began to worry, as this has never happened before. I could have called, but Mort is not the type to answer the phone. He believes that “that contraption” makes your ears shrink, thus decreasing your hearing capabilities. Well, that’s Mort.

Being the kind of friend that I am, and also a glutton for punishment, I decided to drive to his place, and check up on him. Another thing that Mort does not bother with, is, locking the doors. He believes that house keys are responsible for many of the diseases of this world. Don’t ask, his explanation would drive you nuts.

Upon arriving at his place, I walked in the house, and called out his name. I heard a faint voice coming from the bathroom, “I’m here”. I went in, and saw him sitting on the floor with his arms wrapped around the commode, in the process of vomiting. “What’s wrong Mort” I asked. “Well, he answered, I got sick, and this is what happened.” I looked at him and noticed how bad he looked. He looked pale, and his facial expression did not look right. “Mort, I asked, your face seems to be flushed?” The moment I said that, I knew I was in for a lengthy response. Mort looked at me for a long time and asked, “Is my face still there?” “Yes” I said. “Is everything in place?” “Yeah Mort, Why do you ask?” As always, his answer left me stumped. “If my face is still there, and everything else is still there, how can you ask if my face was flushed down the toilet? Some times you surprise me with your dumb questions” I just shook my head, and changed the subject.
“Mort, you have to cut down on your drinking. That’s why you got sick.” Mort’s reply was as expected. “I was working on one of those across, down pluses, (he meant crossword puzzles) and one of the hints(clues) said that sipping, is drinking one drop at a time, and since I drink a drop at a time, I sip” “But Mort, I said, you sip one bottle at a time, That’s not what they mean”! “I still say it’s a sip at a time” he said.

I stayed with him for a couple of hours, and before I left I asked him, “Mort, do you ever rationalize?” He sat there staring at the ceiling, and finally answered with a sad look on his face. “Your question brings back bad memories. I don’t rationalize, and never will, because I don’t want to go through what my parents went through during the second war”. “What’s that got to do with rationalizing Mort” I asked. “Well, he said. During the war, they suffered a lot. They had to rationalize coffee, gasoline, rice, meat, and all those other things you need in life. I hope we never have to go through that.”

I looked at him, long and hard, excused myself, went outside, looked up to heaven and said, “Lord, I know that you are perfect, and never make mistakes. I just have one question for you, WHAT HAPPENED HERE?” With that, I drove back home very, very slow, and again asked God, “Why are you punishing me this way? What have I ever done to you”? I keep asking that question, over, and, over again. Stay tuned, I think I need an aspirin.


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