I was tellin’ SwampMan last night about how disappointed I was that he had rudely interrupted me before a colleague could explain what the nature of reality was. “Hunh?” he replied absently, not really listening while gnawing into his fried chicken, probably pleased that I wasn’t ragging on him about how we weren’t making very sensible food choices. I wasn’t saying a thing about food choices because (a) he was paying, and (b), he had just paid my vehicle insurance bill that I had forgotten. I just ate my tiny container of veggies and tried not to feel too deprived. It was self-inflected deprivation, after all. SwampMan would be more than happy to shell out the bucks for a full greasy meal so that my aura of diet do gooderness would just go away.
“You remember! Monday morning I was having a dream and one of my friends at work was just about to enlighten me as to the nature of reality when you woke me up to tell me you were leaving. You’d tried to call in for me at work but nobody was answering the phone, so I’d have to call in later.”
“Say WHAT? You’re worried about THAT?”
“Yeah! I always wanted to know what the nature of reality was.”
“Aw, hell, I can tell you about the nature of reality!”
“Oh, really? I’m probably going to regret this, but what, pray tell, is the nature of reality?”
He took a big ol’ swig of sweet tea, and told me “The nature of reality is that they will FUCK YOU at the drive through!”
I will be danged. That truly IS the nature of reality.