Imagined Scenarios of How My Life Will Go if You Dump Me
I sell my things and move to the shore. I learn to surf incredibly well and get really tan. Women flock to me, the other surfers are afraid of me. Eventually, I meet a girl with a Reef ass who is a better surfer than I am. She teaches me the spirit of the ocean and the ghosts of the waves. We fall passionately in love as she challenges me each and every day. One day she comes to me in our modest bungalow and tells me she is carrying my child. We have a boy and name him Dakuwanga, after the Fijian Shark God. He becomes the greatest surfer who will ever live.
You take me back after I threaten to throw myself off the overpass near your house. We fall back into the same old arguments that remind us of our horrible relationship. You eventually get fed up and dump me again after I come home one night extremely drunk and high on mescaline. You move to Colorado to do some “save the Earth” stuff and I stick around here to work on my music. I get a few gigs at this-guy-I-know’s pub, and make a few bucks. Eventually I am doing street music on the corner downtown, and so that’s going pretty well for me. Also, I have a fantastic beard and hardly ever wear a shirt.
I get into a fight at a local sports bar after State loses the playoffs. A fight coördinator sees me take down a guy twice my size and wants to book me for an expo in two weeks. I’ve got nothing to lose, so I go for it. The training I undergo in those two weeks is excruciating, yet shapes me into an awesome fighting machine. My trainer, a tiger named Raja, follows my every move and threatens me with her knife-sized incisors at every false step. Nonetheless, I am well prepared. The fight happens and I knock the guy out in the first round by double-roundhouse kicking him followed by an axe punch to the solar plexus. He goes down like a heap of sausage, and I raise my fists to the audience’s cheers. You are in the crowd and you push off the slick-suit guy you are with and his cigar falls out of his mouth because he is so in shock. You run into the ring and embrace me; sweat everywhere. “Let’s get married,” I say. You smile and say “Oh hell yeah.”
I die of a broken heart. My soul goes up to Heaven, where my Grandma and my old dog Pluto are there waving and clapping. When I get through the gates, Paul Newman gives me a high five and slow motiony points me toward the buffet. The clouds make everything misty and white, and all the angels are very pretty naked girls. Everyone else is wearing these bluish robes and they are all smiling. At the welcome dinner buffet, I see all the people I ever wanted to meet: Kurt Vonnegut, James Brown, Albert Camus, Janis Joplin, Shannon Hoon, and my uncle Steve, who supposedly always had the best weed. At dinner, Jesus comes over and hangs out for a bit. He ends up being a really funny guy. Afterward, Jimi Hendrix, Heath Ledger and I go have drinks at the pool with some of the angels. We get wasted and the modelesque seraphs make out with us and each other. Somehow we all end up in the hot tub together and things get a little crazy for the rest of eternity.
After a short, but emotional heartbreak stage, I eventually get on with my life and start to get out there again. I start working out from time to time, and that becomes a regular thing, so I start to feel pretty good about the way I look. I work hard and get a promotion, and take some business trips overseas. After an extended layover in Tokyo, I meet a girl in the airport who strikes up a conversation with me in the food court. I buy her a drink at the bar before it closes and we both end up missing our flight. We get a hotel room overlooking downtown Tokyo and make love on top of the sheets with pink neon illuminating the window. She falls asleep on my chest and smiles in her sleep. We make slow, careful love in the morning before our rescheduled flight. We keep in touch, and she eventually moves to my area and into my apartment, and we get a Corgi puppy. We name him Radar because it’s a palindrome. We get older and decide to have kids, who end up being really great and we take them to theme parks and point out how we are better than most of the people there. I run into you and you husband, Michael at a function in Virginia, I introduce you to my wife, who is far prettier than you. I am also taller than Michael.
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Tokyo Drifter (combo of #1 and #5). Very Funny stories.
Fantastic — well done Jeremy.