So I ask the operator for an international number. And she says she can't give me an international number, that she 'ain't no nukular physicist.'" I say, "Well, AT&T. . ."
She says, "Fuck you" and hangs up.
And then I'm walking down the street with that asswipe from the Encyclopedia Brittanica commercial and he says, "There you are in there stark white offices, and in front of you are those stark white flakes."
"Dandruff? But I don't have--"
"No, moron. Cocaine. Nose candy. Bolivian marching powder."
We both look at each other, point our fingers, smile and say "Bingo."
So I'm at lunch with some guy who says, "Well, didn't you ever think you had been somewhere before?"
"Well sure, I mean, that's not uncomm--"
Then he puts his hand on my knee, looks me in my eye and asks, "In another life?"
"All right, back off."
The waiter smiles and says, "I-I see you two are okay. I'll come back in a minute."
The guy gives my thigh a squeeze. "In a parallel dimension?"
For some reason I am now fascinated.
"Read about how little mole-men dug a tunnel from Afghanistan through to Jacksonville, Florida, just to prove it could be done."
"Did that happen?"
The man takes my head in his hands and kisses me on my forehead. "Read the book. Read about how Benito Mussolini once beat Omar Sharif at a bridge tournament while partnered with a meatball stromboli."
"Did that--"
I felt my shirt being pulled out of my pants. Read the--"
"Read about how Sir Clifford Cameron-Sweeney and his youthful bride Marie spent their wedding night in King Tut's tomb and how she left him the next morning for making her do weird stuff with a rotting corpse."
"Did that happen?"
"No."
"Read about the last voyage of Cleopatra's barge, and how it ended up in the hands of a Volvo dealer in White Plains."
"Is that true?"
"What are you--a moron?!
So I'm stuck in an elevator with that kid from the Encyclopedia Brittanica commercial. And I don't know what the hell he ate for lunch, but it must have been bad and it must have been refried.
So the kid says, "Hey, did I tell you I did an entire report for school by copying verbatim the Brittanica article on human excrement?"
"Did you get an A?" I ask, feigning interest in hopes of tasting a bit of his tight, white--
"Got a F."
"How come?"
"Wrong class. I forgot we don't do reports in calc."
"Stoned, huh?"
"Out of my fucking mind. But I did real good on my next one."
"English class, huh?"
"Wow, you must be like psychic."
I put my hand on the ruffian's shoulder, kinda digging his tousled blond mane. "Well don't you think we all are? For example, a mother in California puts her hand on a hot stove. At the exact same instant, her long-lost twin sister takes a dump in her pants during the original Friday the Thirteenth movie."
"That doesn't prove anything. Which part?"
"The scene where she opens up the fridge and find the decapitated head."
"You fucking bullshitter. That was part two."
"So it was. Well listen kid, do you like girls?"
"I think I've made that abundantly clear."
"Huh?"
"Sorry. That's my best line. Got to say it."
"All right. Hey kid, you know there are some things a woman
will never know about a man."
The kid pressed the button for his floor over and over.
"Goddammed elevator."
"Men have a violence in them that is completely foreign to a
woman. Hey kid, do you have anything leather?"
"Just a skirt."
"Well put it on."