Joey

My best friend is Joey. We never talk but when I have a problem, I call Joey. I met Joey when we had a sinkhole in our front yard. The rain from Hurricane Ivan fell on the road in front of our house. The rainwater trailed down my driveway and disappeared into a hole that went into eternity. Joey arrived with his track hoe and dug a massive hole. There were stumps down there somewhere that had rotted, the yard sunk and a sinkhole formed. Somewhere along the way, Joey’s track hoe broke. His large piece of equipment was parked in my front yard for weeks while he waited for the delivery of a  bearing. It sat there long enough for me to get letters of complaint from nosey neighbors and the HOA. 

Years later Joey needed a vasectomy because he had too many of his own kids and he fostered another two. (He’s a do-gooder and denies his finer qualities)

I’m in the midst of Joey’s vasectomy and the phone I keep in my pocket rings. Joey asks me,” You want me to answer that”?

“Sure” I reply.

“Uh…Hello…this is Dr. Donaldson’s phone, can I help you”?

Joey for the first time in his life listened. And this is what I heard.

“Uh…no…no…I can’t let you speak with Dr. Donaldson right now. Why not? Well, he has my balls in one hand and a knife in another and I ain’t letting him speak with anyone right now”.