Blogosphere / Way Off Broadway


Thank All of You

My son Justice was having trouble sleeping and my husband Houston had forbidden me from giving him sips of brandy to get him to knock out.

“Read to me daddy,” Justice asked from his bed.

I read from a fantasy storybook, “Our hero, Implorious, called out through the mist ‘Bring back my steed!’ but the half-elf, Squishel, then said ‘He can’t come back, he’s in the Neverwas now, I’m sorry Implorious,’” I then dropped the book on the floor and began stepping on it, “fuck this shit, oops, I mean, uh, fluff this shirt, that’s what I really said Justice.”

Justice reached over and patted my shirt in an attempt to fluff it.

“Thank you Justice, I need to stop reading that book,” I thought of alternatives, “I could tell you a story from my own head instead.”

Justice recoiled, “Those are scary!”

“Oh, come on, it’s about the time all my friends dumped me,” I assured with an entertaining sound in my voice.

Justice sat up, “You had friends? Well, I guess I wanna know, tell me daddy.”

I started the story, “Long ago, your daddy Dean went out all the time, every night and to all the clubs on earth.  These were not your average clubs, these were clubs run by the elite super popular Ram Jordan.  Ram Jordan was the most popular person that ever existed and he had a secret eyeblinking language that only popular kids could understand.  Back in those days, there were rules to popularity and the biggest rule was NO POPULAR KIDS PAST 40.”

“Wait daddy,” Justice interrupted, “you just turned 40 not too long ago, and you had that pool party, I remember that.”

“Shhhhhhh,” I then continued, “Anyway, I video chatted Ram after my 40th birthday to thank him for the goodbye present he got me and he just stared at me, he didn’t even blink, and he passed me to one of his assistants, they got on the video line and informed me that I was officially not popular anymore, that age had happened, and I was too old to talk to anybody there.  Even though I knew this was true, it really hurt for me to hear it.”

At this point, Justice was asleep because the idea of being over 40 was also boring for him.  I sort of understood, I mean, how are you going to go out to clubs and make them fun if all you can do is fall asleep at 9pm.  It was at that moment that I decided to embrace boredom and get a job with The State Tax Agency.

My husband Houston asked me about my decision, “Now, this is a real job you know, unlike the past where you paid more money to have a sitter take care of the kids than you actually made… what I’m trying to say is, do you think you’re mentally able to work for The State Tax Agency?”

“Of course I am, I’m officially old, my brain is fried from decades of drug use, and I forget the question,” I reasoned.

“Okay, you’re my husband, I love you, and I support your decision,” Houston gave me a wonderful and passionate kiss.

I lied on my job application and said I had never been arrested or evaded taxes or destroyed State property or all the other things that seemed good to keep to myself.  My interview was surprisingly like every interview I’ve ever had.

“What experience do you have?” The Interviewer asked.

I stood up and started to unbutton my shirt, “I didn’t think you’d want me to take off all my clothes so soon in the interview but if I’m going to show you what I’m truly capable of, you need to see everything I’ve got, no touching though, no kissing, I’m just putting on a show, okay, you’ll see it all.”

“Wait,” The Interviewer stopped me, “I mean, what job experience do you have?”

“Oooh, that?” I puzzled, “I still have to take off my clothes.”

I got the job and was sent to my new boss’s office.

“That phone has been ringing, are we going to pick it up?” I asked my boss.

“Oh no, we never pick up the phone, not enough funding…” He explained.

I misheard him say ‘not enough fun Dean…’ so I said, “If picking up the phone is no fun, then what do you guys do for fun around here?”

He pulled down his pants and got on top of his desk, ass up.  I was a bit startled because I was in a monogamous marriage and wasn’t about to screw the boss.

“No, no, no, it’s not what you think,” He pulled out a bag of white powder, “here, this is some space dust I picked up from a lobbyist, please just tap some out onto my butt and shove your nose in it, now that’s fun!”

I was relieved I didn’t have to cheat on my husband to keep my job, “Sure, I’ll snort coke off your ass while some poor taxpayer pointlessly calls our office, this is fun!”

My boss then agreed, “Yes, this is fun, let’s snort coke off each other’s asses all day!”

“Yay, I love working for the State, yay!”

We spent the next 5 hours coming up with terrible band names like: Hamster Mother, Shebadger, and Wolf Rabbit (all of these probably exist as part of a terrible trend in band names today and they are awful…).  After pressing two buttons on the computer and sending erroneous tax collection notices to everyone in the State, I went home.

That night, I reflected on what I had learned and told my family at dinner about my day, “It’s all about being who you are, we take so much for granted in life, and let so many opportunities pass us by but being in the moment, like allowing myself to be successful in a brand new career, that’s what I have my family to be thankful for, my largest supporters are right here in front of me, all of you, and when I look in the mirror, I see another supporter in my life today, I’ve learned what it means to be loved, supported, and happy, so thank all of you.”

Thank all of you.

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