Monday, September 16, 2013
And the Story Droned On and On
And the Story Droned On and On Seldom do we run into a person who can tell a good story. A person who can turn the most mundane topic into a pants pissing saga that will never be forgotten. Now, a lot of people think they can tell a story well. Some people even think the stories they tell are interesting. This is not true. Personally, I am horrible at telling stories. I tend to leave out key pieces of information and I use a lot of fluff to buy time while I try to remember how a story goes. Public speaking has never been my forte’. If you’ve ever heard the Sean Connery ‘bar’ joke, I am certain that I tell stories in the same manner. “This guy walks into a bar with a dog under one arm and a 2ft salami under the other….I forget the rest but your mother’s a whore.” Self admittedly I am horrible at re telling stories, anecdotes or witticisms. I wish most people could realize that they suck at it also. Two days ago, an acquaintance somehow managed to capture me in between my just parked vehicle and the fifteen foot dash to my front door. The ensuing story made me want to cut open my stomach and hang myself with my own intestines. It went something like this; Him-Hey. I need to ask you something. Me- Okay Him- Do you know that barn on 42? Me- Maybe. Which one? Him- The one near Paul Thurbengurben’s brother’s place. Me- I don’t know who that is. Him- Sure you do! He’s the guy whose niece who won the pig foot eating contest in Yokelville 27 years ago! Me- I’m drawing a blank. I’m sure I don’t know any of those people or even where Yokelville is. Him- Come on! It’s near Makanudo Heights. On the east side of NeverWannaGoThere River Me- Positive I don’t know where that is. Are we done? I’m hungry and I have to pee. Him- You know where it is. I remember I was loaded with used condoms, lots of drag due to wind resistance, twenty six thousands up front and forty thousand rears pulling fifteen speeds through a modified Fuller with double down ace over jacks split when I first met Eunice. Me- Who the fuck is Eunice? Him- You know Eunice! From north of Makanudo stupid. Her brother Charlie, you know Charlie- he perfected the ground hog no hands breeding technique for the cross breeding of ground hogs. She works at the diner! Me- In Makanudo? Him- You don’t listen. North of Makanudo! Me- what happened to the load of used condoms? Him- Well, that c17 Cat broke a post free and the pre cups lost purchase so I had to kick her in the bum and load up the pyrometer. Me- So, you put the condoms in your bum or you burned them? Him- What are you, stupid. Me- I’m coming to that conclusion, yes. Him- I dropped them off in Utica, at the Wonderball plant near Kirby’s Me-Who’s Kirby? Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! Stupid Brooks! Him- Kirby. George’s boy the dentist who juggles cats! Me- Who juggles cats? Kirby or his dad George? Dammit! Him- George is a dentist. Kirby juggles cats. Me- Ahhh! Now we’re getting somewhere. NOTE- by this point I have travelled to places unknown and met people I know but don’t really know and learned more about trucks than I ever wanted to know. I’m hungry and my eyeballs are now sight glasses for the urine building up in my system. Him- So you know the place I’m talking about? Me- No! I don’t any Thurgensons. I don’t know Paul, Eunice, Kirby, Charlie or George. I don’t know where any of the places you mentioned are except for the slim possibility of Utica- and that’s based on the wild guess that we are still in North America. I don’t know how you kick a truck in the bum either. I don’t care either. I don’t care. What do you want? Him- You’re a dick! Never mind. I’ll borrow a 2x4 from someone else. Ass. Son of a bitch! Why can’t you just ask for the damn 2x4? Why do you feel the need to drag my mind through a story that would require a team of code breakers years to decipher. You look at me like I’m mid lick on a dirty window when I don’t know who or what you are talking about when you’re the person who can’t tell a story without having some validation that you aren’t as stupid as people think. You are! Focus. What are you trying to say? Get to the point. The longer you drone on the lower I know your IQ is and that is coming from a guy who thinks the Three Stooges should be in Parliament-even though they’re dead. Simply because you know someone does not automatically guarantee that I know that person. Please believe me when I tell you I do not know the person you mentioned when I say I don’t know. I’m not lying-maybe I should so your asinine, pointless story will end more quickly. Dammit! Now I’ve forgotten what the hell I was blathering on about and what the point of this story is. Oh yeah! Don’t do drugs.