The Humanity (1)

Can't believe I haven't posted this yet. Spent a good part of 2007 working on it. Interesting to see how the things I used to be psyched on have fallen to the side. I think it is important to note that all the characters (especially the school children) are from my elementary school days.

Two Days Ago

“A fox hat?”

“Yeah, a fox hat.”

“Like, a ‘coon skin hat? Like Davey Crockett and shit?”

“No, Dan, a fox hat, like a hat, that is a fox.”

“Oh, of course. Why should I put a dead fox on my head?”

“No, not dead, the fox has to be alive.”

“What? Paul, how the fuck would that work?”

“Don’t get angry, Dan.”

“I’m not angry, Paul.”

“If you’re not angry why, then, did you raise your voice?”

“I didn’t raise my voice in anger. I was just emphasizing my curiosity.”

“Why did you curse, then?”

“Paul, the hat.”

“Right. It’s a fox hat.”

“Yes I know, but how are you going to make a live fox into a hat?”

“Well, you put the fox on your head, and there is a chin strap, yeah, and maybe the chin strap is extendable so you can use it as a leash to keep the little guy from running away when you take the hat off or go inside and have to leave him tied to a bike rack.”

“Yeah, but then you’d have a live, angry fox strapped to your head. What’s to keep--”

“He wouldn’t be angry.”

“Why not? I’d be pretty angry if I were strapped to your head. What’s stopping me, or the fox, from scratching your eyes out?”

“Dan, if you were strapped to my head I wouldn't be able to stand up or do much of anything. That’s pretty dumb. How would I wear you, anyway? Folded over at the waist? Or would I sort of drape you around my shoulders, like a scarf.”

“Dude. The fox. The fox would scratch and bite you to shit, man.”

“No, the fox would be trained.”

“Right. You’d train the fox. Is this before or after you attached the chin strap?”

“Before. But the fox wouldn’t be angry. He’d be happy.”

“I am a fox. I am on your head. I am not happy.”

“Sure you are. That heat escaping my body through my head is keeping your belly warm. I’ve never been unhappy when my belly was warm. Plus, I’d be carrying you around to all these cool places, like coffee shops and pedestrian malls.”

“I imagine you would not be happy, despite your belly being warm, when you are stuck on some guy’s melon.”

“Unlikely.”

“All right, Paul, fox happiness aside, what keeps the fox from freaking out when you eat? I mean, say you go out to dinner and it’s a nice night so you decide to sit on the patio, but the air is a little crisp so you keep your fox hat on. Your meal comes and every time you go to take a bite of your lasagna the fox scratches you in the mouth and knocks your fork to the ground. What then?”

“Well, I think you are ignoring a critical issue here: the bond between fox and man. There is a symbiotic relationship here! Can’t you see? Jesus man, you must respect the fox! After all, he is the one allowing you to wear him as though he were a hat, is he not? Your scenario is deeply flawed. Observe: since I see my fox as an equal, I would kindly remove him from my head and attach his leash to my chair before eating my meal. “

“But it’s cold out, remember? You can’t take him off.”

“Dan, I’d just give him a few bites of my lasagna then.”

“Okay, but you say that you respect the fox and share a symbiotic relationship with it, even though parasitic is a much more appropriate term, but why is it that the fox is the one strapped to your head? Why is it that it is the fox that you leash to your chair? If you truly respected the fox, why would you condemn it to a life of domestication? Why would you confine its world to wherever you took it on your head? Even if it is a pedestrian mall!”


Ten Minutes Ago

“Dude, where were you last night? Mia’s party was really cool. She was wondering why you didn’t go.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot. I was hanging out with Thompson. We went to one of those arty theaters where they play classic movies on the weekends. Saw Army of Darkness and Aliens back to back. It was sick. Was she pissed?”

“Yeah, Paul, she was pissed. You know, you rally need to do something about this situation. You could have--how long have you been here?”

“About half an hour, why?”

“How many cups of coffee have you had?”

“Five. Six. No, five.”

“Shit, Paul, being around you and coffee is like being super-glued to a five-year-old.”

“Whatever.”

“Do you remember that goddamned fox hat conversation? That was the most retarded thing I have ever been a part of.”

“What was wrong with the fox hat, Dan? Where did all this animosity come from? Oh, I get it, you are just jealous you didn’t come up with it first.”

“I swear I will leave. I will get up and walk out of here so fast.”

“Okay, okay, relax. Do you want to order something?”

“No, I’m fine. Anyway, you really have to work things out with Mia, she’s getting on my nerves about you getting on hers.”

“I’m gonna get a piece of pie. Where the hell is the waitress?”

“Could you please talk to her?”

“I still don’t understand what she’s so upset about. Dammit, I want some cherry pie, where is the waitress?”



One Week Ago

“If you want out, why don’t you just tell her?”

“I tried.”

“How’d it go?”

“Well, Dan, it was like watching the Hindenburg go down. Everything started off so well, then KA-BLAM, the tears started and a voice was screaming ‘OH, THE HUMANITY!’ in my head.”

“Yeah, then what?”

“She cried enough that her tears could have probably put the Hindenburg fire out, and I kinda backed off the topic and apologized.”

“You aren’t scared of her, are you?”

“No, I’m not. Well, maybe, just a little bit.”

“That’s just great, Paul. You realize that you’ve just dug your hole about a hundred times deeper, right?”

“I know, I know. It’s just, she’s a great girl. I mean, she made me breakfast and brought it to me in bed this morning. Toast, orange juice, bacon, eggs. Eggs man, she scrambled eggs for me. I love scrambled eggs.”

“So do you love her, or do you love scrambled eggs?”

“I love her, bringing me scrambled eggs.”

“Jesus, Paul. You know--shit. Pretend that other women would be willing to bring you eggs. Now ask yourself: is it her bringing your eggs, or just any girl bringing your lazy ass eggs?”

“You’re right, Dan, I know, but what am I supposed to do, apologize for apologizing for pretending to break up with her in the first place, then really break up with her.”

“Uhh, I’m not sure what all of that meant, but I think it meant ‘I’m going to tell her, again, and this time I am going to be serious,’ though I could be mistaken. ”

“Yeah, something like that. Ok, I’ll do it.”

“Good. What are you going to tell her?”

“Huh?”

“What are you going to say? Like, how are you going to break the news? You have to have a plan, otherwise you’ll break down as soon as the first tear is shed, again.”

“Oh, I’m not going to tell her anything.”

“What?”

“No man, I was just going to make her break up with me.”

“And how were you planning on doing that?”

“You know, I was just going to be so emotionally unavailable and cruel that she will be driven away and will eventually come to the conclusion that I am no longer the man for her and will then break up with me.”

“You are such an asshole.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Shit, I’ll just tell her that I made a mistake the first time, and that this time is for real.”

“You’ve got to come up with something better than that, Paul. I’ll kick your ass myself if that’s what you tell her”

“Come on, Dan, I need some support. This is kind of a big issue, is it not? I was talking to Thompson about it last night and he said--”

“I don’t give a shit what Thompson said! I don’t even know Thompson! But I do know you, man, and I know Mia, and you owe her some respect.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Damn right I’m right.”

“Can we talk about something else now? People are looking at us like we should be at a knitting circle or something.”

“Paul, I have no idea what that means.”


Five Minutes Ago

“Thanks. Oh, and can I get another cup of coffee? Excellent. All right, so I probably haven’t handled this so well, but what do you expect? I’m not in some Hugh Grant movie, man.”

“What the hell does that mean? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Hugh Grant movie.”

“Yeah, you have, Dan. You remember the really shitty Batman movie? The one where the Batsuit had nipples? That was him.”

“That was George Clooney, you ass. And the Batsuit had nipples when Val Kilmer was Batman too, and that movie didn’t completely suck. Your suit-nipple suck-factor hypothesis is fundamentally flawed.”

“The Batsuit is not the issue here, dude. Can we please stay on topic?”

“I’m sorry, have we somehow stumbled into an alternate universe where my mind is in your body and your mind is in mine or something? Did you just ask if we could keep this conversation on topic?”

“I have no idea what you just said. Look, the point is this: I messed up. I should have held my ground and ended it then, but I didn’t I’ve already had this talk with Thompson and he thinks that ”

“Well, good for Thompson. I’m glad to know that he is replacing me as your best friend. Why don’t you just hang out here with him all the time?”

“Thompson doesn’t like going out.”

“Ok then. At any rate, you are just making things worse. Now you have to break up with her again, and she is probably going to hate you forever, instead of hating you for most of your life.”

“Okay, Dan. I’ll admit it, I made a very poor decision. Top five for sure.”

“Right behind the novel.”

Three Years Ago

“Your novel is really bad, Paul.”

“What? My novel is really awesome, Dan. What didn’t you like about it?”

“What is there to like? There’s no setting, no character development, no conflict, no resolution, there isn’t even a plot. It’s just two guys talking to each other.”

“Yeah?”

“There is nothing to it. Why should I bother to read it if I get nothing out of it?”

“It was funny, was it not?”

“There were moments, Paul, there were moments.”

“Damn right there were moments. My friend Thompson thinks it is awesome. He said he’d buy the movie rights, if he had the chance.”

“Who is Thompson?”

“Oh, he’s, uhh, this guy I met a few weeks ago. He’s pretty cool. He’s from out of town.”

“Really? Where is out of town for him?”

“Um, I dunno. Far away, I’m guessing.”

“Well, wherever he is from, he has a horrible taste in literature.”