I have a buddy. Let’s call him Mope. We graduated high school together in Columbia back when there were only five villages and they all had grocery stores. Mope was not what you might call academically inclined but he made it through and matriculated with the rest of his class. As others went off to college Mope hung back, taking a few courses at HCC initially but not for long. He tended bar for awhile and eventually made a career out of selling cars.
Mope was always fun to party with and he liked to party. In fact, he liked to party a little too much. Over time, as most of the rest of our class moved on with marriage, jobs and kids, Mope sort of stayed behind and tried to keep the party going. He married once but never had any kids, which is fortunate because Mope is an alcoholic.
I don’t see much of Mope these days. He no longer works, his disease took a bad turn a year ago and it did some serious damage both mentally and physically. He doesn’t drive anymore (again thankfully) and his daily routine is a far cry from mine. Still, every other month or so, we talk on the phone. The other day, out of the blue, Mope called me.
“Did I call you at a bad time,” he asked
“I’m just driving over to Costco to pick up a few things.”
“There you go my brother. You and I are in sync again today.”
“I was just calling you to tell you about this great salsa I got from Costco. It’s a peach and mango blend. I put some on some salmon the other day and it was da bomb.”
He proceeded to tell me exactly where in Costco I would find this particular salsa. He even gave me the brand name. We hung up when I pulled into the parking lot.
“Check it out,” he suggested as we concluded the call.
Sure enough, it was right where he said it would be. I picked up a jar and then reeled in some salmon from Trader Joe’s.
Mope was right. It was “da bomb.” This stuff on fish makes an easy and very tasty summer meal.
Desperate English Housewife in Washington, chapter 574
40 minutes ago