The door bell rings, you tumble out of bed & rush to the door shirtless to greet the postman with your bed hair & morning breath & the man laughs an odd laugh & averts your eyes. He doesnt say why. He taps on the screen on his device to indicate where to sign. He looks down. He looks away. He laughs harder. You assume hes just being judgemental because youre still in bed at 2. And then you walk by the mirror in the hall to set the package down on the table & realise the problem with the package. The other package. Tip slip. Youre peeking out the half scrunched-up leg of your shorts. How could you have not felt it? Youre not just dead inside. You are dead waist down. You want to die. The phone rings. You dont care. You reject the call, run back to bed & scream into the pillow until that warm, prickly sense of shame ebbs from your face. You sit up. You tell yourself its OK. You rock out with your cock out & thats just the kind of guy you are. You tuck it in, put on your brave face & return the call. The day turns itself upside down! Best news ever. The client wants to renew the ad you shot last year. No, they dont need you to roll out of bed to do it again. They just want to pay you for your lousy name above the dotted line on a document that says you accede to the dissemination of the images blah blah blah. Hell, never mind dissemination, I will accede to be inseminated. Heigh-ho, the derry-oh! This must be what it feels like to win the lottery. Im glad & immensely grateful to the Universe & Mervyn Chan who got me the job. Maybe now Ill take a weekend trip to BKK for that cooking class. Oh, never mind the tip slip, Universe. You can have the shaft & both my hairy balls too!
Posted on: Mon, 11 Aug 2014 08:19:01 +0000