The Other McCain

"One should either write ruthlessly what one believes to be the truth, or else shut up." — Arthur Koestler

Three in a Row

Posted on | January 31, 2010 | 16 Comments

by Smitty

[Story motivated by a colleague who was on the receiving end of this scenario, but all details are original with me.]

*Da duh da duh* went the cel phone, wishing it could be the guitar in Satriani’s Chords of Life.
“Hello.”
“Steve, this is Jill.”
“Jill, how the heck are ya?”
“Oh, not too bad, I guess.”
“Really? That’s not my happy, take-charge Jill. Was Mandy’s wedding fun? Did you catch the garter? Is it just a case of the Mondays?”
“Yes. No. Maybe. Why did you blow Mandy’s wedding off?”
“We had a project partner in my Modern Control Systems class get mono, and the deliverable for Monday wasn’t waiting. By the way, can we go out for pizza or something to celebrate having that off my back?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Jill, what’s the problem? You sound 17 kinds of bummed out.”
“Kevin Thomas.”
“Mandy made the mistake of inviting him to her wedding?”
“Yeah. Turns out he was one of Timothy’s groomsmen.”
“Great. I sort of left Timothy in the lurch there, with my class project. I feel kind of bad about it all. Were the police called more than three times over Kevin?”
“No. No police.”
“What, then?”
“Well, you see, I had just broken up with Derek the day before flying to Tahoe for Mandy’s wedding…”
“So you were vulnerable…”
“…and I met Kevin at the baggage claim…”
“Ah, but you knew you weren’t ready to deal with him, so you went…”
“…to a bar right by the hotel, and had a couple of beers…”
“No one ever has more than two beers in this story, but I see where it goes. Which brings us full circle: why are you calling me? You know the rule against calling a dude to complain about another dude’s bad behavior.”
*sobbing* “I’m sorry Steve. It all just sort of happened, and now I don’t know what to do!”
“You haven’t mustered the knitting circle to discuss this?”
“No! I can’t let it out that I slept with Kevin! He’s such a sleaze! I would never live it down.”
“Well, (a) I really don’t know what to do,
(b) guys don’t manage relationships anyway, and
(c) I have a bodily function requiring attention.
The offer for pizza later stands, but you need to figure yourself out, STAT.”
“OK, see you at Elmo’s at 6.”
“Ok.Fine.See.Ya.Bye.”

*Da duh da duh*
Steve looked at the CallerID. Rebecca. Couldn’t the new issue of Linux Journal have lasted a little longer in the bathroom?
“Becky. How am I helping you?”
“You could shoot Kevin Thomas for me.”
“Becky, soliciting murder is at least tasteless, if not full-on illegal. What could Saint Kevin of Thomas possibly have done to offend you?”
“He got me drunk and took advantage of me.”
“Well, if you’re saying he raped you, then you should probably be talking to the police.”
“Oh, well, it really wasn’t like that…”
“Do I really want to know what happened?”
“Well, see, the rehearsal dinner was a blast. There was a table in the back, and we just kinda got giggly on the wine.”
“And then he just pounced?”
“Well, no. We piled into a van and went clubbing.”
“And then he just pounced?”
“Well, no. The club was kind of lame, so we went back to the hotel.”
“And then he just pounced?”
“Well, no. I pounced, to be honest about it.”
“Look, Becky: I’m a Baptist, not a Roman Catholic Priest. I really don’t know how you go about working the confession end of things. I also don’t think it’s cool to kick you when you’re down and raise alternative doctrines. I’m kind of booked tonight, but if you want to do lunch tomorrow, that would be OK with me.”
“Yeah, I need to figure this out.”

*Da duh da duh*
“Hi, Loretta! How was the wedding of the century?”
“For Mandy and Timothy, it was great. For me: terrible.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Kevin Thomas is a dick.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, even though I broke up with him last Fall, I still wanted to get back together.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, so, after the reception, I tried to chat him up.”
“Let’s see: he was distant, distracted, arrogant, and aloof.”
“I thought you weren’t there.”
“I wasn’t. Duty called. But he became a challenge to you femininity. You had to conquer him, to make him yours, to have him in thrall again…”
“I wouldn’t put it like that, but, yeah.”
“…and, after more champagne than you can specifically remember, you moved him off to a secluded place to ‘Talk about us’…”
“Yes.”
“…and the discussion turned passionate, and you thought the non-verbal communication meant that everything was patched up…”
“Yes…”
“…and now that knave isn’t returning your phone calls…”
“YES!”
“…which is why you’re calling me, to see if Kevin’s either talked to me, or if I have any dirt on him.”
“Yes.”
“Well, no, no, and I really don’t enjoy being used as a pawn, even if you are drop-dead gorgeous. Good bye, Loretta.”
Click.

*Da duh da duh*
“What, Kevin?”
“Steve, how’s it goin’ man? How about going out for a beverage? The wedding was awesome–you should’ve been there.”
“You know, I feel as if I was.”
“Really? How is that, then?”
“Jill. Rebecca. Loretta, in that order.”
“Oh. Well, at least you didn’t hear from Wyn–”
“I don’t want to know, you rakehell. Oh, and, by the way: you might consider a trip to the doctor, just to have everything checked out.”
“One of them wasn’t clean? The slut! Which one was it?”
“Two points; no, three: none of them got into detail, none of them admitted any problems, and you have no basis whatsoever to call anyone a slut, ever, dick. I got three phone calls in rapid succession about what an opportunistic freak you are. It’s like all of the punishment for the sin, without even the momentarily interesting part–not that I’m significantly tempted, mind you. You treat your manhood like a video game, rutting about like a dog in an alley full of bitches in heat. Except I know those women, and–”
“Now stop the preaching right there, putz. They were all consenting adults…”
“And this abdicates you of all responsibility? Is life your own version of Airplane, Kevin? …they bought their tickets, they knew what they were getting into. I say, let ’em crash.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“No. You’re the male in this farce. What you should be is a man, and saying something like: I’m sorry, to all of these women whom you’ve used as sperm recepticles. Don’t laugh. This is serious stuff, Kevin, not some kind of joke.”
“Who set you up as the judge, Mr. High and Stevie?”
“It’s not about me, you clown. It’s about you. I forgive you for the way your selfish, careless actions have ended up wrecking my afternoon. If you want to talk again later, after you’ve pulled your head out, I’ll be here. Goodbye.”

Category: Fiction

Comments

16 Responses to “Three in a Row”

  1. Bill A
    February 1st, 2010 @ 6:14 am

    Satriani is old hat.
    It’s all Brendon Small these days.

  2. Bill A
    February 1st, 2010 @ 1:14 am

    Satriani is old hat.
    It’s all Brendon Small these days.

  3. B-Daddy
    February 1st, 2010 @ 6:17 am

    Was there a point to this? It seems like a Seinfeld plot to me. Kevin is never going to grow up until its almost too late. Those women are unlikely to learn self respect on their own. They need to read this story, or at least understand its meaning, or they will continue to lack meaningful relationship in their lives.

  4. B-Daddy
    February 1st, 2010 @ 1:17 am

    Was there a point to this? It seems like a Seinfeld plot to me. Kevin is never going to grow up until its almost too late. Those women are unlikely to learn self respect on their own. They need to read this story, or at least understand its meaning, or they will continue to lack meaningful relationship in their lives.

  5. OhioCoastie
    February 1st, 2010 @ 9:24 am

    Kevin’s on track to die single, jaded, & alone.

  6. OhioCoastie
    February 1st, 2010 @ 4:24 am

    Kevin’s on track to die single, jaded, & alone.

  7. smitty
    February 1st, 2010 @ 12:06 pm

    @B-Daddy,
    It is what it is.
    Part of what I think makes a good short story is that it, while complete, leaves room for the reader to derive their own point.
    If the story made an explicit, final point, then it would be a sermon.

  8. smitty
    February 1st, 2010 @ 7:06 am

    @B-Daddy,
    It is what it is.
    Part of what I think makes a good short story is that it, while complete, leaves room for the reader to derive their own point.
    If the story made an explicit, final point, then it would be a sermon.

  9. liamascorcaigh
    February 1st, 2010 @ 4:35 pm

    “If the story made an explicit, final point, then it would be a sermon.”

    For a story that’s explicitly not a sermon Steve sure does a lot of sermonizing to Kevin. He is a sanctimonious prig. And yes, the three women are sluts and Kevin’s a horn dog. They deserve each other. Why Kevin alone should apologize to women who abase themselves willingly, nay eagerly, is quite a mystery. Should they not equally be obliged to apologize to him for using him sexually to work off their frustrations, anxieties and sense of inadequacy? Apparently not.

    The subtext here is that in any exchange of bodily fluids the male is ipso facto the predator while any and all females are the haplessly beguiled victims of his ruthless phallus. What utter tosh!

    BTW, while this piece is well written, if not very coherently conceived, it is not a short story. It’s short and it’s a story but this story consists merely of an anecdote containing three other anecdotes topped off with some facile selective social moralizing which, because of its selectivity, renders the whole exercise absurd.

  10. liamascorcaigh
    February 1st, 2010 @ 11:35 am

    “If the story made an explicit, final point, then it would be a sermon.”

    For a story that’s explicitly not a sermon Steve sure does a lot of sermonizing to Kevin. He is a sanctimonious prig. And yes, the three women are sluts and Kevin’s a horn dog. They deserve each other. Why Kevin alone should apologize to women who abase themselves willingly, nay eagerly, is quite a mystery. Should they not equally be obliged to apologize to him for using him sexually to work off their frustrations, anxieties and sense of inadequacy? Apparently not.

    The subtext here is that in any exchange of bodily fluids the male is ipso facto the predator while any and all females are the haplessly beguiled victims of his ruthless phallus. What utter tosh!

    BTW, while this piece is well written, if not very coherently conceived, it is not a short story. It’s short and it’s a story but this story consists merely of an anecdote containing three other anecdotes topped off with some facile selective social moralizing which, because of its selectivity, renders the whole exercise absurd.

  11. smitty
    February 1st, 2010 @ 5:42 pm

    @liamascorcaigh,
    I thank you for the feedback, and would be genuinely interested in seeing a link to your positive definition of “short story”.

  12. smitty
    February 1st, 2010 @ 12:42 pm

    @liamascorcaigh,
    I thank you for the feedback, and would be genuinely interested in seeing a link to your positive definition of “short story”.

  13. B-Daddy
    February 3rd, 2010 @ 7:52 am

    Smitty, your point is taken. I like the story I linked better, but that is because it is part of a larger and greater tale. I sense that you agree.

  14. B-Daddy
    February 3rd, 2010 @ 2:52 am

    Smitty, your point is taken. I like the story I linked better, but that is because it is part of a larger and greater tale. I sense that you agree.

  15. I R A Darth Aggie
    February 3rd, 2010 @ 2:55 pm

    Kevin’s on track to die single, jaded, & alone.

    We all die alone.

  16. I R A Darth Aggie
    February 3rd, 2010 @ 9:55 am

    Kevin’s on track to die single, jaded, & alone.

    We all die alone.