||[Feb. 5th, 2017|01:21 am]
"What you want to strive to be as a man is the taint," she told me last night, "that special place between being an asshole and being a pussy."
Patiently, I accepted this advice even while reminding her for the third time that I wasn't the guy she thought she was talking to.
"In fact," she continues indifferent or oblivious to my insistence with a sip of some gin contraption. "a taint would be the perfect candidate for the highest office of this Land."
Yeah, that's great but not this book I was reading at the bar before you attention-jacked me great, so if you don't mind...
"You know," she speaks as if I possibly could, "someone who's not too Democrat Pussy but not too Republican Asshole. Is that too much for a woman, I mean a voter, to ask for?"
Ever the diplomat, I point out that real life often isn't as easily framed into the dichotomy of our metaphors.
With a sour twist of the face she snarls - "When'd you start talking like someone trying to imitate a professor, Hal?"
Wrong Hal, I lie, my last name's Jordan. Tell her I used to be a test pilot but now work as a beat cop in the GLC way, way OTP.
"Just saying it ain't much to ask for," she glugs her gin thingamajig down as if I hadn't said a word, "so why can't a grown woman get a little taint attention?"
The bartender turns around, toasts a shot glass at her, and downs it with an old "I'll drink to that."
Well, the beauty of paying cash instead of a card, is that a man can lay a twenty down for two drinks and walk his happy ass on out of a situation starting to sour weird.
"Where you think you going?," she snarls or laughs not really sure which to be honest.
Pause halfway between her and the door. There's a hundred ways I have of telling her to fuck off.
Most of them I could without her realizing what she's been told before I'm clear across the street.
"I just haven't been myself lately," I tell her with a fake smile instead, "but the next time you see me I'm sure I'll be the same old Hal you know and love."