Monday, January 15, 2018

Civic Responsibility

I'm pretty sure Gary wants to steal my boyfriend now.

Maybe I should explain, see I came back from a trip recently and had to change the ceiling light bulb in my bathroom for the first time in....ever, I think. Anyway, it got me started on replacing some old stuff in there so I was headed into the store to get a new bathmat this morning (okay, actually this was yesterday, but the story works better if it was today, so just, you know, go with me on this, okay?); so I I'm headed into the store to get a new bathmat when I see that there's some guy with a clipboard stopping the odd passerby. Now I’m not sure exactly what his criteria are for who to stop, but I don’t really care and I’ve got Meet the Press playing in my earbuds so I’m hoping the “don’t bother me” vibe is enough to exempt me from his survey or petition or save-the-whatever signup sheet. Apparently not.

As I head towards the door, he stops me, says something and for whatever reason, lack of proper morning caffeine intake is my excuse, I half lean in and he repeats his line, “do you have a minute for gay rights?” To be fair, I do have a minute. I’ve got several. I have no job, nobody’s alerting me to an imaginary ballistic missile and if I step into a church on the Sabbath there’s a good chance I would catch on fire, so do I have a minute? Sure, but let’s be honest, the Supreme Court already handed down their verdict in Obergefell, I have no further sense of responsibility here. You’re not asking me for a wedding cake so I have about as many minutes for Gary as I do for saving the endangered Chinese river dolphins or searching out the “ghost orchid” (interesting fact, the ghost orchid doesn’t have any chlorophyll, it’s a parasite that feeds off of fungus but it is an orchid and it looks pretty cool. Google that shit).

I realize that my isn’t the fault of this kid and I really shouldn’t be taking it out on him, but anything before my first cup of coffee is too early for me to be dealing with this, so I’ve got to come up with some easy way out of this. In what I can only explain and divine inspiration or the prodct of way too many hours watching British comedy, it took me half a second to respond with “I’m sorry man, my boyfriend has a nine inch cock and I barely have time to go in here for provisions” as I did a quarter turn and walked right past him through the automatic doors. But it worked, Gary didn’t say a word, though the look he gave me suggests he very badly wants to steal my imaginary boyfriend now.


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