Bathroom Monologue: Chance Encounters of the Third Kind

Before we knew it, Wakeem was pulled aside by Uncle Archie. Uncle Archie was a good guy, but the Gulf War disillusioned him. By disillusioned, I mean that he rarely leaves his room, updates his blog every four hours, and gets hives if he's away from cable news for too long. And Wakeem was sucked into that smoky, dimly-lit room for the entire party. At midnight he stumbled back out again. My erudite friend, who I was supposed to take care of while he was in our country, and forgotten almost all the English he'd learned at university, in favor of three phrases: "National healthcare is for pinkos and border jumpers," "In cash please now," and "I don't like the women. They are having the AIDS." It didn't help that he debuted the third phrase on my mom while she was offering him finger sandwiches.