It always amazes me when people want me to visit their homes. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t rub my bare ass on the carpet or show off my collection of bolts I never put into the rides from my carnie days, but I tend to feel if the guests know me I don’t have much more to offer and if they don’t, it’s probably best they don’t hear what I have to offer.
I’m a normal person. There are people within any group genuinely happy to see me, aren’t happy I’m there, and could give a shit if I came or went. But then there’s this other area that tends to follow me like a rumor. More than most, I feel, I get warned about things I may or may not, should or should not say or do. That’s where I think I flow downstream from my fellow man.
Let me ask you, have you ever been asked, while on the way to meet a friends girlfriend for the first time, not to be so. . .you? Not knowing what that meant, I asked for a simple clarification. What I got was a bunch of stammers and stutters attempting not to insult me nor engage the me he was most mephobic about.
In the end, I didn’t meet the damsel that night or for the next couple hundred days of their courtship. Oh, he tried, but, with a look and a smirk, I knew I could count on another few weeks before he’d ask again.
I’ve been walked into gatherings and told not to mention certain subjects around certain people; not to use language in a manner to which I am accustomed; a litany of things I’d be better off not doing. Gee, way to make a guy feel comfortable in your home. But, not being one to take insult, I smile at my host, look them square in the eye and tell them I’d never dream of doing what they are so fearful of.
Then I walk away laughing.
Okay, that may be mean (and makes sure the nervous host never takes their eyes off me for my entire stay) but how would you like to be categorized as some loose cannon awaiting the opportunity to scorch the gathering with the songs of Charles Manson? Don’t knock it until you’ve heard my rendition of ‘Sick City’ from ‘Lie: The Love And Terror Cult’ on the kazoo.
I’ll ask my host a couple of questions in a situation like this. Simple questions such as,
“Give me an example of what you’ve seen me do to make you think I’m going to sit on someone’s lap and eat from their plate?”
Or,
“Why, if you think I’m going to actually talk to your other guests, would you invite me if you feel you need to sedate me?”
In all the years I’ve been invited to things, no one has ever given me an example of my outrageous behavior. I’m not saying I can’t say things that will offend, I’m not saying I can’t do evil things, but I try to contain that within my realm of friends.
I’ll sidle up to someone I know will appreciate it, quip, and quit. I think that’s where I get into trouble. Not what I said but what someone across the room thinks I said. Trust me, and ask my trusted conversation mates, what you think is much more interesting than what I’ve actually said.
I’m generally happy to sit there, eat, drink, and feel Mary (okay, that one got me in trouble). I don’t need to talk to people, I don’t need them to talk to me. It’s not that I’m anti-social, I showed up after all, it’s just that I’ve been warned so find it best not to be too verbal. I don’t find that being difficult, I find it as following the rules of the house. Besides, I know me. There’s always potential.
I’ve been sitting in the same spot for about an hour while the party flows around me. Every now and then a dog will come by, drop a ball which I’ll pick up toss toward an empty area. To me, that’s party involvement.
Without warning a group of five guys plant it’s gathering in front of me. Although they aren’t talking to me, due to their current location, I have no choice but to hear what they’re talking about.
Work.
They’re all talking about how important they are at their job. If each of these gentlemen is to be believed American commerce would come to a stock plummeting plunge without them at their respective company.
What’s odd, to me, is that none of these men owned their own company. I’ve owned my own business and didn’t feel as vital to it as these guys do theirs. I know for a fact that, when I closed my business, each customer found someone else to give their money to. While watching this two or three of the guys got calls from their company. I’m sure the first guy who took a call was kicking himself by the time the last guy got his call. He’d only yelled at someone. The third guy threatened to fire the entire company if whatever urgent service had to be performed wasn’t performed ASAP and up to his stringent satisfaction.
During a walk back from getting myself a frosty adult beverage I thought it was a good thing people care about their job. I care about whatever I do. It’s just that that’s one part of me. When my day is over, when I finish writing this story, whatever I do, the moment it’s done I move on to the next part of me.
I’d hoped the conversation had moved on to something else by the time I got back but, alas, it had just engorged. Two guys were now in a game of ‘I’m much more important to my company than you!’ It reminded me of those arguments we’d have as ten years old over who was a better ballplayer. Although I’m sure these guys wouldn’t get bored, call each other ‘stupidhead’ and go play ball.
I excuse myself to get to my seat. The men make an opening and close it with me now ensconced within their conversation. I sit there and listen. I have nothing to add so don’t. It takes some time but even they seem to come to the conclusion that no one is going to budge. Neither of these guys is going to back down but, seeing that their respective wives wandered over to give him the old ‘you’re getting loud, honey’ ass pat, they know they’d better take a break.
And what better way to fill a break than get someone else to talk!
“So,” begins one of the guys. “What do you do?”
It is at this moment where I have choices. I can 1) politely excuse myself 2) stand, state my current occupation, sit and drink 3) say something that is probably why I get warned so often upon entering festivities such as this.
“Damn, boys,” I say knowing full well I have no idea where I’m going but full knowledge that I’ll end up with something on me. “I work for myself and I’m not as important to my company as you are to yours.”
“What do you do?” Asks the guy who’s going to fire everyone.
It is at this moment when I first realize why it’s often requested I be nice. That is because I said,
“I own a life replica company that specializes in pleasure companions for devotes of bestiality.”
There’s a moment when I start something like this that’s golden. It’s that moment when I have no idea where I’m going or how quickly those around flee. It’s pure reaction on the faces of those to whom I am speaking and pure bullshit to those about to speak.
“What’s weird is, most people think we make our money off the companions but that’s not true. Sure, the companions are expensive, but we make a killing on the come back. You should have seen how crazy our customers were when we invented the traction action tongue. When we added varying sizes of moisture reservoir you’d think we’d found the holy grail. Even with those value added products we make a ton on the replacement of, what we call, pleasure spots.”
I smile at this group of guys, a trucking manager, a network manager, and other management ilk’s standing agape. Well, I can’t just let them stand there can I? I have to go just a little further. If only to keep their attention long enough to be noticed by the host.
“But what’s recently taken over refurring as our top revenue producer is what we think is going to be our killer app. We’ve just opened a joint replacement division. Some these guys, and girls, can go through two, three replacements a year so it only made good business sense. We’ve recently completed our first full ankle, knee, hip replacement. That was a very exciting day.”
I see one of the wives from earlier standing next to the host pointing. I see that ‘The baby has a penny near the electric outlet!’ expression as she quick steps toward us. I stand up, extend my hand to anyone willing to accept it as I say,
“Trust me, boys, the traction action tongue will keep them coming, but the real cash is in the joints.”
Before the host has rounded up the wives I’m standing safely at the cheese dip. I smile at the host as it dawns on me that people shouldn’t warn me from talking to guests. Far from it. They should have me come late and start conversations all over the place. If that doesn’t clear the room you’ve got some professional freeloaders as friends.
Now that, my friend, is a killer app.
The Bound & Gags Wonder Blog 