Column by Chris Graham
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“Ever used performance-enhancing substances?”
My friend Eli. I’m sure he had an angle.
“Do M&Ms count?”
“Funny. And?”
I couldn’t think of any. Not that I’m morally opposed.
“Nah. I’m too cheap,” I finally settled the matter.
Which is pretty much it. Well, there’s that, and what good would it do me?
“Chicks dig the long ball,” my other college buddy, Mordecai, chimed in.
“And they ask me to hit the long ball – how often?”
I mean, there was that one time, in band camp.
“I go to the batting cage like, once a year,” I reminded the guys.
“I used ’em,” Eli commandeered the conversation.
Ah, the angle.
I’d had it figured.
“Back in ’03, ’04,” I guessed.
“Back when I started packin’ the pythons, baby,” he said, referring to his guns, er, his biceps.
“I liked how you changed your whole wardrobe to feature wifebeaters,” Mordecai said.
“And got the barbed-wire tattoos to match,” I added to the imagery.
“How did that work for you?”
Silence.
“Remember when he got mad at you during that Super Bowl when you were making fun of the Cialis and Viagra and Enzyte commercials?”
Thanks, Mordy. Now it was making sense.
“So, all the blood went to the pythons, huh?”
“Categorically untrue. OK, it was true. But since you’re going to write about this …”
Yeah, sure, ladies.
You see Eli out there at the bar on Friday night, whatever …
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