Monthly Archives: August 2013

The Dreaded Meeting

Sometimes when people may want to hire me to write stuff they often want to meet me.

I know! Idiots.

The moment I met this guy I knew he was off his rocker. I knew he’d be constantly checking in. Emails, faxes, phone calls, carrier pigeon, this guy would be a haunt and I knew it. He wouldn’t let me take his manic scribbling and attempt to translate them into something less creepy.

Not that anyone could.

But I’m polite. . .ish. It wasn’t until he started the ‘What is your. . .’ line of questioning that I decided to fuck with him.

“What is your most impressive feat?” I swear he asked that. Like I’m a circus performer. Without hesitation I answered,

“I’ve snagged flying flies in mid air with my bare hands. Twice.” I smiled, stared at him while nodding and grinning. That combination from me has to be creepy as shit on a forehead. He tried to recover but I could tell he was rattled.

“What is your worst trait?” What the fuck are these questions? It’s not like we’ll ever be in the same room together again. And I’m just the guy to make that a reality. I decided to give this one some thought.

“My worst trait, my worst trait.” I take the requisite pause before saying. “I’d have to say my worst trait is that I don’t have a worst trait.” I look at him sincerely. “That is bad, isn’t it?”

He’s losing it. If he could have burrowed through the floor he would have. I can also see that he doesn’t want to upset me or make any sudden moves. But he surer than shit wants to.

I release him, because I’m kind, and say, “Do you want to know what my biggest dream is?” With pain he nods. “To bring your life in orthodontia to the written page.”

I stand abruptly just to see him shiver and hold out my hand. I’m not 100% sure but I think he shit himself. I know he wished he could telepathically call 911. I could have stood there all day but I’m not evil. I said,

“I’ll be expecting your call.” Then turned for the door. Midway I stopped. I slowly turned around and said, “Really, I am expecting your call.”

Then I grinned at him.

I think he peed a little.

“What’d you do at work today, honey?”

“I spiked a flying dildo.”

An important PSA.

A 29 year old. . .

. . .starts complaining to me that they’re old.

“Do you know when you’re officially old?” I asked.

“No, when?”

“The month the Playboy centerfold is older than you.”

For My Own Good

I was being talked at by a young, serious writer who took umbrage to my frivolous work.

“I know you have it in you.” He opined. “I’ve heard you speak on many subjects.”

I looked at this helpful little fellow and said,

“Fuck off, ya little twerp.”

No, I didn’t say that. That would have made him cry.

“Why spend your days caressing a tomb?” I said. “When was the last time you juggled or told a ribald story about an evening out? Get to know the pleasure of singing to a deaf guy or doing a magic trick for the blind. Both of which, by the way, benefit me greatly because I suck at them.”

He breaks in with an impassioned plea for my betterment, of course, about the seriousness of the world around us and the responsibility for all of us to work at making even the tiniest part of the world better.

I looked at this kid and smiled. I didn’t bother telling him I’m sure my stupid little jokes have been remembered much longer than his impassioned missives. That comedy is little more than truth with a tickle. Instead I pointed out another bald faced truth.

“When you’re sitting down at the coffee shop writing your next philosophical treatise remember that Nietzsche died a broke, lonely, insane man. And at this moment Louis C.K. is getting a blow job.”

Spell Check

Oh spell check, you think you’re always right.

I was typing and didn’t notice I spelled doorknob without the k. No big deal. Easy fix. I’m running spell check to take a break and it gets to doornob. Boy, what a dumb ass I am spelling that word wrong.

Boy, if I thought I was stupid for leaving out a k just think what I was thinking about spell check when the word they demanded me to use, and it was the only suggestion, was:

trombone.

Oh spell check! You’re silly.

I run into a guy. . .

. . .I haven’t seen in a decade. He looks me up and down and says,

“You haven’t changed a bit. What’s your secret?”

“Start out looking like shit and it’s smooth sailing from there.”