Tonight I played a concert. Not unusual for me, true, but bear with me. I have a point. The concert was long and grueling - 2 hours of Sousa marches and pop music. Normally, I have someone else playing my part and we spell each other so we don't have to play each and every off beat. He was not there tonight. (lame. what's in Boston, anyway?) So, I played the part myself. And I did pretty darn good, too! (I don't care what Jane Doe might think about it. and don't get me started on her right now. That's a gripe session for another post.) Anyway, back to the point. I did well, but given my lip injury of Monday and the fact that I don't usually play the whole thing, my lips were SORE after the concert (still are.)
So, Phil and I went to IHOP after the concert and I started icing my lip. We got up to leave and the following conversation took place at the cash register:
cashier (a girl): your total is $25.25
Phil: pays (don't worry, I gave him cash for my half earlier)
Me: Man, my lip REALLY hurts. You've got to stop beating me, Phil. Seriously.
Cashier: *nervous look* *thought bubble appears reading "is she serious? No, she can't be. But what if...."
Phil (as we're walking away): Well, if you'd just do what you're told.....
Man, I hope she knows we were joking.
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