Friend

You must have a different definition of the word “friend” than I have. A significant condition for being my friend is that I need to know your name, at least your first name. Even then, I’ll probably just consider you an acquaintance. My “friend” criteria is obviously a little more critical than yours. You can’t be an intravenous drug user, on felony probation for anything, or a Yankee fan. Ok, I might budge on that last one, but the other ones are solid. You can be damn sure though, if I’m going to let you stay at my house for over a month, I’m going to learn your name at some point. Maybe it’s some crack head version of plausible deniability. If you don’t ever tell me your name, then I won’t be able to tell the SWAT team who’s been cooking meth in my basement since September. Yeah, that must be it. That, or the constant flow of crank running through your system that has rendered your memory worthless. I’m gonna go with the last one.

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