moose and a mullet

I went to my senior prom with a guy named Moose. Only he wasn’t a Moose at the time. He was a Jason and my best friend’s brother. He wore a white tux with a red cumberbund and I put my hair up in a big pile of ‘what the hell’.

Reggie laughed and said he looked like a giant Tylenol, and me, I looked like a little girl who got dressed by her grandma. But Reggie could say those things because he was good buddies with Moose and he’s sorta like my brother in a weird not-really-anything-like-it-at-all way. (He took my mother to see Reba. She was menopausal and he was a Saint. God bless him.)

The next year Flynn went to the prom with the same said Moose. I think maybe they got it on. I’m not too sure.

Point is, I’ve been trying to track down his brother for some time now. His head is stuck in every high school picture ever taken of me and when all my girlfriends went separate ways he joined Buffy at the BC. When I left for England he started climbing a bankers ladder. Last time I saw him, I attended upon his establishment to seek out a little loan (London wasn’t cheap boys) but forgot what I was doing when he showed me into his office and let the gossip train run. Did you know…yadda yadda yadda….

So I think I’ll look him up through his brother. Reggie’s always going on about him. About weddings and mullets and way too much beer. Local celebrity MOOSE (DJ extraordinaire) should be sooooo much easier to find than John Patrick Reed. So maybe he’ll help me out.

Googling NOW…..