Prime Real Estate in Squaresville
When will this be over? When will this all end? I kept thinking, until, finally, it was! We all did our usual thing, the post-meeting extra cup of coffee, a donut or two, catch up on memos we didn’t receive and general office chit-chat. (Except that asshole Bob, always too good to care what anyone else thinks.) I got an eyeful of that one new secretary, Jane. As much as I could with her sitting next to me, anyway. Brad said he’d ask her along after but he didn’t. Forgot, he said, but I know he “forgot” on purpose, just as he likes to “forget” to do his fucking job sometimes though they pay him so well for it. Good luck ever getting him to do a friend a favor. All those girls are the same, anyhow, they only drink together so they can mutual reinforce each other’s sluttish behavior with the blue-collar losers and so-called artists they meet at clubs.
Brad and I knocked off to make happy hour at our usual place, and soon I found out why he was so quick to “forget”. He’s dating a fucking stripper! That gloating bastard was grinning ear to ear. “We’d all had quite a few, you know, and it was our last stop for the night. Hugh dared to go and talk to this one girl, real tall and leggy, over at the bar. Nooo way did he think I’d really do it, though! You know I’ve always had my luck with the ladies, but it was like magic, this time. I strolled up beside her, right, the model of affluent confidence, and when she turned to me, I gave her my best smile, and said to her, straight up, ‘Don’t worry, honey, I can afford you.’ Man, it was fucking smooth. Fortune favors the brave, and I tell you lady luck smiled on me that night. It’s nothing serious, of course, I mean I can’t be bringing a fucking girl like that home, those bitches are all crazy, but man, let me tell you some of the shit this girl will do in bed…”
By the time he was done bragging about his latest conquest, I was drunk, tired, and feeling fatter than ever. Brad took off saying he was supposed to pick up his new “fuck toy” when her shift ended. I stayed, had one more, then climbed into my car and came home. After I got out, I patted Beemer affectionately above her hood ornament as always, but then I paused, I don’t know why. My garage was clean and quiet, everything was quiet. Just the ticking of a cooling Bavarian engine. For a second I got the urge to just lay down on the smooth, cool concrete and look at things, but it passed and I came inside instead. Now I’m sitting here, and I feel like I’m missing out. Like… there’s things out there happening right now. Maybe what I need is a wife, or like what Brad has. Better, I’d put her through school, get her out of dancing, make her grateful to me, or I could get one of those mail-order brides, a nice Russian girl from Siberia. I’d seem like a prince to her. Every thing’s for sale these days, and why shouldn’t it be? I work hard for my money, don’t I?
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