The reason that this story is being published is that my friend Danny said he would give me a pouch of Big League Chew.
I thought to myself, “seriously?” I hadn’t had big league chew since I was like eight years old and it undoubtedly one of the best damn experiences of my life. There was no way you could just take a small portion out of the pouch. You had to take the whole thing. Look at the package. The guy didn’t have just a little lump of gum in his cheek, his whole face was contorted in the effort to fit the wad of gum in that oral cavity of his.
And why wouldn’t we try that? Look! They were doing real signs! He had a hat! And had some kind of uniform on, albeit possibly delivery men uniform’s, but that didn’t matter to us. We needed as much gum in our mouth as possible.
After little league practice and afternoon baseball games the stores made sure they had extra employees working. The employees knew to be wearing appropriate work attire and the stores provided the workers in the trenches with cheap military surplus gear or catching equipment.
There was no way to know who was getting proper payment, some days the mass of boys wanting gum won the war, other days the stores could haven taken in more money than they should have. It was impossible to know, trying to count the money for pouches of gum would have landed teeth and finger nails in delicate areas.
After thinking about all of this I pondered deeply to myself for several days.
I thought about what a terrible, useless, jumble of words Danny wanted me to assemble for him. I cringed. I thought about throwing them away completely and coming up with something similar to his topic, I cringed that my words could be that mind numbing, refreshing myself of how terrible my own writing can be. My mind was on the verge on cracking. Then the Big League Chew logo came back into view, I was invigorated, I had energy! I stood up and dashed toward the computer, I thought about his words and I passed out.
I was in some sort of a stress induced hallucinatory stupor, fragments of sentences describing events that didn’t need to be described in the first place being described so poorly, then a flicker of Big League Chew, then a run on sentence and I woke up.
I called Danny.
I told him that a pouch of Big League Chew wasn’t going to cut it.
I would need a pouch of Big League Chew and a Ring Pop.
So… As Per request of Danny, with minor to major edits in spots-
Dude Talk-
Three dudes were sitting in a Chinese buffet in a plaza of a small town. One of them had what appeared to be bruises up and down his neck, but to anyone that wasn’t a big stupid dumb idiot knew darn well they were hickies. It was about 1:30 in the afternoon, it looked like that they had just got up, but who was I just judge. I always looked like I had just got up, maybe it was because I never went to bed. No one really paid attention to me anymore, no one could tell the difference if I was a dude or a chick anymore anyway. It didn’t matter anymore because I didn’t care, anymore. Strangely, I was fascinated in their conversation.
The first conversation I could clearly make out was how trading twenty eight chickens and thirteen donkeys was a better system than trading things for money because in that system you get what you really want for things. I thought to myself, man these dudes are sharp.
Dude Talk- $29.99 a month
As always the topic becomes females and dudes have endless knowledge about them. That’s why around the world, if you look and study the charts, graphs and numbers there are no other group of people that are doing better than dudes at dating, marrying or striking out with chicks. It’s a fact. It’s actually a fun fact.
The dude with the bruises on his neck (or hickies if you’re hip) commenced to communicate with his friends, “so my girl and I started fighting the other night, I told her if she didn’t grow up she could call me when she came in off the playground yo. And I hung up.” His two friends seemed to totally be supportive of this course of action and when bruise boy went to get another plate of food the two friends turned to each other and said, “what a dumb ass!”
This made me nearly spit out my hot tea.
They turned around to look at me, and I gave them the creepiest girly guy smile I could muster and instead of me being embarrassed they were instantly and unsure why, but brilliantly embarrassed for looking at the he she. The spun so hard in their chairs that they squeaked. I was extra pleased now.
They purposely muffled their voices now, it mattered little as i turned up my creepydometer.
Dude 1-“I don’t know why Graham would tell Belle that, he’s such an idiot, he’s lucky she even listens to his stupid ass ideas, not to mention goes within five to ten inches of that mouth of his without bringing attention his great halitosis.”
Dude 2- “Graham would need a sign from good to notice that he has a flaw. Then he probably would only think it was God being sarcastically funny. He’s such an ass hole.”
Dude 1- “That’s why he has the girlfriend.”
Graham- “What are you two dweebs talking about?”
Dudes- “See that lady, uh dude over there? DON’T LOOK!”
Graham- “Then how am I supposed to know!?”
Dudes- “Go get a drink.”
Graham- “K.”
Graham walks by and I give him the cutest girly guy smile I could pull off, it was gold in my mind. I can see he was visibly shocked by the look in his eyes. I again try not to spit up my hot tea. (Why am I always drinking hot tea?) Graham came back to the table.
Graham- “What the hell is that?”
Dudes- “We don’t know!? … While you’ve been gone, we’ve been thinking, you’re always talking about how you aren’t afraid of shit. And are willing to do things that make most people really nervous… Anyway, we think you should go talk to her or him. Find out his.. or um her name.”
Graham- “Dude, you got to be shitting me.”
Dude 1- “Come on man, what a story for when we get back to school in a few hours.”
Graham- “Alright, fuck it.”
I was prepared.
I was excited.
I was calm as a bomb.
Graham looked at me, I smiled, he smiled cautiously, I smiled bigger. I kicked out the chair across from me. Sit. I said. He did.
Before anything was said I asked, in the best unisex voice I could ever imagine, “Could I guess your name?”
Graham shrugged, looked over his shoulder at his friends who were in between looking concerned and dying from laughter. They gathered themselves and nodded support to their comrade in the trenches.
Graham looked back and said “sure.”
“Ok. Don’t give me any hits, hmmm, does it start with a Gggggg?”
“Yes.”
“DAMN IT I SAID DON’T GIVE ME ANY HINTS!”
The place went silent.
I stood up and said “FREE HOT TEA ON ME!”
That got the place jumping.
Sheepishly Graham muttered, “sorry.”
“It’s ok, I play guessing games very seriously, I suppose I play most games very seriously, I don’t like to lose. Now, back to your name. It’s nothing like Greg or George or Germano or Gaspar right? DON’T SAY ANYTHING!”
Graham looks back at his friends who at this point are actually starting to look slightly genuinely worried.
Graham fixes his gaze back on me with a look that seems to say please be kind.
Finally I come out with it. “Graham!”
“Wow! How did you?” Mouth open…
“Simple. It’s on your shirt.”
He looks down. It’s not on his shirt.
He laughs.
I don’t.
“So, Graham. Do you have a girlfriend named Belle?”
Graham went white. “Yes.”
“Have you met her parents?”
Graham regained a little of his composure and said “no.”
“Do you know their names?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Interesting” I said.
I didn’t say anything for fifteen seconds, yes I counted them.
“Can, I go sit with my friends friends now?” He squeaked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know my name first?”
“Sure.”
“It’s Danny and you can spell that anyway you want. Danni, Danny, Dany, Dan-E, whatever is good for you. Just make sure when you talk to Belle make sure you tell her we spoke.”
“O.O.O.ooooo.k.?”
“Actually, sit back down.”
“Ok.”
“Call her now.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes.”
He picked up his cell from the table which he immediately dropped on the floor. He picked it back up. He steadied himself and made another attempt at the call.
“Hey, I’m good, but babe, just, hold on, one second. Belle, do you know someone named Danny?”
I stuck out my hand. I took the phone.
“Hello, HONEY!”
Graham knocked over all the hot tea on his pants.
Dude TALK!