You know I've probably managed to hype this whole introduction thing up to levels it never should have approached. It seems that the more I think about what I want to say about my cousin Jennifer the less I actually know about her. I suppose the easiest place to begin is at the top.
Jennifer is divine. No. Really. She has a degree from Vanderbilt University and everything that testifies to her divinity. Or something like that. All I know is that she knows enough to have the legal authority to pronounce my see-store married. Which she did.
Jennifer doesn't drink very often. As a matter of fact she is what you could call a lightweight. She is so lightweight that when she goes out drinking with, say, two of her cousins, her pores open up after the first drink and begin emitting highly flammable alchoholic fumes. In fact - I distinctly remember being one of those cousins present on a particular familial gathering, watching from a distance...
I was standing next to our waitress in the recesses of a dark hallway. It was around the Christmas holidays and the bar was full of people having a problem maintaining their sobriety - So much so that the CD that was playing had been stuck on a skip for about three minutes before I nearly lost my shit. I stood up and mosied over to our waitress and asked her if she could hear anything amiss. She stared vacantly for a while and then admitted that,
"Oh yeah. Oh my gawd! How long has that been doing that?" I told her it'd been long enough. "Well," she slurred. "Why don't you come back here and help me pick out another CD?"
Cue the wah-wah.
So there I was, being led back through this dark hallway by this attractive, curvy, if not all that intelligent waitress - into the recesses of the bar, the back office even, where she began fumbling with the keys. While waiting I just happened to cast a glance towards our table and noticed that my cousin Jennifer was having a hard time hearing exactly what it was my cousin Brian was trying to tell her. Now, I don't know if that was because of the din of the crowd, the skipping of the CD, or Brian's softspoken manner -- but most likely it was these three factors combined along with the long curly Yezbickish locks that flow from Jennifer's head. Those Medusa strands had already ensnared a few admirers, making for some interesting observations of, well, I wouldn't even call it coquettish ways. It was more or less a sort of informed befuddlement on the part of my cousin. I think those interactions were dragged out for our own amusement.
Anyhow -- the strands of hair. Why do I think they were the culprit? Well, as I was saying - I was about to get a groove on with the waitress*...er, an actual groove - as in the CD sense, because the older one was skipping - when I looked over and saw my cousin Jennifer leaning across the table -- her long strands of curly Medusa like hair dangling...Right. Into. The. Candle.
I can't remember exactly how much hair product she had put in her hair for the night out on the town -- but that top went up in flames. Let's just say that the dark recesses the waitress and I had retreated to were no longer dark. The entire bar, as I recall, let a sudden hush fall over it. It was kinda like those cartoons where there is a gigantic flash in front of a bear's eyes and all of a sudden where once there were pupils - now there are hypnotic black and white swirly spiralling thingamajobbers. The sudden stun passed for most everyone else - but my cousin Brian was now assisting Jennifer in beating out the flames. This particular scene was reminiscent of the tortorous times my brother, or Uncle Jim, or see-store for that matter would continuously repeat that god-awful phrase "Why are you hitting yourself?"
As they had succeeded in dousing the flames -- I had managed to make several steps towards the table. Both the waitress and I saw the "inferno" and had come to check out the damage. It wasn't long before the entire bar began to smell like burnt hair -- and a sudden mass exodus was underway. Where once it seemed like unthinkable good-n-plentys were to rain down on me for no apparent reason other than the goodly graces of the holiday spirits - now there was simply that horrific stench driving a wedge between us. Hmmmm. I can't remember her name.
But Jennifer might. In fact -- before we were making our way back into the recesses of the bar it was Jennifer who recognized the waitress from some of her classes while she was still working on her degree. It was Jennifer who coaxed the waitress into sitting down with us and chatting. It was Jennifer who told the waitress that indeed I too was from Atlanta. It was Jennifer who put the whole thing in motion -- and then burned it all to the ground.
Ladies and Gentleman -- it was Jennifer who was bit by a Brown Recluse - and has lived to tell the tale.
I give you,
Jennifer...
*I think she was tootin. How else can you explain it?
P.S. There may have been some selective memory involved in this recollection. No matter --
It's an introduction...
Jennifer - the floor is yours.
