"Hi, I'm Chet. And this is the little woman."
That was our little joke when I would introduce us. That is, my wife and myself. Because Lois really isn't little. She's five-feet-seven. Pretty tall for a gal. The joke, as you can plainly see, is I'm the little one. I'm just six inches tall. But I'm very well-proportioned. Many people mistake me for being farther away than they realized. I'm often asked if I find my size to be a handicap. Well, I don't see it that way. Sure, I have to wear specially-made clothes, and I can't really drive a car, but I run a thriving web-based business, that's bringing in six figures, I might add. I'm active in my community, a member of the Rotary. I do speaking engagements, spreading the important message that size really doesn't matter.
People say, "Chet, it still must be tough being only six inches tall." I tell them everyone has challenges. But I've got a loving wife, and a beautiful home, everything a man could want. Well, I had everything. Then Jack and Francine came into our lives . . .
Lois and I met Jack and his wife Francine at a Rotary function a couple of years ago. We soon discovered we had a lot in common. Jack was considering going with a web-based solution for his sporting goods company, and, it turns out, Francine was just five and a half inches tall! Boy, how we laughed about that. We quickly became the best of friends. We all enjoyed boating on Lake Wachusett, Jack had a fifteen-foot Boston Whaler, and we loved to watch movies. Man, we'd get together and do two or three classics in a row, Caddyshack, The Big Chill, Jaws. We really liked Jack and Francine as people. They were fun, but seemed down to earth.
Then things changed. It was subtle at first. Lois seemed to be "tired" more frequently. Wasn't in the mood. Now, I've often been asked about Lois and me, you know, about our intimacy. Well, I can tell you we're not that different from everybody else. As I said, six inches is nothing to be ashamed of. Lois wasn't shy about her needs, and I was up to the task. As for me, Lois provided me with a male fantasy playground that you big guys can only dream about. But something was wrong. She seemed distant. When I asked if something was the matter, she'd say, "Oh, nothing, Honey." and quickly change the subject.
I believed her. You know how women can be, moody.
Anyway, one Saturday morning I'm out at a Rotary breakfast. Eggs, bacon, coffee, talk a little business, talk a little sports. Gets me out of the house for a few hours. Always see Jack at these things. But today, no Jack. "Anybody seen Jack?" I asked. Nobody had seen him. It gets to be late in the morning, things are wrapping up, and somebody suggests going to the car show at the Civic Center. Sounds good to me. I call Lois and tell her I'm going with the fellas to the car show, and I'll be home at four, maybe four-thirty. She says, "OK, Chet, take your time. Don't rush back, and have fun."
Bob—Bob Kessler—says I can ride with him. Fine. We get in the car and we're heading downtown when it dawns on me: The Frawley account! If I don't get those numbers crunched today, it's goodbye Frawley and Co.! That's a quarter mil account!
"Damn, Bob, I hate to do this, but I gotta bail on the car show."
"What's up, Chet?"
"There's some business I need to take care of, it completely slipped my mind. I'm sorry."
"Sure thing, Chet. No problem."
So Bob drops me off, and I go in the house. Nobody in the kitchen. Lois usually likes to bake on Saturdays. Maybe she's upstairs. So it takes me a while, you know, to make it up those damn stairs. As I'm climbing up I hear moaning. It sounds like Lois! I reach the top of the stairs and I head to the bedroom. I push open the door, and there's Lois, buck naked, writhing around on the bed, going "Oh, oh, oh . . ."
Frightened, I shout, "Lois, are you all right?"
She hears my voice and bolts upright, screaming! But another voice is screaming too! A tiny, high-pitched FEMALE voice! It's Francine, swinging from the nipple of Lois' left breast!
Well, things got a little crazy then. I kinda snapped, and finding a pencil on the floor, I start chasing Francine around, bent on running her through, and Lois is yelling "Stop, Chet, stop!"
So you never know, do you? You think you know someone . . . Well, if you live long enough, you'll see some crazy stuff. But, it's old news now. Lois and Francine ran off to Aspen. I still see Jack occasionally. He quit the Rotary. Poor Jack. The whole thing really did a number on him. Francine took most of what he had. Me? Sometimes I have trouble stopping at one thimble-full of bourbon. Or three. But I'm OK.
It's funny how little things can come between people, isn't it?