Yesterday, my brother Scott and I shot in the 2nd Annual Rock Bottom House Shoot with a friend. (The Rock Bottom House/Café is an establishment in Odessa, owned and operated by Tamara Moersch. This place is a great café by day, and after lunch opens up to at-risk youth around 2pm. It’s a safe place for them to hang out, receiving tutoring and counseling, play pool, and do their homework. And the shoot is the Rock Bottom House annual fundraiser.)
We had a great time, the weather was beautiful. The shooting lesson I took last week helped me get back on track, though I must say that Little Brother is quickly creeping up on my score, and he’s had zero lessons. He’s just a natural.
When we were young, Scott and I attended a private school where French was a part of the scholastic requirement. As such, we learned quite a bit of the language, though we rarely utilize it today. We sometimes lapse into French without even thinking, especially on the easy stuff.
We’re in the shooting cart (i.e., glorified golf cart) with our friend, who is driving. I'm sitting next to him, Scott is in the back seat. Our friend is the epitome of a smart-alec. He is one of those guys who loves to have the last word ; however, he has a huge heart and we love him. I can’t even remember how it started, or what we were discussing, but it went something like this:
Scott: I got it.
Janie: Pardonnez-moi, sil vous plait?
Scott: J’ai comprende.
Friend, out of the blue: Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Scott and I look at each other in shock, and try not to crack up. I mean, this guy is a customer. I can’t even breathe, I’m trying not to bust a gut laughing. Our friend looks at us, quizzically. He knows something’s up, he’s just not sure what it is.
Friend: What? What?
Janie (when I can talk): Ummm…do you know what you just said?
Friend: Well, no. I'm pretty sure it’s French, though.
Janie: (Man. I really don't want to do this.) You just said, “Will you lay down with me tonight?”
Friend, deep red in the face: I didn’t know what it meant, just that I thought it was French or something.
Scott and I trade looks, share a quick smile, and promptly change the subject. We're good like that, you know.
*Song reference: ONE THING LEADS TO ANOTHER, The Fixx, REACH THE BEACH album, 1983