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April 23, 2006
Conversations with My Mailman II
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As I was exiting the liquor store around the corner, I nearly walked into my mailman, who was getting some lunch. He seemed to be walking a little stiffly and I asked him if he were alright.
He turned to the cashier to conduct his business and, talking over his shoulder, mentioned how the warmer weather means more sweat, especially where the strap from his bag rubs his chest and back, and more especially in his crotch. He said the other day he put a thermometer down his pants and after a minute he pulled it out and it read 126°.
The real problem is the choice of underpants; this girl he knows prefers he wear boxers, but those chafe his scrotum and upper thighs when he's working. He has some briefs, but they're so stretched out that they don't provide comfort either.
We left together and I was going to ask why he couldn't get some more. I don't want to force a consumer-mindset on anyone, but a fresh pair of underpants every now and then is quite affordable, and really brightens one's day.
However, once we were outside, he confided the most significant reason for his diminished state of perambulation:
"A couple days ago I finished the shift, and, being Monday, stopped at the bar - the Orbit bar. Now, I was chewing gum to get that cigarette taste off my breath, and I see the new bartender, cute girl, young. I didn't want to look like a cow chewing my cud, and I didn't want to look like no camel either, spitting my gum somewhere - so I swallowed it. No big deal, I've swallowed gum before."
"Anyway, this bartender, she's friends with someone I know, and cousins with someone else I know, and I know they're both going to tell her to watch out for me, that I'm no good, and so on and so forth, so I wouldn't put money on anything going anywhere."
"But whatever, you know? So, the next morning, I'm having my morning shit, with a cup of coffee, a Winston, and the paper. I finish up and go to wipe, and it's like tar down there - like half of La Brea coming out my butt; I use up nearly a whole roll just trying to scoop it all out."
"It's time for a shower anyway, so I try to finish the job in there, and get it pretty clean, except for one really sticky bit caught in the hair. I tug and yank but just can't get it out."
"I smell my fingers, and... they're minty fresh! It's the gum! I have a gum dingleberry that refuses to vacate my asshole!"
"If I had just rinsed it in the first place, it probably would have been fine, but all the wiping ended up just getting this gum-ball all tangled up in the hair. So, what can I do? I try pulling it out until tears come to my eyes. I could shave it, but it's too close to the skin to get a razor in there. I could use a knife or scissors, but I can't see what I'm doing, and I don't want to slip, you know? Slicing up your own anus first thing in the morning is no way to start your day."
"I get out of the shower, water running, and get a pen, go back in the shower, and holding the gumbleberry in my left hand behind my back, I use the pen to isolate each hair holding it in place and rip them out one by one. I tell you, I was crying like a baby in church"
"I finally finish and my knees are wobbling, and my ass feels like it's on fire. I look at the gum, and it's green, which is weird because I only chew white gum."
"So, from now on, listen to me, I'm going to spit my gum in the street like everyone else."
Posted by mslaybau at April 23, 2006 06:37 PM
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