love letters from my 34th summer

Check out those guns, and I’m not talking about the one I’m holding.

The other day as I was sitting on my couch looking for the remote, I realized the exercise of pivoting my head from the left to the right had caused me to be short of breath. It was then I decided a couple of things.

1. I’m going to quit smoking this year. I’ll keep quitting until I actually quit, really. I’ll quit everyday.

2. I need to start running again. I think I am as large as I have ever been. And that is large. And I don’t feel good about it either. Like, I’m not a happy fat person. In other words, I am fat but not jolly…which is surely some type of metaphysical injustice.

So since the other day, I have quit smoking at least four times. The longest I have made it without smoking is 41 hours, which is pretty good. But, I was so irritable I found myself going to fast food drive-thrus (note the fast food spelling of through) and trying to pick fights.

KFC told me they didn’t have sweet tea, which I knew to be a damn lie. A restaurant frequented by fat southerners such as myself allows itself to run out of sweet tea? Not likely. Something in all that was fishy, and I said as much. This is how I remember it going down:

Doom: “And I need a medium (note the restraint) sweet tea.”

KFC Drive-thru voice: “I’m sorry but we are out of sweet tea. Would you like a Coke?”

Doom (who hadn’t inhaled sweet, sweet nicotine in a day-and-a-half): “I’ll wait while you sweeten the unsweet tea.”

KFC: “I’m sorry, but we can’t do that. Would you like a Sprite?”

Doom: “Can’t or won’t? Had I wanted a Sprite, I would have ordered it, and doubtlessly you would have told me you were out of that too. I am not playing games here. I see the game of intrigue and deception you are playing, KFC voice, and I find myself tempted, even now to drive up and speak to you about this matter face-to-face.”

KFC: “But I haven’t given you the total. Hold on for a total.”

Doom: “If you think I will be bound by your ancient drive-thru etiquette and superstition, then you are even thicker than I would have judged you for.”

KFC: “Pull forward.”

(I pull forward only to find a man or a woman dressed in KFC attire, still can’t be sure as to the gender, wielding a spork in a menacing way)

KFC: “Be rude again, and you will die from repeated stabs to the chest via the spork that now points at your heart.”

Doom: (Paying my money, and carefully taking my food from the KFC Voice) “Perhaps I was a bit hasty in my judgements and my speech.”

KFC: (handing me a Sprite) It’s ok, have a nice night.

Doom: (looking coldly into the KFC Voice’s eyes and emptying the Sprite onto the ground) “If I knew for certain that you were man, I would challenge you to a round of fistacuffs near the dumpster. But since science still has limitations, and your gender…nay species won’t be determined any time soon, I’ll leave you with an admonishment. Bojangles never runs out of tea. Sweet or otherwise. Now, I bid you goodnight.” (Driving away while feeling in my ashtray for a longerish ciggarette butt)

Well I may have imbellished the dialogue a little bit, but this is about how I remember the whole thing going down.