by Lee Ellis
“All I’m saying is that if I were pregnant, I’d want to have a choice,” Olivia said, since apparently she’d decided that abortion was a fun topic to discuss over drinks on a relaxing night out. If you were pregnant, I think we’d all be in agreement on that. After all, people are only against abortion until somebody they hate gets pregnant.
Henry shifted uncomfortably and looked at Jacob, who looked at Henry, who looked back at Olivia, who continued her sermon, either oblivious or indifferent to the discomfort of her associates. It’s absolutely amazing how I can completely agree with somebody, and yet want them to shut up so badly, Jacob thought as Olivia reiterated the same talking point for the fourth time.
“So, Jacob, you’re new at LDC?” Patricia asked, knowing the answer but trying to lighten the conversation because she was a decent person. A decent person who was somehow dating (or “life partnering”? What the fuck ever.) David Craig Chen.
“Uh, yeah. I just started there Monday.”
“Nice. Where did you work before that?”
“I didn’t. Um, I just graduated college.” The two looked at each other awkwardly, then looked at the ground before Jacob said, “So how about you? I mean, where do you work?”
The conversation continued in this vein for some time, with the two asking questions they didn’t care about and feigning interest in their answers while secretly wishing they were elsewhere. Patricia was surprisingly tolerable for someone who had made a conscious decision, with no coercion or other incentives, to willingly enter into an intimate relationship with David. Nevertheless, the conversation remained awkward, as neither party had any interest in the other, nor the content of the conversation, which was only kept alive by the fact that it was nominally less awkward than staring off into space. It was the type of conversation that occurs between two people who couldn’t care less if the other died tomorrow until it was ended by a tap on Jacob’s shoulder.
“Hey, Jacob,” Lucy said with an overly energetic and happy wave, despite the fact that she was standing less than two feet away, which would seem to defeat the entire purpose of waving, a method to greet or acknowledge an acquaintance some distance from oneself. Jacob then went in for a friendly greet hug, which Lucy returned albeit somewhat awkwardly, which Jacob found unusual, as they’d greet hugged numerous times in the past.
“What’s up?” she asked, chewing her gum.
“Not much. Drinking and hanging out,” Jacob said, which frankly should have been obvious to Lucy, since there isn’t really much else that people do in bars when there are no televisions or pool tables around.
“Cool. Mind if I sit?” Lucy asked pointlessly, since nobody says yes in these situations.
“Yes,” Jacob said, since Jacob is the type of dickhead who would say that, though in this case I suspect he simply wanted to prove me wrong. Because he’s a dickhead.
“Are you serious?” Lucy asked.
“No, of course not. Have a seat,” Jacob said, a little frustrated that she hadn’t picked up on the sarcasm, although it wasn’t at all obvious from Jacob’s tone and mannerisms that he was joking. Besides, it was a rather predictable and stupid joke, one that anybody with half a brain would realize wasn’t worth the effort.
“So, how was your first week of work?” Lucy asked, as she sat down.
Jacob shrugged. “Pretty good. I’m still kind of trying to figure out some things about the company and what not, but other than that and the smell, it’s gone alright.”
Lucy sipped her stupid girly drink with an umbrella through a straw and nodded. “Pretty much par for the course, then. What are you still figuring out? I mean, is it anything I can help you with?”
“Oh, you know, just general stuff, like where things are or what the company does.”
“Oh, Jacob, you’re such a jokester,” Lucy laughed, hitting him softly on the shoulder.
“Uh, yeah. A joke. That’s what I was going for,” Jacob said all shifty-eyed, sipping his beer, jealous of Lucy’s girly drink. “It was definitely a joke, and not an admission of the fact that I’ve been here a week and still don’t know what we do. So, uh, how’s working in the mailroom?”
“Um, actually, I’m a secretary now.”
“Oh? When did that happen?”
“Some time ago. Before you got here. I’ve told you this.”
“Have you, now?”
“Numerous times, yes.”
“Alright,” Jacob said, rolling his eyes at how annoyed Lucy was that he couldn’t remember rather significant details of her life, despite the fact that she had mentioned them repeatedly. Jacob would have known this, had he ever bothered to pay attention when Lucy was talking. “So, how was your week as a secretary?”
“Well,” Lucy said. Then she went into detail about her job, her week, and her interpersonal relationships with her coworkers, but it was all wasted on Jacob, who wasn’t paying attention. From her tone, it was a bunch of drama bullshit, but who knows. I would transcribe what she said here, but frankly I stopped paying attention almost immediately as well. It was rather boring.
“I mean, maybe she’ll come around, but seriously, what are the chances of that happening?” a now exasperated Lucy asked while Jacob stared at her and nodded.
David chuckled. “About the same chance God has of existing,” he said smugly, yet for some reason still capitalized the “g” in his statement.
Patricia smacked him. “Honey, do you have to be like that?”
“What, honey, I’m just stating the facts,” David said, apparently unclear to the difference between a fact and an opinion. “Besides, we’re all educated, intelligent people here. It’s not like anyone here actually believes in that nonsense.”
“I believe in God,” Lucy said.
The skies cleared, everyone’s eyes went wide, and silence overtook the group. The environment quickly became similar to that before a shootout in the Old West. I’m pretty sure one guy at the other table actually tried to hide under his seat.
“Oh, shit,” Olivia said.
Henry rolled his eyes. “God damn it. Here it comes.”
“Damn it, David, not again,” Patricia muttered under her breath.
“FUCK!” Jacob shouted. “Fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Fuck!”
For a minute, David just stared at Lucy like he was broken. He appeared unable to comprehend the words that had come out of Lucy’s mouth, as if she had spoken some foreign language instead of a fairly simple sentence in the language he had been fluent in all his life. A couple of times he started to speak, but continued to stare at her as if he were trying to figure out if he was part of some twisted practical joke, if he were dreaming, or if he had simply misheard what she had said. Eventually he managed to realize that she had, in fact, expressed an opinion different from his own.
“But… but you’re smart,” David said, still trying to comprehend the fact that smart is not synonymous with agreeing with him. “How could you believe that?”
“I’m going to step out for a smoke. Olivia, would you care to join me?” Henry asked, rising up from his seat.
Olivia looked at him as if he’d just peed gasoline on an orphan and then set him on fire. “No. I don’t smoke.”
Henry sighed. “Neither do I.”
“Then why are you going outside to smoke?”
Henry rolled his eyes and turned to Jacob. “Jacob, how about you?”
“Hell yeah,” said Jacob, who also didn’t smoke but did know how to read between the lines. “Let’s go pee on orphans.”
“What? No. We’re stepping out for a smoke, not murdering orphans.”
“Oh,” a disappointed Jacob said. “Uh, yeah, I’ll join you.”
“Wait, isn’t anyone going to answer my question?” Olivia asked as Jacob and Henry made their way to the door.
Henry and Jacob started to head outside, when Henry stopped and pointed to two empty seats at the bar.
“Wait, Jacob, there’s two empty seats at the bar,�
�� Henry reiterated. “Let’s just grab them and chill for a while.”
“Yeah, but we can’t smoke in here.”
“Well, we weren’t going to smoke anyway.”
“Yeah, but what about the orphans? Don’t they want to smoke?”
“Jacob, there are no orphans. I have no idea why you keep talking about orphans.”
“Whatever. You’re just a racist,” Jacob said as Henry ignored his latest non sequitur and ordered them two beers. Jacob actually wanted whatever fruity ass drink Lucy had earlier, but wasn’t secure enough in his manhood to order one.
“Yeah, this is better,” Henry said, sipping his beer. “I did not want to sit through that shit show.”
“Tell me about it. Listening to atheists and Christians argue is like listening to a ten-year old argue with a five-year old.”
“Exactly. See man, you get it.”
“I mean, you just want them to fuck and be done with it.”
“I know. Wait, what?”
“I mean, who thinks it’s appropriate to just throw out such a controversial topic into a casual conversation like that?”
“David, that’s who.”
“Fucking David,” Jacob said.
“Fucking David,” Henry agreed.
“He’s almost as bad as fucking Richard.”
“Who’s Richard?”
Jacob shook his head and went back to his beer, while Henry dropped the conversation because he didn’t really care who Richard was. Henry continued to sulk for a few minutes, before speaking up again.
“I mean, the thing is, I was a religious studies major. I find these debates interesting when they’re being held between two intelligent, thoughtful people.”
“Those exist?”
“Yeah, dude. The problem is they aren’t the ones having theological debates. It’s the most ignorant people who are the most willing to argue about it. The smart ones keep their mouths shut for the most part.”
“It’s almost like bars aren’t a great platform for scholarly conversations.”
Henry chuckled and sipped his beer. “I suppose that’s true. It’s just annoying, you know.”
“It’s the same with everything, though. On any topic, it’s the people with the strongest opinions who speak the most and speak the loudest. And people with strong opinions are idiots. That’s why they have strong opinions. Their heads are so far up their own asses loving the smell of their own shit that they can’t comprehend any other viewpoint.”
Henry shrugged. “I guess. There are exceptions, though.”
“Sure, and not all snowflakes are white,” Jacob said, trying to sound profound.
Henry nodded, drunkenly agreeing for a moment. “Wait a minute. Yes they are.”
“Some are yellow,” Jacob said, trying to defend his previous statement.
“Whatever,” Henry said. “But, I mean, you take someone like Olivia.”
“No.”
“I mean, she has strong opinions.”
“The woman who randomly decides to bring up abortion at a bar? You don’t say.”
“But I mean, she’s not stupid.”
“It’s not about intelligence. It’s about getting over yourself and being respectful of different views.”
“She’s respectful of different views.”
“No she’s not. She’s a bitch.”
“I mean, I don’t think she’s arrogant or self-centered.”
“Yes she is. Fuck her.”
Henry sipped his beer and stared off into what would have been the distance if they weren’t in a bar with the wall about ten feet away. “She’s cute too.”
“And there it is,” Jacob said, acknowledging the main difference between Olivia and David.
“She’s kind.”
“Is not.”
“And smart.”
“You aren’t even listening to me at this point, are you?”
“And sexy.”
“Right. I’m just going to go over here. Maybe hit on this chick.”
Jacob went up to a cute brunette with rather pronounced lips. “Hey. How’s it going?” said Don Juan.
“Hey, Jacob. Funny seeing you here.”
“Woah, wait a minute lady. How do you know my name?”
The brunette gave Jacob a confused look. “Jacob, it’s me. Janelle Atkins.”
“Oh, ok,” Jacob said, clearly not comprehending who she was.
“We’ve met before. Through Lucy.”
“I remember,” said Jacob. He didn’t.
“I live in your building.”
“You do?”
“On your floor. We’ve run into each other numerous times.”
“Huh. Small world,” Jacob said before leaving, still unsure who he’d been talking to.
Chapter 8-Jacob Tries to use a Kiddy Taser.
“How was your night out, sir? Did you bond rather properly with your co-workers?”
Jacob poured himself a glass of tomato juice and looked up at Reginald. “What the fuck am I, an element? How do you bond properly with somebody?”
“I don’t know, sir. All I meant to ask was whether it was time well spent or not.”
Jacob shrugged and opened up a banana. “I suppose. I mean, at least I got to discover which of my coworkers I can’t stand being around.”
“And which one would that be, sir?”
“All of them.”
Reginald coughed disapprovingly, like he knew what the hell he was talking about. “Perhaps a more optimistic outlook is in order, sir. A bit of an attitude adjustment as it were.”
“Why? They’re the ones that suck.”
“Perhaps, sir. But it occurs to me that you think everyone sucks.”
“So? They do.”
Reginald sighed. “Are you familiar with the joke about the guy who goes to his doctor?”
“Yes, Reginald. I know the one and only joke in history that begins with a man going to see his doctor.”
“Anyway, the man complains that it hurts when he touched his arm, or his stomach, or his knee. Anywhere, really. He asks the doctor what’s wrong, and the doctor tells the man he has a broken finger.”
“Hilarious. You Brits really can’t tell jokes worth shit, you know that? Anyway, what’s your point?”
“Oh, never mind, sir,” Reginald sighed. “Anyway, if you’re forced to work with these people anyway, perhaps a less negative attitude may ameliorate the situation, sir.”
“What?”
“Try hating them a little less, sir.”
“Fuck you, Reginald,” Jacob said, walking toward the window and looking out. “I’ll hate whoever I want to. This is America, damn it. The Constitution guarantees my right to hate whoever I want for whatever reason I want, and I’ll be damned if I let the founding fathers die for nothing.”
“I am not challenging your right to hate your coworkers, sir, merely the wisdom of doing so.”
“What?”
“Just because you can do something doesn’t mean it’s the smart thing to do.”
“Fuck you, Reginald,” Jacob said, looking out the window and pointing. “You see that man standing right there?”
Reginald looked over Jacob’s shoulder and out the window. “The one in the green shirt, sir, minding his own business?”
“Yeah. I hate him. You know why?”
Reginald sighed. “Why, sir?”
“Because this is America, and I fucking can.”
“Do as you will, sir.”
Jacob stared out the window at the man in the green shirt on the street below. “What a fucking asshole,” he said, chewing his banana angrily.
“So anyway, sir, I was reading through the paper before you awoke this morning.”
“Because you’re old. That’s what old people do, Reginald. They read newspapers.”
“Quite right, sir. Anyway, I noticed there was something on the telly this morning that might interest you.”
“Oh, really? Is it porn?”
“U
h, no, sir.”
“Because there’s plenty of porn on the internet. I don’t need televised porn anymore.”
“It’s not porn, sir. They don’t put porn on television, and they certainly don’t list it in the papers.”
“Well, I don’t know about that, because I don’t read newspapers. Because I’m not a dinosaur mummy.”
“Anyway, it’s a rugby match, sir.”
“Rugby match? Why the hell would I want to watch that?”
“It’s quite popular in Australia, sir.”
“So? What the fuck do I care what Australians like?”
Reginald rolled his eyes. “Didn’t you just go to a disco a few weeks ago for that very reason, sir?”
“Well, yeah, but that was just because I was trying to impress a girl. I got disco confused with dingo. I thought Australians liked disco. I was wrong.”
“Of course you were, sir, as always. Nobody likes disco. Rugby, on the other hand, Australians actually do enjoy.”
“There’s just one problem with that, Reginald Q. Fuckassleton,” Jacob said, chuckling to himself that he’d managed to turn Reginald’s surname into a string of profanities like a ten-year old. “I went to the disco thinking that maybe I’d run into Brenda there. How the hell is that going to happen if I’m watching rugby alone in my apartment?
“Well, I understand that, sir, but…”
“What, you think I’m just going to turn the television on, and women are going to come flocking to my apartment? Do you even remember what happened the last time I tried to lure women into my apartment like that?”
“I do, sir, but…”
“Though I do have to admit, that ‘sex offender’ status has had its perks. At least I don’t have to hand out candy on Halloween anymore.”
“That’s not what I was going for, sir.”
“Fine, Reginald, you win. We’ll try to lure some kids in here again. You get the wine. Remember to label it “Jesus juice” this time. I’m pretty sure that’s where we went wrong last time.”
“I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the problem, sir.”
“Then what was it Reginald? Because it sure as hell wasn’t the chocolate. Kids fucking love chocolate.”
