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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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I'm on the bus, in front of me is a thirty-something Bob-Dylanish guy, in the seat in front of him is a teenager in those silky basketball shorts. The teenager gets up to leave, the waistband of his shorts is entirely around his knees. Not sort-of around his knees, or hanging low on the ass, no, his shorts are around his knees. His underwear, red boxers with a cartoon print, are entirely pulled up his ass. He reaches behind to tug them up, can't find them, has to quickly squat and haul them up, but only a bit, to his thighs.
When he's off the bus I lean forward to the Bob-Dylanish guy and say "If you wanna be cooler than that your going to have to take your trousers right off when you go to get off the bus...."
He turns and looks at me. "WHAT DID YOU SAY?"
So I repeat it, finding it hard to believe he didn't notice the little show in front of him.
"I wasn't staring at his ass, you know man....I'm not a Homo!!"
It's a bit of a non-sequitor, really. I have only 2 observations which he wouldn't understand.
1) Anyone who denies being a "homo", without having been accused or propositioned, is probably a homo.
2) Anyone who uses the phrase "Homo" is definitely a homo.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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My daughter comes with us, she's unusually quiet and well behaved. Makes a demure and false impressions on strangers.
The Yakuza, he tells me, have a death ray. It's part of a vow of revenge they made against North America for the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. It's in space, based on secret technologies developed by Tesla. They've got it aimed at Yellowstone, 2 death rays, actually. When they give the order the rays will fan out and destroy all life in North America. Depopulate it by 80%. It works by seperating the essential electromagnetic field from the body, killing you instantly. They tested it on 2 villages in Japan. No, he doesn't remember the names of the villages, but he'll send me the links. The Israelis, not such nice guys themselves, have actually intervened 4 times to have us saved. Maybe we won't be so lucky next time. He's just telling me as a heads up....
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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Sometimes I miss our conversations. This one, it's a tough one, but it has to be done.
“One Plus one” I begin “equals two”.
“In your opinion” she counters.
“No, no, always. One plus one equals two”
“How do you know?”
“Let me give you an example.”
I pull a couple of pennies from my pocket, I came prepared.
“But what if you add another penny?” She asks
“then you’re changing the question, or premise….”
“Or used walnuts instead..”
“It wouldn’t matter….”
“You never liked one!” she sobs….”You think your numbers are so perfect….”
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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It's New Years Eve and I'm winding up my daughter. She's been complaining about us, her mother and I, and I suggest to her the idea of the "Parent Swap".
She's intrigued and so I explain.
"Every New Years Day you can take your parents into the parent swap and switch them for parents that you like better...."
It sounds too good to be true.
"Make up your mind. Lots of kids do it, you just look around, find some parents that you like better, and they take you home...."
She doesn't know whether to trust me or not, I must be joking, and after some deliberation she decides to keep us.
"That's fine..." I tell her..."But I'm still taking you to the Child Swap".
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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In the chair, deftly parrying questions, the conversation slips off course, off topic, circling around and around. It's a slippery interrogation.
Always these things, the elephant in the room.
She's evasive, holding her cards close to her chest. She has many admirers kept on hold, in the wings, at arms length, just far enough to keep their interest, the men in waiting. She loves to play the coquette, cherishes her scarlet reputation as the woman other women love to hate.
She wouldn't have it any other way.
She's beautiful, but it won't last forever, she knows this and the entourage that would pay homage to her favours needs to be fed on a light diet of hope and encouragement. There are no denials, only postponements. Today the phone will ring, tomorrow she will answer with some light excuse as to how busy she's been, busy today, but perhaps on the weekend....
We're equals, or so she thinks, because we're in this room together, she thinks that I want what everyone else has wanted from her, that I am somehow priviledged to be in her presence, fortunate to have been chosen when there are so many others.....
She's a very foolish girl.