Darn You to Heck, Zach Galifianakis

Coming back from the Bellingham Bells game last night, I stopped at the usual cheap gas store on the Hannegan and the East Indian guy behind the counter again commented that I look like “that guy.” You know, the one from the movies.

“Zach Galifianakis,” I said, again.

“Yeah, the guy from Due Date,” he said. “Very funny.”

Normally, that’s where this Syssiphean exchange ends but last night he threw a curve ball by asking, “Do you do comedy too?”

Now I don’t know what came over me, but I decided to tell him a joke.

“So there’s this old couple,” I said, “and they’re walking along a beach.”

He nodded.

“The wife turns to the husband and says, ‘Dear, there’s something I have to tell you after all these years. I have always loved you but I haven’t exactly always been faithful to you.’

“And so he wants to know what the hell she means by that.

“She says, ‘Well, during our marriage, I have cheated on you three times.’

“And so the husband wants to know, ‘When were these three times?'”

Gas station guy’s eyes got bigger.

“She says, ‘Well the first time was, Do you remember when we were trying to get that loan for our first house and we were having a really hard time of it and the loan just seemed to miraculously come through?’

My cashier chin-checked that one along with the husband.

“She continues, ‘Well, I kind of, well dear I slept with the loan officer.’

The husband, I told him, kicks some sand and utters a mild swear under his breath, then says, “Now, I don’t think you should have done that, but it was a long time ago and you were trying to help us out, so I can forgive that one but-”

I paused and held up two fingers. East Indian dude focused on them like a laser beam.

“-what about the other two?’

“The wife says, ‘Well do you remember that time when you were really sick and the doctor came to the house and prescribed those antibiotics?’

“She explains, ‘Doctors, I found out, really hate making house calls. I finally had to sleep with one of them to get him out here.'”

My cashier laughed a little.

I went on, “The husband breathes a sigh of relief. He says, ‘OK, you were worried I was going to die, so I can understand that. Not a problem.’

“Then he adds, almost as an afterthought and with a dismissive wave of the hand, ‘What about the other one?’

“She says, ‘Well dear, do you remember that time when you were running for mayor and you were down by about 300 votes…'”

He didn’t get it.