I will play the game.
I will do the dance.
I will kiss up and glad hand and move up the corporate ladder.
I will wear a tie to the fundraiser.
I will present my girlfriend, Sasha, to the company President, Stu Paulson, to show him that I like women and belong in the boys club.
I will say, I plan to, when Stu says, that I better marry Sasha before she joins the circus.
I will tell Sasha that I don’t think Stu meant anything by the circus thing full well knowing that the country club bastard sure as hell did mean something by it because he is a prick and Sasha is freakishly tall. People ask her if she plays in the WNBA all the time. At the store, at the bar, at the Motel 6 in Shreveport, everywhere. So what if she’s tall? She has a kind heart and lets me eat bread pudding with my shoes and socks off and that’s a triple treat.
I will mingle with other guests as Stu’s comments slowly eat at me.
I will listen to fishing and golfing stories as I track Stu’s movements waiting for all the booze he’s drinking to trigger his urethra to alert him that he must preform the ancient act of taking a whizz and that is when I will preform the ancient act of killing a man for saying something he probably shouldn’t have said.
I will tap him on the shoulder so he knows the identity of his killer before I leave him bleeding on the floor.
I will listen to the speeches smiling at Sasha, my beauty, waiting for someone to find Stu.
I will pay for my crimes even though in the eyes of true ancient law my crimes are none.
I will skip the fundraiser.
I will tell Stu that I’m sorry I missed it, but I was sick and overflowing the toilet with vomit.
I will tell Sasha that it isn’t working and it’s not because of her height it’s because uh, well, I’m a in need of a little time to find out, um, why I feel like I want to choke birds, ya, I just don’t think it’s right to be in a relationship with someone while I’m constantly fantasizing of choking birds. You remember that time in Shreveport? The whole time I was thinking of choking birds, never of you, don’t cry, I’m the sick one. You’ll find a man who wears pressed pants and never thinks of murdering those flying beauties via choke, I promise. Someday you’ll see me on the TV, maybe on a TV in Best Buy when you are buying DVDs out of a Bin. Bird Murder, the man will say and you’ll be happy I did this.
I will find a woman who will make Stu say, Better put a ring on her finger before I leave my wife for her! I mean, hubba, hubba, hubba, meow, woof, woof, woof, coyote howl, wolf howl, bear growl, what a knockout! I’d like her to take a ride in my Range Rover fully loaded with Bose speakers sometime!
I will make Stu pay for that.