drat fink

spit shined

maybe i should have dratfink be a compendium of my finkish outbursts. and if you are thinking thats what it already was, well, youd probably be more right than wrong.

offered someone a can of beer that was left in my fridge, a gift from one of my many admirers. the object of my largesse requested a napkin to clean off the top of the can, an ablution he said he performed on all canned comestibles prior to intake. i made a move toward a piece of cloth hanging from a cabinet door in order to render complete this act of kindness, at which point said object of said largesse made a point of saying that said piece of cloth was an unacceptable alternative. now, i havent had napkins in my apartment for years but i just happen to have some now and they just happen to have been hanging in a bag just next to the aforementioned cloth. so i reached into the bag of napkins and pulled one out, then wrapped it around the beer. but my general disgust at the request and the tone with which it had been leveled required some sort of response. and i found a perfectly good one, too, welling up in the recesses of my pharynx. thats right, just before thrusting the beer forward into his germaphobic mitts, i spat on the top of the can. needless to say, that beer went unconsumed.

so let that be a lesson to you, if you take a can of beer from my fridge, youd better wipe it clean, it might be, um, unsterile. just dont ask for a napkin.