I sat down at the computer again while watching Mason try to put together a new gadget he had bought only to have it all come crashing down to his feet. I just laughed.
"I think you can give up on that. Call a professional." I announced with a chuckle as he just threw me a glare.
"You just write Lover Boy and give me some space Harrison. Tell him hi for me." Mason quipped as he turned back to the task at hand. I had only one thing in mind. The same thing I had been obsessing over for weeks as I sat every night in front of my computer talking to 'him.' We discussed everything from our views on which musicians were better to why Orange County Chopper was decidedly one of the best shows on earth—at least to him. I had quickly learned that he was a sports utility kind of man with a love for Italian food and a passion for speed. He quickly learned I was a rocker at heart with a passion for pajamas, cheeseburgers, and absurd comments or ideas. I shook my head at Mason as I logged on only to stare at the message in front of me with disbelief. I dropped the cup I was holding in my hand to the ground unceremoniously—watching Mason dive for it in vain—not making it in time to save the carpet from the stain that now inhabited it.
"What the hell, Harrison?" Mason asked as I just continued to gape. Mason leaned over my shoulder and whistled.
"Wow! What are up going to do?" He asked as I sat back in the chair—perusing the screen one last time:
I've almost tied things up here at home. But I have one more thing I have to attend. It's the family reunion from hell. I'm living in Montana. How would you feel about going with me? It took me three hours just to type that one sentence—I have hesitated above the keys trying to decide if this was just a stupid idea. I'm not a rash man so I'm not sure about this whole decision on my part. Actually, I'm not sure I've even thought this through. I guess I'll let you decide Ms. puppetonastring. It's still a week from now. We have plenty of time to discuss it. From the master.
--puppetmaster