Idio(ma)tic

 Idio(ma)tic

Hey, buddy. I’ll buy you a beer if you listen to my story...

It’s a bitter pill to swallow. I’m all washed-up. I’m back to square one. I hate to beat a dead horse, but I’m done beating around the bush. I’m at the end of my rope, the bitter end. I need to blow off steam.

Stella was - still is - the apple of my eye, the cat’s meow, the bee’s knees. Was I barking up the wrong tree? Did I have bats in the belfry? This is not just a bad hair day, or, in my case, a no hair day. Last week I could have bet my bottom dollar that she and I were an item. I put my best foot forward. I put on the dog. I pulled out all the stops. I knew she liked the glitz and glamor. I dropped a bundle on her. And that ain’t hay! We painted the town red, cut the rug in the ritziest joints. I really thought we were making beautiful music together. I thought I was in like Flynn. She seemed to be over-the-moon with me. But I ended-up going over like a lead balloon. 

Why did I go bust? She blew me away when she told me she’s out-of-here because I drive her nuts with my idiotic idioms all the time. Then HE shows up, the big shot, the glad-hander, the pretty boy, a flash-in-the-pan if I ever saw one. Always blowing his own horn, he swept her off her feet. I give it a month of Sundays, at the most. Me, I’m going back to the wrong side of the tracks where I was born. People have both feet on the ground there. No crocodile tears for me.

 

Thanks for listening, pal. You were all ears. One more thing, do you happen to know what in the Sam hill an idiom is?