San Francisco
Part 34
“How come you wear cheap after-shave, Pop?” I asked as he was about to phone downstairs for champagne.
“I’m not in the business of winning hearts, Daniel. I’ll leave that to you.”
“You’ve won mine. When’s your birthday? I’ll get you some fancy French stuff.”
“Fancy French stuff? Oh… sorry!” he said, realizing that the phone had been answered. “I was talking to someone here in the room. Yes, that’s him… Yes, he is… It’s a habit, I’m afraid. He prefers the suit he was born with. Uh… yes… I’d like to order a bottle of champagne. It’s for a special occasion. Yes, Dom Perignon sounds fine. And don’t worry about Daniel. I’ll get him to put on a pair of shorts before you arrive. Oh, really? OK, I’ll let him know. Oh, and I wonder if we could also have a plate of hors d’oeuvres – smoked salmon, oysters, cheese, that kinda thing. Thank you.”
“What was that about shorts?” I asked as Pop replaced the phone.
“They wanted to know if you were naked again, and I told them you were. But they said not to worry about the shorts.”
“They did? Weird. If I went down to the lobby naked they’d freak. How come people freak about nudity in public?”
“It reminds them of things they’d rather not be reminded of… sex, urinating… and whatever other bodily functions come to mind. Attitudes have changed a lot since we lived in caves, Daniel. This hotel is a perfect example of that. The word is ‘sophisticated’. It means that we’ve become less natural and simple; less naïve. I’ve just ordered champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Would you rather I’d ordered a raw lump of dinosaur and a bucket of water?”
“But people like gawking at me, and I like showing off.”
“There’s a time and place for everything, Daniel. The Inter-Continental lobby is certainly not the place.” Just then there was a knock at the door. “And pleeeeeease don’t do anything outrageous!”
The waiter wheeled his trolley into the room, smiled at me, then placed the champagne, housed in a silver ice bucket, on the table, followed by the hors d’oeuvres. “How come they’re called hors d’oeuvres?” I asked, scratching my crotch, hoping to attract the attention of the waiter to my semi. Yep, it worked.
“There is no English equivalent, sir.”
“He’s right, Daniel. We can’t be calling them munchies or snacks or whatever. It’s not sophisticated enough. So when the English language fails to describe something adequately, we borrow words from other languages; in this case French. Champagne is another example. You said you wanted to celebrate with champagne, not sparkling white wine.”
The waiter proceeded to uncork the bottle. “May I ask what you’re celebrating, gentlemen?”
“My manhood,” I beamed.
“Maybe you should have ordered three bottles,” he smiled, glancing at my semi.
“I met a girl today. Actually, she was a woman. And we…”
“Daniel!”
“It’s OK, Pop. I wasn’t gonna go into all the gory details. Anyway, that’s what we’re celebrating.”
“Congratulations,” the waiter smiled as he half-filled each of the tall crystal champagne flutes. “We never forget our first time. Enjoy the rest of your evening, gentlemen. And if there’s anything else you need, just call.” And with that, he winked at me then left, closing the door behind him.
I grabbed a glass and was about to throw the fizzy contents down my throat when Pop called a halt. “No, no, no, no! This calls for a formal toast!” He raised his glass to mine, touched it with his, causing a soft bell-like ringing sound, and said: “Here’s to my friend, Daniel. While you live may you learn, and learn to be comfortable with who you are. Congratulations.”
“Thanks, Pop.”
Then I checked the hors d’oeuvres. Mmmmm! “So how come the English couldn’t think of a word for these?” I asked before demolishing some black seafoody kinda stuff on a small piece of toasted bread, like a crouton.
“English is a modern language. Its roots are in ancient Latin, Greek, and whatever else, and it borrows from other languages when it needs to. There’s nothing wrong with that. And it keeps evolving. Shakespeare never used the word ‘cool’ to describe anything good. “Hiya, Juliet. Howya doin’?” “Cool, Romeo. Howzit goin’.””
I had to crack at Pop trying to mimick the voices of Romeo and Juliet. “People were weird in those days.”
“Nothing’s changed in that respect.”
“You figure Romeo got naked a lot and paraded his bod around?”
“I don’t think so. Even if he did, Shakespeare would never have written about it.”
“Why not?”
“Maybe he’d never been inspired by a scallywag like you.”
“You think I’m weird?”
“I think you’re wonderful, and you know it, Daniel. Stop fishing for compliments.”
“I like compliments. They rock big time. What’s this stuff?”
“Caviar.”
“Tastes fishy… kinda like an unwashed foreskin.”
“You should contact the caviar company and suggest they print your comment on the label.”
“They might sell a heap more,” I cracked. “Anyway, I’m feeling totally wicked. I can’t wait to tell Paul and Greg and all my other buds about Rose. I’d like to tell my mom as well, but I don’t think she’d understand.”
“I’m sure most boys don’t tell their mothers about their conquests. Will you be telling Kyle?”
“Can’t wait! He’s gonna be soooo proud of me. Woohoo!”
“Not jealous?”
“No fucking way, Pop. Kyle’s not like that. He’s into girls, too, y’know. Anyway, it’ll make us even. I’ve always felt a bit… I dunno… kinda inferior in some ways ‘cause he’d been with a chick already. Hey, I’m getting a boner just thinking about it… and thinking about Kyle as well. He’s about the horniest dude I know.”
“Hornier than you? I can’t imagine that.”
“OK. Maybe the second horniest. He’s pretty proud of his boner. What do you think of mine, Pop?”
“A splendid specimen.”
“Splendid specimen? Ha! What kinda lame lingo is that? Jeez, can you imagine me running around telling everyone I’ve got a splendid specimen? They’d think I was totally weird.”
“Does that mean I’m totally weird?”
“Nope. You’re cool weird. Besides, you’re an old dude, so it’s OK for you to be weird. Hey, you know something? If Kyle was here, I could dip my boner into the champagne and he could lick it off. Maybe even blow some jizz all over the hors d’oeuvres. You wanna lick the champagne off my boner, Pop?”
“Behave, and stop teasing me,” he said as he refilled our glasses with the effervescent liquid.
“Gimme a break! There’s no one else in the room. So who else am I gonna tease? C’mon, Pop, don’t be such a fucking a spoil sport.”
“Besides, you haven’t washed off that woman’s goo yet.”
“Goo?” I cracked. “It’s not goo. I don’t believe you. I’ve got a splendid specimen and she’s got goo. What planet did you come from, Pop?”
“That’s a question that should be directed at you. Mmmm. Smoked ham’s nice.”
“I could wrap a piece around my dick,” I grinned.
“You’re absolutely outrageous. Did you carry on like that with Rose?”
“Nah. She would’ve freaked. She was what you said – sophisticated. Not like the chicks or guys I know. We do totally rad stuff.”
“Like?”
“Y’know,” I began after swallowing some smoked ham and agreeing with Pop that it was wicked, “pissing on the guys, jizzing pizzas, sucking, fucking, rimming… the usual stuff.”
“Aren’t you concerned about being labeled kinky… as in bizarre or perverse?”
“Is that the same as rad? That’s what we call it. Anyway, kinky schminky. I call opera kinky. All those crazy dudes in weird clothes singing stuff you can’t dance to, let alone sing along with, instead of talking to each other. Can you imagine if every time you and I had a convo we sang it instead of speaking? We’d be locked away in a fucking second, Pop. If you don’t believe me, let’s go down to the lobby and try it.”
“You might be right,” the old dude chuckled, then popped a piece of gruyere cheese into his mouth. “I think society approves of deviating from certain norms, provided they’re not sexual norms. Much of society is very hung up about sex. If you deviate from most norms, you’re considered eccentric but not kinky.”
“What’s sex got to do with it?”
“It’s everybody’s business but our own according to many people. Religion has given it a sacred status. If it’s God’s business then it’s the church’s business. And if it’s the church’s business then it’s the law’s business and society’s business. That oversized thing you keep waving all over the place is not your own, my friend. It was given to you to make babies within the confines of marriage.”
“How can people believe that shit?”
“We grow up believing in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and Hans Christian Anderson. We simply swap children’s fairy tales for adult ones as we grow older.”
“You’re spoiling my appetite, Pop. We’re supposed to be celebrating my manhood with champagne and hors d’ouevres, not talking about scary stuff.”
“Scary stuff?” he asked before downing another piece of cheese.
“Yeah. Now you’ve got me thinking that maybe God’s been watching all the stuff I do. It’s a scary thought.”
“What do you think of Kyle?”
“What’s Kyle got to do with it?”
“If you were God and you created Kyle, would you be pleased?”
“Fuck, yeah! Kyle rules! But I’m not God.”
“Do you think God is disappointed with Kyle?”
“No way!”
“Then why should He be disappointed with you?”
“’Cause some folks say the Bible says I shouldn’t be doing what I’m doing.”
“You can interpret the Bible any way you like, Daniel. If there were only one interpretation there’d be only one religion, one truth and one God instead of a world full of bickering factions.”
“You figure God’s cool with what I do?”
“Let your own conscience be the judge of that. Too many cooks spoil the broth, as they say.”
“You mean like too many opinions?”
“Anyway, I’ve been meaning to tell you a secret. Promise never to tell anyone else?”
“Cool.”
Pop filled our glasses again, raised his to mine, then took a sip. “I’m God.”
“Oh, fucking hell, Pop. What kinda crap is that?”
“Seriously. I thought I’d drop in for a while and see how things were going.”
“Oh, yeah? So how come the planet’s still a mess?”
“Rome wasn’t built in a day, Daniel. Besides, I wanted to check on you first.”
“What is this shit, Pop?”
“Oh, I dunno,” he shrugged, then smiled. “Probably too much champagne. But I know that when I doubt myself, I think of you.”
“Me?”
“Absolutely. I figure if you like me, and approve of me, then that’s all I need. Your opinion of me means more to me than anyone else’s.”
“How do you figure that? I think you’re a crazy old dude.”
“Excellent! Let’s drink to that.” Pop raised his glass again and burst into song… totally outa tune, I might add. “For I’m a crazy old du-ude, for I’m a crazy old du-ude, for I’m a crazy old du-uu-uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude…”
“Jeeeeeez, Pop!”
“…and so say all of us!”
“That was painful, bro.”
“I meant what I said.”
“My opinion matters that much to you?”
“I didn’t comment on what you said earlier tonight… about my winning your heart… but it sank in. Believe me, it sank in. Actually the main reason I didn’t comment was because I didn’t know quite how to respond. Maybe the champagne’s doing the talking for me, but I have to say that if I never meet another person like you, Daniel, and I doubt that I ever will, you will have been more than sufficient. I like myself now. I like myself now because you like me. Does that make sense to you?”
“Yeah. People can make you feel good about yourself. Rose did. My ego was at fucking bursting point. To her I was like the most important person in the world tonight.”
“And how do I make you feel?”
“You? C’mon, Pop. You’re the coolest, but I guess I kinda take you for granted sometimes ‘cause you’re always there for me. You’re the crazy old dude who makes me laugh and who cares for me. You can be so fulla shit sometimes, but most of the time you make me feel good about myself… like all that stuff you said about God a few minutes ago.”
“If you’re ever worried about Him watching you, remember the smile you’re seeing on my face right now. He looks just like me, y’know.”
“Yeah, right. But it’s a cool thought, Pop. You wanna gimme a big hug?”Copyright © 2003 All rights reserved. mrbstories
