Right…Ann. So, after trying really hard to not be so judgmental (at least on the surface) with these amazingly ignorant, bland, and incredibly boring people I had gone to high school with. I was able to contact Ann. I guess the good news is that she remembered me. Too bad it was for that ugly Richie stuff and the lawsuit. She was even supposed to testify against me if it went to trial. Oh well, it’s better than being forgotten. OK, maybe not. But it is what it is. Let’s just say it took lots of my skills as a professional bullshit artist and persuader to get her to agree to meet with me.
I didn’t drink tea but Jackson’s Tea Bar worked out just fine. As I started to say ever-so-long ago, she looked really, really, really good. Really. I wasn’t sure if this made me happier because I still wanted to bang her. Or more bummed that she hadn’t put on a few pounds and would be grateful that someone like me was paying attention to her. Alright, not exactly grateful but more receptive. Keep in mind, the entire time this conversation with her is happening I am focused as much on not farting as on the actual conversation. This was the sad plight of someone with CFS. I even had to get up a few times using lame excuses to go fart somewhere else. See Self-Righteous One, judgmental, mean people like me always get their comeuppance. Happy now? Anyway, as I was saying. Jackson’s worked just fine. Although it didn’t really start that way.
Aside from the fact that my stomach was interfering far more than I had wished with my studly advances on Ann, the conversation had also started off kind of bad. What should have been just “hey, how have you been?” small talk, turned into a discussion about Jackson’s Tea Bar. Specifically, the advertising, most of which Yours Truly had created.
Ann didn’t know that when she started to tell me how much she hated it. Not only did she hate it. She found it truly offensive. The campaign was based around the idea that famous evil-doers and dictators had coffee as the true cause for their various terrible deeds. For instance, an illustration of Ghengis Kahn smoting down various villagers with the headline “Too Much Coffee?” It then went onto my ever wonderful tag line…JACKSON’S TEA. THE MELLOW ALTERNATIVE. Funny, right? Oh, come on, you know you like it. Too bad Ann thought it was offensive and just plain wrong to make light of such incredible evil and the suffering said dictators wreaked upon the world. She particularly took offense to one of Mao. I guess I’m lucky that the one of Hitler got squashed by the Account people. Even luckier, she didn’t connect the ads she was taking such offense from with the handsome figure of ME sitting in front of her. All the same, things looked really bad in terms of getting her au natural in le sac avec moi. Didn’t know I spoke French, did you?
However, what was really killing me, aside from the great bladder of gas building inside my intestines, was this. Ann was really smart. I love smart. I adore smart. Smart makes me horny. Smart made me want her more than I ever had. That’s saying something considering this girl was a three-times-a-day activity of mine, mentally speaking, during high school. As she sat there reciting various historical facts about what Ghengis Khan had done and what Mao had done (never have the words “Cultural Revolution” ever given me such a hard on) I just started to get really, really depressed. What? You’re confused? Stay with me here. It goes something like this.
One of the reasons I had been such a stud in recent months (relatively speaking) was because I didn’t really care. All the women involved were, essentially, names on a list and tasks to be crossed off. Now, if you’ve been paying even the slightest attention, you know that’s not quite true and I did care. However, overall, they were still, for the most part, tasks to be accomplished. But as Ann kept talking. Looking so beautiful. Sounding so damn knowledgeable and intelligent. I started to care even more. Too much. Which leads to nervousness. Which leads to me being quiet, tense, and farting even more. Which leads to no Ann. Hence, depression.
I guess some things were never meant to be. That unattainable girl from High School would forever remain unattainable. I was doomed. I thought about breaking my vow and telling her I was dying. I wanted her that much. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Even a whining self-absorbed Asshole like me has his boundaries. What I did to Meagan still haunted me. I couldn’t live with myself if I did it again (so to speak, per se).
But we talked. And talked. For quite a while, actually. And it all started to feel really good. I started to feel really good. Not only had my stomach stopped doing it’s thing, but I just started thinking that I could make this happen. That I could, indeed, make Ann mine. Which leads us to…
EXT. JACKSON’S TEA BAR – DAY
Ann, a really, really, really hot looking woman in her early-thirties and a hung-like-a-horse, Tom Cruise-type (that would be ME) talk in the parking lot.
Ann, there’s something you should know.
The reason I looked you up after all
She looks at ME with concern.
(No, I didn’t do that. After what I just told you? You really don’t think very highly of me, do you?)
This is the real one. The low-down. The scoop of what really happened that fateful day.
Ann, thanks a lot for meeting me like
this. I’m sure it was weird for you to
have someone call you up like that.
Especially, someone who had some problems
with you and your boyfriend before.
Richie deserved it. He was being a jerk.
I think part of me was even glad you
beat him up like that.
(I swear, she actually DID say that. Really.)
Well, I wasn’t. I just…It was bad.
Let’s just leave it at that.
How long are you in town for?
A week or so, probably. I’m kind of
playing it by ear.
Is that your car?
What? Yeah, it’s a Mini-Cooper.
I know. I always wanted to drive one.
You can drive my stick-shift anytime, Baby.
(No, I did better than that. Really. What sort of moron do you think I am? What I said was…)
We should take care of that then.
I toss her the keys. She drops them. I breath a sigh of relief I didn’t accidentally hit her in the face with them. So much for being cool. And then she bends over to get them. Which I am liking. And then she bites her lip as she thinks. Which I am really, really liking. And then…
Damn, I really want to. But I can’t.
I have to be somewhere.
Really? You sure.
She walks over and hands me back the keys. Our hands touch for a second. I can almost see the super-slow-motion close up of our skin touching and her little smile. That look in her eye at the moment of contact.
Well, thanks anyway for the offer. It
was good seeing you, again.
Yeah, you too.
And she starts to walk away.
This was one of those moments where I can usually count on not thinking of the right thing to do or say until about ten minutes too late.
Ann, listen, if you’re going to be
around, I could come by sometime
with the car for you. You could
give it a little test drive and
see how you like it.
She just looks at me. And smiles. I keep waiting for her to say something. Anything. “Yes.” “No.” Whatever. But no. She just waves, gets in her car, and drives off.
So I ask you this…WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT???! I am so confused. I mean, more than usual. Explain. Someone please, please explain. Is that a polite “no.” A “maybe.” What? What the fuck did that mean? I just don’t understand. What just happened? And what the hell is Ghengis Kahn laughing at over there? Evil Mother-Fucker.
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