Slightly taken aback, I asked, "What? Isn't that an old people disease?" The bartender automatically placed a glass of Jim Beam bourbon in front of me.
"Did you call in your drink order while we were at the gym?" asked a stunned Harry.
"No, I'm just a regular," I replied with a smile. "Now, don't change the subject. Let's talk about your shingles." I glared at Harry's neck for a few moments while he ordered a Coor's Light.
"Charles, you're not going to see the shingles on my neck," Harry stated.
"Where is it? The people on the television commercials have them on their neck."
Savoring the beer that was just placed before him, Harry replied, "It's in a place where you won't see - my rear end."
"Oh," I added. "Does it hurt?" I asked, holding my cold glass of liquor.
"No, it's just uncomfortable. It's a mild case," replied Harry. "My wife, Sabrina, wants to know how I got it. She thinks I've been constantly pulling my pants down and caught it from somewhere."
After taking another gulp of beer, Mike replied, "I told her that it comes from having the chicken pox."
"That's right. It does. That didn't satisfy her?" I asked. The bartender instinctively brought me another bourbon.
"No. She wants to know where I've been pulling down my pants and what's been touching my rear end."
Laughing at my buddy's statement, I asked, "Are you kidding?"
Harry ordered another beer, and replied, "No, I'm not kidding. She went on and on for about fifteen minutes about how I could have contracted shingles. My explanation about having chicken pox wasn't working. Then - she called me at work, today."
"What did she say?" I asked as the bar became more crowded.
"That she has a rash on her face! I'm thinking that if it's shingles - I'm pretty much doomed. So, I asked her where has she been putting her face," Harry stated as he joined me in a laugh. "I thought you would like that, Charles. You can use it for one of your blog postings."
Until next week...keep praising His name!