So that’s just what happened. Emily have left Jimmy breaking his heart – his strong irish heart. Damn, I though it’ll be impossible to hurt a grumpy stubborn Irish “bear” like him. What a knock! -. He couldn’t believe it, he didnt’ understand. He asked her why, he begged her to stay, to rithink about it, to give him an other chance. But she firmly refused. And she tragicly went away, leaving him alone, desperate, and miserabe. And damned annoying, too. I’m basically his only friend, or, at least, his only close friend, so that’s why I’m here, on saturday night, tied to the phone listening to my strange friend Jimmy’s whining.
“Peeete…I can’t believe that. Why…? Why did she left me?? It all happened so fast…I still…I can’t believe it…It’s a , feck!”
“You mean: ‘fuck'”
“I meant FECK, Pete. Like ‘fuck’ but with the e. Get a fecker Irish slang dictionary, you italian caffler”
“Uhm, I guess ‘caffler’ doesn’t mean ‘clever’, or anything nice, isn’t it, Jim?”
“Yeah, Pete. You’re a smart muppet, when you want“.
Ok, let’s say something about Jimmy before going on: when he’s a little upset, he uses to come out with close irish slang terms, which of course I haven’t got a clue about. It’s kind of annoying, but after a while you just get used to it. When all is said and done, his sometimes incomprehensible way of speaking has the good point of leaving you with the benefit of the doubt: and, I tell you, that’s really not bad, especially when he tells you things that – you know for sure – aren’t nice at all. Anyway, let’s go back to the story.
“Jimmy, I’m so sorry about it. I swear. Listen, what about going to the pub tomorrow night?”, I suggested. “C’mon, let’s get drunk…and don’t give a shit about that bitch!” I exclamed.
“DON’T…dont’ call her bitch! How dare you suggest that?!” blowed Jimmy. “Emily’s like an angel, she’s so sweet and pure…she’s not a bad person at all, she’s just…I don’t know…confused, I suppose. She is actually—“
“—a bitch!“, I continued. “C’mon mate, you have to face the reality: she has left you from one day to the next without any explanation. One day she says she loves you, and the next day she leaves you without crying neither saying goodbye. She acted like she did’t really care about you. She has broken your little heart, making him fall in pieces wothout giving a damn about it. She’s a bitch, mate, and I must tell tell you, open your eyes. It’s crap, but it’s clear: she has another man.”
“ Shut yer bake, yer eejit!” shouted Jimmy.
“Shut up, you idiot!” Jimmy repeated, ” This is bullshit! Don’t say she has another…DON’T…she couldn’t! She wouldn’t…Uuuh, feck!! Dis is tripe, damn! Shoite—” and then Jimmy continued to swear for the next 5 mins, blathering things that to me sounded more or less like: ” jjiojagyu fhopjirgui gygi bygiDHOhdo gysgaig jiojisfiu gstuaaf agdtgv—-!!!”. I told you: as my old deaf granpa used to say, it’s good not to understand a word, sometimes. Anyway, I was on the phone, on saturday night, listening patiently to my friend Jimmy swearing in irish, being secretly impatient for a pending date with a couple of quite willing hotties I met at work. As I mentioned, I’m a professional barman, and I work in a club at night. The day before two hot chicks from US came at my bar, and started openly to flirt with me – ok, they where quite tipsy, but let me say that detail only speeded up what certainly was about to happen. I mean, look at me: I’m the fucking italian latin lover, mates! -. They were called Candy and Stacey. Or Mandy and Wendy. Or…whatever, who cares. They were hot and pretty easy, and they had also those big boobs that…Ok, I think you get it. In short I had luckyly my saturday off of the month, and I had dated them two at 8 pm. Well, it was 7:15, and the poor -damn – Jimmy didn’t seem to have the slightest desire to hang on and let me go.
“Listen Jimmy”, I tryed to curtail, “I tell you, I’m very sorry about that. But I’m afraid I have to go right now, I have…well…I actually have a date, and—”
“Uh, thank you, Pete!” replied Jimmy. “A date! I’ve just been left by my girlfriend, and you leave me ’cause you’ve got a date! Very nice from you, really”.
“Yeah you’re right mate, sorry. But it’s true, I’m catching up with those two beautiful…wait a second,” I said, “why don’t you come with me? I dated two hot girls I met at the club, they’re really well-disposed, and they have those big b—”
“No no no, thanks Pete”, Jimmy stopped me, “it’s very generous from you – especially considering it’s you -, but I prefer not. It’s too early, man, Emily has left me just yesterday, and I don’t…I’m not really in the mood to see other people, especially women” he concluded. “But please, go, my friend. Go to meet those beautiful girls, go with opened arms to your lucky future. Don’t care about me, I’ll…well, I’ll just stay home, alone, with my thoughts and memories, trying to make a point and give a reason to what happened, trying to accept it and to calm myself. I’ll be ok, really. Go” he concluded. Good job: he put me in the weird place of a friend who wants to be somewhere else – and I surely have a very good reason why! -, but who remains unintentionally stucked between what he would like to, and what he should do to help a friend in trouble. I struggled a short while, I reflected, and then I said “Cool, Jimmy. I call you tomorrow. Try not to kill yourself. Byyyyye!”
“What the—??? Pete you fecker ungrateful! You djafft rhgghtert fjqow fhoahuwe——–” and so on, for the next ten minutes. And, well…that’s how I ended my saturday night off: slowly hanging up, calling the two hot chicks to rip off, then crying inside the fucking waste and get directly at Jimmy’s. What wouldn’t you do for your friends? Ah, friendship. The joy of life.