You Say “Stalker”; I Say “Devotee”

[A telephone conversation between myself and Douglas.]

Me: “Hey, can you take off September 25? The Bloggess is doing a book signing in Houston that day.”

Douglas: “The who?”

Me: “Remember that video about the art of being furiously happy? The one that started with a Zombie Apocalypse drill?”

Douglas: “Vaguely.”

Me: “That’s the Bloggess. And we need to go meet her.”

Douglas: “We’ll see. September’s a long ways away, and what with work and going back to school and all, I really can’t agree to any commitments that far out.”

Me: “No worries. Even if you can’t get the day off, you’re going to be really sick and will have to call in anyway.”

Douglas: “I see.”

Me: “Or, someone who isn’t me will hit you in the shin with a crowbar. And you can’t go to work if you can’t walk.”

Douglas: “Plus I’ll be in a wheelchair, so they’ll feel sorry for me and let us through first.”

Me: “Exactly. We just need to find you an emotional support animal to complete the illusion.”

Douglas: “Shit. You’re serious.”

Me: “Deadly. So what we’re going to do is show up at the bookstore when it opens, buy copies of the book and get our place numbers, and then go have lunch and see a movie or something. Then we’ll go back to the store for the reading, and when it’s time for the signing, we’ll be first in line. I have thought. This. Through.”

Douglas: “You have thought about this too much.”

Me: “I have thought about this just enough.”

Douglas: “Can’t we wait until closer to the actual date to worry about any of this?”

Me: “No. This has to happen, because I missed the opportunity to hang out with her before she got famous. And you have to go, because you know I’m not mature enough to attend an event like this without supervision.”

Douglas: “Oh, trust. I know.”

Me: “And also I have a gift for her.”

Douglas: “Of course you do.”

Me: “Do you know what a baculum is?”

Douglas: “Do I want to?”

Me: “Okay, see, some animals have a bone in their penis, and that bone is called a baculum.”

Douglas: “…”

Me: “I know, right? So back in 2010 she was on vacation in Miami, and she wrote about visiting a shop that sold raccoon penis bones. I posted a comment about having one…”

Douglas: “You have a raccoon penis bone.”

Me: “Focus, dude. I posted a comment, which she selected as her Comment of the Day, and then she tweeted about it. So I need to give her the penis bone to show my gratitude.”

Douglas: “And you… think she will appreciate that?”

Me: “Of course she will! She collects taxidermy, and people send her weird shit all the time. And I was her Comment of the Day two other times, so it’s only fair that I do something nice for her in return.”

Douglas: “This is a horrible plan, and I strongly recommend that you not give penis bones to anyone you’re obviously stalking.”

Me: “I WILL GIVE HER THAT PENIS BONE IF I HAVE TO THROW IT AT HER WHILE THEY ARE DRAGGING ME FROM THE BUILDING.”

Everyone Else in Marshalls: “…”

It was at this point that Douglas called me insane, which is pretty ironic coming from a guy who thinks that mucus is Nature’s way of preventing alien abductions, whereas all I’m trying to do is hand a piece of racoon genitalia to a bestselling author. Because I respect her talent, Douglas. Some of us clearly have a lot to learn about the Arts.

5 thoughts on “You Say “Stalker”; I Say “Devotee”

  1. The emotional support animal IS going to be something killed by accident and then taxidermied into a position not found in nature, right? RIGHT????

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