"Come on, Hugo. It's America's favorite sport, the man's man's game! It's football!!!!"
"It's a field full of beautiful men with butts to die for!!!!" said Greg. He was drooling already, and we weren't even close to the pre-game.
Drew came in with groceries for dip and dinner. When he had talked to Fran about food, she replied with her usual, "Food? I have plenty of nachos and microwave cup-o'-soup."
"I just want to see that half-time show," he said. "I hear Diana Ross is looking fabulous."
Super Bowl Sunday. We are gathered to watch the game. Fran thought it would be a nice 'family' event. She wanted me to forget about the shop for a couple of hours. So she thinks my watching a game I find really boring and confusing will do that.
"Okay," Fran said as she barged into the kitchen. She was wearing all black and yellow and looked like a bumble bee.
"Gee Fran," kidded Drew. " Do I sense you're a Steeler fan?"
"Steelers rule!!!!" she cried with vigor.
"Well, I want the Cowboys to win. They have better looking uniforms and that Emmitt Smith has the body of a god!"
I looked at him. "And you have the hard-on of a hot dog." Greg was sporting a nice bulge in his pocket.
Drew tried not to look. Eric looked at Drew trying not to look. Fran went pale and opened up a bottle of beer. Greg gave me dirty look and excused himself to the bathroom.
Silence.
Drew pulled out the groceries. "Kilbasa sausage anyone?" he asked and tossed it to Eric. Everybody laughed.
We settled down in front of the television. The announcers were introducing the teams, so we all began concentrating on the players.
"Ron Woodson!!! I wouldn't mind those strong legs wrapping around me..." said Greg.
"But how could you say no to Troy? He's got a beautiful face!" said Eric.
Fran chirped in. "That's cause you have a soft spot for blonde, blue-eyed types."
"Thank God, he does," said Drew, and he hugged is lover.
"I wouldn't Neil O'Donnell's hands between my legs. He can hike me any time," added Greg.
My shop in a shambles. My life in limbo and the proverbial wolves at the door. But my peculiar family of friends around me.
Somehow, I don't think Norman Rockwell would know what to do with this picture. 
