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Insurance Lunch  by Andy Peth

5/11/2016

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Picture
The other day, my wife and I sat down in a nice restaurant.  I was starving.  But as we perused our menus, she glanced up at me with a curious expression.  Then she appeared troubled.  Then defiant.  At long last, Cori asked a strange question:
 
CORI:  “Andy, remember when you said men are superior drivers?”
 
ME:  “Um, no.”
 
CORI:  “Then how did I get this (deep, manly voice) ‘Allstate safe driving bonus check?’”
 
ME:  “I never said—wait, what happened to your voice?”
 
CORI:  “Nothing!  I was just talking about my (man’s voice returns) ‘Allstate safe driving bonus check.’”
 
ME:  “There it is again!”
 
CORI:  (now all in man’s voice) “What’s wrong, baby?  Feeling threatened?”
 
ME:  “I don’t under—”
 
CORI:  “Am I threatening your manhood?”
 
ME:  “My what?”
 
CORI:   “You know!  Your manhood!  Your virility!  Your—”
 
ME:  “Look, you just don’t sound feminine.”
 
CORI:  “Who are you to say what’s--(clears her throat in a low, gravelly cough)—feminine?”
 
ME:  “I just don’t think my wife should have a better man’s voice than I do.”
 
Cori laughed, sounding deeper still.  At least I thought it was Cori.  Needing confirmation, I grabbed her by the shoulders.
 
ME:  “Listen to me!  I’m looking for Cori!  Let me speak to Cori!”
 
CORI:  (even deeper) “There is no Cori.  There is only Zool.”
 
ME:  “Zool?  Like from Ghostbusters?”
 
CORI:  “Zoooooolll—”
 
As a toothy smile crept over her face, I inwardly noted the date and time; a time when I resolved, once and for all, I was not in good hands with Allstate.  Our waiter arrived.  This should have provided a welcome distraction, but alas, he was dressed as a snow-covered stop sign. 
 
WAITER:  “Hi there.  I’m Mayhem.”
 
ME:  “Okay.  I’m Destructo.”
 
WAITER:  “I’m the sign you can’t see as you barrel toward that intersection—”
 
ME:  “Funny, I thought you were a waiter not taking my order.”
 
WAITER:  “—and after I total your car, your cut-rate insurance won’t cover—”
 
ME:  “—you’re gonna total my car?”
 
WAITER:  “Well…probably…I mean, after my shift—”
 
CORI:  “Zoooooolll.”
 
WAITER:  “What the hell?!”
 
ME:  “Don’t judge her, pal.  You’re dressed as a snow-covered stop sign.”
 
WAITER:  “I’m dressed to make a point!”
 
ME:  “In a restaurant?”
 
WAITER:  “I’m trying to…I’m…it’s…it’s to advertise the special!”

(He ran away)
ME:  “Still didn’t take our order.”
 
CORI:  “Zoooooolll—”
 
ME:  “What?”
(Cori was motioning toward the restrooms)
ME:  “Oh.  Right.  You know, I’d better walk you over.”
(As we got close, Cori turned toward the Men’s Room.  I intervened)
ME:  “Whoa honey!  This isn’t Target!  You go over there!”
 
MAN WALKING IN:  “Hey, don’t judge her!  She can go where she wants!”
 
CORI:  “I am Zool.”
 
MAN WALKING IN: “Then again, this ain’t no Target.”
 
CORI:  (pointing at Ladies Room) “Zool?”
 
ME:  “That’s right, honey, you go in that one.”
 
Moments later, two little girls ran out screaming—but it was a small price to pay.  Cori then emerged, and I guided her back to our table.  She seemed calm…er.  The creepy grin was gone.  Sure, she was gawking at every nearby meal containing meat, but her snarls were more subdued.  Now we could enjoy a quiet dinner.  Now we could relax.  Now I could engage in some nice, casual small talk.
 
ME:  “So hey, about returning my wife’s body…”
(A guy at the next table leaned over)
GUY:  “Having trouble, buddy?”
 
ME:  “We’re fine, thanks.”
 
GUY:  “I understand.  I mean, here you have a perfect driving record—”
 
ME:  “—how did you know—”
 
GUY:  “—never miss a payment.  You’re like the poster child for paying on time—”
 
ME:  “They have those?”
 
GUY:  “—but one day, you just happen to plow your car into a hospital full of nuns caring for wounded veterans who are all holding puppies—”
 
CORI:  “Zool?”
 
GUY:  “—and next thing you know, a letter arrives from your insurance company, raising your rates!”
 
ME:  “Does it arrive in prison?”
 
GUY:  “They just jack up your rates, man!  One little fender-bender!  (He’s pounding on his table)  And you’re like, ‘Please don’t do this!  I have children to feed!  It was one freakin’ hospital!  Hey insurance company, nobody’s perfect!’”
 
ME:  “But puppies—”
 
GUY:  “You plead for mercy!  You call and call, but they just laugh at you, man!  THEY LAUGH!!”
(Cori started laughing.  She sounded like Jabba the Hut)
GUY:  “Exactly!  Love the voice, babe!  Where was I?”
 
ME:  “Pleading for mercy.”
 
GUY:  “Yeah!  You beg for sympathy, but they just keep reeling off casualty numbers!  Why can’t they see you’re the victim here?!  A victim of predatory insurance!”
 
ME:  “But nuns and puppies—”
 
GUY:   “Doesn’t matter, man!  Here at Liberty Mutual, our motto is, ‘We believe in accident forgiveness, so hit whatever you want!’  Yeah, baby!”
 
While we spoke, something caught my attention; a long, thin shadow, approaching our table.  Behind the shadow, walking in a friendly manner, was a surprisingly small figure.  A green figure.  As it came into view, I found myself staring at a cute little lizard!  He was so pleasant!  So polite!  Instantly drawn to his trustworthy charm, I felt ready to buy whatever product this little salesman might offer!  He arrived at our table, took off his adorable little hat, and spoke:  
 
LIZARD:  “Hello there, good sir!”
 
CORI:  (Still in man’s voice) “Eeeeek!  Zool!  Zool!  Zool!”
 
Before I could react, Cori stomped all life out of the little fellow.  She moved so fast.  Unnaturally fast.  Pounding on him with her heels/hooves, she left nothing but a crooked tail, on which was perched a lonely hat.  I just stared for several minutes, mouth wide open, before I could speak. 
 
ME:  “This will forever haunt my dreams.”
 
CORI:  (nodding in agreement) “Zoooolll.”
 
The rest of lunch was fairly uneventful.  Our waiter brought us food we’d never ordered, then ran away again.  Some lady named Flo stopped by, took note of the lizard, frowned, and slowly backed away.  A small group of priests encircled Cori; burning incense, speaking Latin, and making crosses in the air…until her normal voice returned.  But she then donned an army helmet and started offering free quotes from The General—so they too ran away. 
 
No biggie.  I’ve got my wife back.  It’s been a week now, the helmet’s still on, and she’s called for 147 insurance quotes—but I’ve got my wife back.
 
We just don’t do lunch anymore.
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