Mark has always had lousy timing . . .
He never failed to show up at the worst possible instant.
Like the time we were out dancing and I got cornered by my drunken ex, Joey who seemed determined to fuck me right in the middle of the dance floor. Mark showed up just at the wrong moment and tried to convince Joey that we were together, which reminded him that what he really wanted to do was kick my ass. Luckily for me, Joey was drunk enough that he only got in one good punch before he passed out and the paramedics had to be called.
Or the day I was sent to cover for a bio grad student who was supposed to be giving an exam in the lab. Some klutzy kid knocked a metal lab stool into the frog tank on his way out the door and broke it and when Mark showed up to take me to dinner, he found me sliding around on the floor covered in mud and little green frogs. Once he'd stopped laughing at me, he helped me corral all those little hopping bastards and we finished off the day with a few beers at the Life.
Then there was the time at the Metropolitan Museum of Art when he came around the corner at just the right instant to knock me into the beam surrounding a priceless Iranian jar from the 4th millennium BC. Luckily that time nothing was broken, but we did spend some time discussing it with the security guards.
There was also that time during my thesis when Mark found me in the library asleep and woke me just after I missed my epistemology final.
And, of course, who could forget that fateful Christmas Eve a few weeks back when Mark's timing with the key got my ass kicked by no fewer than three punks . . .
You know, on second thought, I'd like to amend my first statement. Mark's always had amazing timing.
