zkzz pound for pound

The first words out of my mouth (and I swear
this is true) were, "Hey
baby, was it good for you too?"

Apparently God or whomever was at the control
of the GIANT COSMIC MAGNET that night didn't see the humor in
my remark because... immediately... a huge dresser crashed
down on my head. I managed to get out from under the dresser,
wrapped my arms and body around the lady I was with and kept
saying over and over, "Just
hang in there honey. I've got you. I've got you good.
Everything's gonna be OK."

That part about everything being OK turned out
to be somewhat of an exaggeration. Her apartment was literally
shaken apart. Pictures and photos were flung from the walls;
furniture was overturned; her refrigerator had toppled over
with the door hanging open and milk, orange juice, eggs, and
the like were spilling onto the kitchen floor; her computer,
stereo and TV were trashed; and... oh hell, you get the idea.

Finally the shaking subsides a bit and, in the
darkness guiding ourselves by sliding our hands against the
walls, we stumble from the bedroom to the living room and
kitchen areas. Whoa! Holy shit! The first of many (thousands
of them) aftershocks hit us. Somehow for some reason I end up
in the kitchen area and then, stagger back into the living
room/dining room area. "Gary!
Gary! Gary!" she screams.

"What?
What? What is it?" I reply frantically.

"You
Are Tracking Orange Juice And

Milk All Over My Carpet!"

Is that a woman for you or what? Actually,
I've noticed that all of us, as one of our coping mechanisms,
tend to focus on minutia when something monstrous is
happening. Believe it or not, her remark made me feel deeply
ashamed and I was standing there with a stricken look on my
face when, she looked at me, we both looked at the totally
devastated apartment, realized we had both been literally
shaken insane... and... we collapsed into a fit of compulsive
laughter. (Which, I think, is another coping mechanism.)

I moved back to the Keys almost exactly two
years ago. I didn't even get unpacked before me and Mongo man
(who has become one of the best copywriters in America) had to
catch the last
Greyhound Bus out of the Keys to escape Hurricane Georges. I
remember when we finally found the last two motel rooms in the
town of Okeechobee, how some dumbass woman on the phone was
interrogating the motel manager wanting to know whether or not
the place had a pool!