Story of a Man.

 

The man, who dons dull brown duopoly pants as a matter of course, believes it prudent to outwait the onlookers who gather nightly just adjacent to our vestibule to engage one another in tiresome social rituals. Due to his lack of common graces, he may not be permitted access when the time comes for 'the big reveal'. You see, about seven years ago, before we were married, my wife saw fit to carry on a torrid, if loveless, dalliance with a brilliant, now deceased, architect. This architect was a trusted confidant of the man's step-father. It turns out that they'd been on good terms until 'that' day at the quarry. No one can ever forget how the man, now just entering a squandered middle-age, took to his knees to stage what amounted to a mini-drama, all in the effort to lead a lesser cohort in an unappetizing direction.

Just across the street from where I write this, there's a plaque embossed with naive riddles. Also you'd find one or two names. They'd mean nothing if you weren't one of the ones caught cycling through cancer screening cards. We've told him that there's precious little time before he will be expected to arrive undisturbed at our remote testing facility. I routinely take him aside to explain the fundamentals. As is so often the case, he claims impunity against any ongoing designations. In any other language, this isn't enough to get you out of the loop. That's why I had to call his folks. They should be able to make it up here by Sunday afternoon. At which time I'll ask the Mom if she could get me up to speed on the basics. The last time I asked her, about a year ago, she just smiled and walked away super pissed. Go figure...

It's now common knowledge that the man feels impelled to bring in outsiders so that they can wait while he asks my permission. I know that with even one more click, he could be eliminated forever. The thing is, we both need him to stand guard in case anyone arrives after official screening hours. It will only be played once, this time for laughs. The hat he wears makes for quite the conversation piece. Why has he never told us any of this? Could it be that he found my cologne to be a righteous 'turn-off'? I'm not asking these questions to sound petty. There are only two other people who no longer feel comfortable playing juvenile tricks on elderly seamstresses. 'Self-awareness' just doesn't cut any ice with these bastards. That's why I normally stop in front of their house once or twice a day to just reflect on what it takes to succeed in life. Please don't say that you weren't warned. It's already too late by half.

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