Happy Times

I had to step out of the "office" for a little while yesterday.

The guys in the office are so ghetto, if you cut them gangsta rap comes out.

It got so bad at one point that I really and truly had to excuse myself.

Now, you have to understand, 42nd Floorers, I AM NOT RACIST! My siblings and I were raised with the assistance of a number of ethnic women who lived in our home and taught us that, yes, our skin may be different, but deep down, we're all still regular people.

But sometimes I wish I could use the N word every once in a while. I mean, geeze. THEY get to. I guess the reason I can't is because my ancestors never experienced discrimination. That makes sense.

Street fights (yes, as in this) came up as a topic of conversation. Someone asked me if I had ever been in a street fight. And after my declaration that "You don't F___ with the Fork", I made a 180 and assured them that, no, I had never been in a fight before, with or without hadoukens.

Vance, the 23 year old goth geek who thinks he knows EVERYTHING, found this impossible to believe.

"Fork, at some point in your life, you WILL be forced into a fight with someone on the street."

"No I won't," I said.

"Let me give you a scenario. You're on the subway, minding your own business, when a guy gets on who looks like he's really really pissed. It's really crowded and his feet bump against yours. He looks at you and shouts, 'WHY'D YOU KICK ME, KID?!' What do you do?"

"Uhh...I guess...if he's a big, angry guy, I'd diffuse this potential confrontation by just saying sorry and going back to my book."

"..............You would?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

"What?"

"You mean...you wouldn't stand up and tell him that you didn't kick him and that he's an effing psycho who needs to calm down?"

"No. If I did that we'd probably get into a fight."


So that was Vance. Then there's Tom.

Tom is the energetic "idea" guy. He's the one who came from Atlanta two months ago to seek his fortune in the Big City.

Every day he tells us about these fabulous ideas he has to make a million dollars in six months. And most of his ideas, like opening a revolutionary **new** kind of store where you can get whatever you wanted printed on a t-shirt, have been done before or aren't very good.

Last night he was talking to us about how his friend and him came up with this character called Jesus in Santa Monica. The idea behind the character is that if Jesus came back today, he would be a fish out of water. Like when you go to Santa Monica.

....


You know, like, Jesus goes out with some friends to a diner and they skimp on the tip and leave in a hurry. Then the waitress comes by and screams at Jesus because it looks like HE skimped on the tip. And then Jesus says, "I forgive you" and makes the guys he was with throw up blood as punishment.


....



Yeah.


So he's upset because his friend and roommate has taken the idea and turned it into his film project for school. The roommate is even talking about taking the character further and trying to start some kind of franchise based on Jesus in Santa Monica.

Tom was really upset about this. Fights had ensued. Words were had. Their longtime friendship was on the rocks.

But the roommate stealing the idea wasn't his main concern.

"We've been friends for so long. And now we don't talk to each other. I don't even CARE about this stupid character anymore. I just want my friend back. But I feel like it's all changed now. That trust, that camaraderie, it's all gone. And I'm afraid we'll never get it back."

Touched by Tom's vulnerability, I decided there was no way his friend would be able to resist honesty like that.

"Well, Tom," I said, "Have you told your friend exactly that? I mean, JUST like how you're telling us right now?"

"Of course I did," Tom replied earnestly. "I went into his room and told him he was a total F_3$%ing a#$9hole and that I wasn't gonna put up with it anymore."


Right.