As recalled by my friend, the "International Slash American Man of Mystery," as the ladies (okay, more like a singular lady at a party in Boston) call him; or Tin Man (as I affectionately call him).
The scene:
Tin Man stands huddled in a bathroom stall, custom suit and perfect side part masking his internal chaos; feverishly pushing buttons on his mobile, keeping one ear cocked for an intruder.
The phone rings twice.
Tin Man: Hey man, I have a question for you.
Friend: DUDE, why are you whispering?!
Tin Man: Shhh!! I'm in the bathroom, okay. At an interview. Listen, here's my question: A friend takes credit for something that was your idea. Do you a) Let it go, b) Talk to your friend and let them know how much it upset you, mutually resolving to never let it happen again c) Yell at your friend for betraying your trust or d) punch him in the face
Friend: Oh my fucking god. You're asking me to help you cheat on your personality test, aren't you?
Tin Man: Listen MANNN, I didn't sign up for this shit, just tell me the answer.
Friend: It's B, dick.
Tin Man: Later.
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1 comment:
What, no, forcing your friend to take opposite sex hormones? What kind of fund is this!
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