So the other night when I was over at Reed's house my cell phone rang. I was scrunched up sideways in his big chair with my head hanging over the side trying to read the title of a book on the floor, so he picked up the phone and handed it to me.
"The display says 'White Trash Bob'," he said.
So I answered it and had a brief conversation with WTB, who'd just come home from 17 hours on the road and was taking a walk around the neighborhood, about how cute those darn cardboard mice in my front windows are. (I know, I know, I need to post a pic.)
When I got off the phone, Reed asked me, "Who's White Trash Bob?"
"He's Bob who lives across the street from me in that brick house he calls the Coal Miner's Despair. You know, the guy who does all the Civil War stuff around here." And then I made my mistake: "Everyone I'm close to has a nickname in my phone." Oops.
"Oh, really?" Reed asked. "So who am I?"
I tried to right myself and grab the phone back from the ottoman where I'd tossed it. Reed was quicker. "I just called you right before he did, so if I look in your phone log...Let's see...Reed Richards?" He grinned. "I'm Reed Richards in your phone?"
I should mention that when I'm embarrassed or nervous my ears get warm and turn bright red. Seriously, they're like Rudolph's nose. I had my hair in a ponytail. My ears did not escape his attention. "I am Reed Richards in your phone! You think I'm like the guy who's the leader of the Fantastic Four? Oh, because he's a scientist and I'm a biologist. I get it. But he's a superhero...Oh." He grinned again.
I think he likes his nickname. I also think he just might be a keeper.