Blackhumouristpress's Blog

October 16, 2012

Between Auckland and Oakland or Why Get Married?

Filed under: Detroit,humor,obama,Oprah,Short Story — blackhumouristpress @ 6:33 am
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Uncle Boog sat at the bar waiting for his nephew, the youngest son of his older sister.  Boog was a drill sergeant in the Army who after five tours of duty, was sent to North Carolina to whip future recruits into soldiers.  Boog sat watching the debate between Mitt Romney and President Obama with aviator shades on, uniform and drill sergeant hat.  People in the establishment looked at the bizarre character and wondered who he was and why he was there.  Boog was waiting for his nephew.  The youngest son of his older sister.  I think I mentioned that already.

Boogard went by the name Boog because Clarence was just not tough enough and so, since the age of six, Clarence was called Boog.  If you want a fight with a tough man, call Boog by his birth given name.

Joe walked in to see his uncle starring intently at the television.  Joe patted Boog on the back.  Boog turned quickly and grabbed the wrist of his nephew and twisted it.  Upon recognizing his nephew, he released his hand and pulled a stool out for him to sit.  Boog slid an envelope with $1,000.00 in it to Joe and explained that he could not bring himself to attend his wedding but wanted to give him a boost in the form of money instead of a gift.

“Your mom mentioned a registry…  I had never heard of a registry.  I came to find out you picked all your stuff at Crate and Barrel.  I stood in line with a list of stuff that your girl picked out behind two queers that wanted to return a Dutch oven.  I suddenly looked around and noticed all the people in the place were queer.  Messy fucking hair like rodents ran around on top of their heads, horn-rimmed glasses and tight pants.  A man should sound like a man even if he fancies another man.  You were born a man, act like a man.”

The bartender brought an orange colored beer to Joe as Boog drank a glass of red wine.  Joe laughed at the hard man drinking red wine.  For as macho as Boog was, holding a glass daintily, swirling the glass and sniffing it seemed almost surreal to Joe.

“Wine?  I got hooked on it in Germany.  I was seeing a fraulein who got me on the stuff.  She wanted to marry and have me take over her father’s farm near Bavaria.  I’m no marriage material.  I look at people and they think they’re going to be happy legally chaining themselves together until they realize that guys are lazy and chicks are borderline nuts at any given time.  You got a guy getting fat and soft, watching athletes in their prime going at it like gladiators for their enjoyment which detracts from their boring lives.  Getting fat and soft in a lazy-boy and the old lady is disenchanted with the fact that he doesn’t want to do nothing or go anywhere.  She gets upset and eats, he gets tired and eats.  They have less sex and then it becomes nearly impossible for him to have sex so he gets Viagra so that he can have sex again after getting a membership to a gym.  He’ll put his fat ass on a treadmill and walk for a few weeks and get despondent over the fact that he still looks like a sack of shit.  So he says fuck it…  I’m going to have wings and beer and watch sports and she can just go fuck herself.  Well she’s not fucking herself.  She goes out and gets in shape.  She sees that Oprah ran a marathon and so she does a 5k then a 10k and has confidence to go out and have a chocolate-tini with her less than satisfied suburban soccer mom friends who are also angry about their less than favorable marriages that has come way under there vision and expectations that go back to the days when Ken and Barbie met and married in their bedrooms on rainy days…  I’m not trying to dissuade you.  You might be just fine.”

Boog ordered another Carmenere that cost $12.00 a glass.  He studied the bottle and decided that if he got the chance, he would have to visit Chile.  He had admired Pinochet and the days when the CIA could depose a head of state and prop up a puppet for national interest.  Boog hated the way the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq were handled.  Boog was part of the group that had to replace the crew at Abu Graib.  One of the female American soldiers was caught trying to sexually service the inmates that were trying to kill her.  Boog hated people.  Discovering something so perverse just solidified his ill view of humanity.

“So he’s getting out of shape and she’s running races and before you know it, some dude at a bar from New Zealand is buying her drinks and talking about how wholesome his life was raising fucking sheep in a town near Auckland.  She loves his accent and doesn’t care that his wife misunderstands him and that he lives in Oakland.  She doesn’t know the difference between Oakland and Auckland and that New Zealand is not Australia and that the suave motherfucker with the Geico accent is hoping to land her like an aircraft on autopilot.  Her old man is watching Rutgers playing some fucking school you never heard of or ever considered going to at home in a chair and the Kiwi is trying to sell her cock and his cleaning products that he peddles for a living all at the same time.  She never questions why he is living in Detroit if New Zealand is paradise and why he walked away from a million acres of land looking over the Pacific Ocean.  He came to America to sell industrial cleaning supplies while looking at the Detroit River?  My advice to you, son is to stay off the lazy boy.  You may have to go to Ikea and take Salsa Dancing lessons.  You have to try to follow the vision she has in her head of what marriage is supposed to be.  After you spawn a few kids, her attention will turn to the kids.  You then dedicate your lives to raising a spoiled little fuck that will sass you and claim you ruined their lives one day while sitting at a bar talking to someone.  Who do you know that doesn’t hate their parents or feel their parents came up woefully short?  We all have expectations of things and how they should be.  We feel short changed and then go and watch sports or drink in lounges like this one.  I married and I shouldn’t have.  I took this bad job and really I have always wanted to be a nude scientist or what have you.  We work until we aren’t functional and then we get senior discounts for shit just for living long enough to not be worth anything to people younger than us.  We then gloss over days gone by and how things were so much better and how the youth are going to kill this country…  You look at these two assholes wanting to be president of this country and for what?  So they can be on a coin or dollar bill some day?  So fat children can have the day off from school to sit cooped up in an apartment and watch television and eat partially hydrogenated shit causes it’s too dangerous to go outside and celebrate that old dead president’s life…  So where you going for your honeymoon?”

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