so my amazingly talented friend was the MC at a show for first person arts
first person arts is one of the competing word mafias here in the city
in this event they give you five minutes and a topic
then they draw names out of a hat
and a good time is had by all
this weeks topic was cohabitation
i was primed
doomed cohabitation is my specialty
i got there early because it gets crowded
my ex lovely found the next available best seats in the house and ordered up some cocktails
we interacted with our tablemates
they who ordered steak
saying
you gotta problem with that?
i said im vegan
he said so what
and a good chuckle was enjoyed by many

i saw our hosts
and went over to pay my respects
when you are at a word mafia function
you must show da proper respect
capiche'?

the lovely hostess headed to the restroom and i followed
the boys room was closed
and i decided to post up there
even though i knew she was fixing her face and nervous
it took a few

i finally get in annd do some business and hit my little wooden box of magic a few times
leaning out the window to exhale
enjoying the very fine juicy fruit
perfection was approaching
i had a few clever phrases about cohabitation percolating in my brain
if they called my name i was ready
if my ex lover kissed me i was ready
magic should be ensuing soon
i get back to may table and my chair has been pushed towrds the stage to make room for another
it was cramped before
but now over cramped
being as there was a spreadeagled six two balding hippie wanna be there with his blonde wife on his lap
it was eight grade all over again
me and rhonda schaeffer in the hallways between classes
me grinding for more room
forcing her legs apart
in puppy love and rubbing against things that felt oh so good

at fifty seven i hope i find someone to grind
im not hating on that

im hating on it happening two inches from my chair
as if i am the next link in thier next aging swinger video
coming to a porn store near you
see what happens when two wrinkled dirtbags violate your personal space at a club

it was beyond rude
kinda puky even
i was way beyond skeeved
but this was a word mafia function
and im a diplomat
i know the hosts and love them
the proper response was thus unavailable to me

i tried tact

i stood behind my chair
way too close to the love connection
i reached over my chair and said
howd my beer get way down here?
no response

my ex-chick says heres your seat here
indicating one stool away from the wall
in the aging hippies business
not my original seat
i m old school
always sit with your back to the wall
never mix your whiskey with anything but water
and never play poker with anyone named after a city or called "doc"

he was even older school and not budging
my ex chiquita
wonders why i wont sit in their lap
i say
loudly this time
its ok ILL JUST STAND
and i lean against the wall sipping my beer

ex-broad wants me to sit down and is agitated for her own reasons with these two
her interactions also less than positive
as she fought them for what was left of our seating
after i had the audacity to go potty
she asks why i dont sit and i say i dont like people that close behind me
maybe they were deaf
i dont know
odd choice of entertainment for a deaf couple
she offers her seat
which would put her in the porno
and i decline and leave before i forget my manners
i find a nice seat on the stage where i can still sort of spend time with my ex
visual time is better than none at all i reason
so i miss out on some chit chat
its still better than being bronwyn-less for the evening
i also can shoot some meaningful glares over her shoulder at the love clowns behind her
yeah
its all working out but the words in my head are changing from playful and clever to angry vindictive prose
my cute cohabitational stories dance away from the front of my mind
now cohabitation is conditioning
you are your parents when you move in together
you take their lessons with you
and if your parents are the kind of rich fuck assholes who come to shows late and take peoples seats then i could never love a bitch like you
poor home training pure and simple
my editing and anger are interrupted by a familiar face
is jess coming by asks the familiar faced stranger?
she called me, but they couldnt park and decided to bag it i reply
he shakes my hand somewhere along the way and hes some dude from the fictionslam
he asks if im performing
i say yeas and speak to the evolving thoughts in my head
how my cute stories were turning to an indictment
an indictment of the entitled
that i was gonna stick it to the man
skewer the entitled fuck
that i was serving papers on rich fuck asshole douchebag entitled rude motherfuckers instead of punching someone in the mouth
like i should
and could
and have in the past done
that im civilized
oh so civilized
im growing into a citizen and shit

and he says who?

i describe the wardrobe and point
he tells me to chill that out
thats his mom and her second husband
i say well
you will understand why i cant ever fuck you now
it would never work out
with our alien upbringings
his folks worldview being poison to my species and all
then i apologized for what i was going to say about his mom onstage
and he said whatever dude
and left quickly

the hostess wonders about my seating just before the show and i give her a broad view
my exgal pal adds her details to the story
about their constant plotting for my seat in my absense
asking her over and over about my seat
seat vultures she called them
so shes seething
im seething
the show begins
im liking the light tones of the stories
but troubled by the audience reaction
the looks on their faces
the expectation of entertainment
their demand for it
and im less and less inclined to do any entertaining of anyone this evening

im not a jester

im not putting on a little show
so THEY can comment on the angry dude
on the way home in their beemer
did he mean us honey?
no that was some other rude entitled rich fuck douchebags sweetums
we are in the sierra club
we recycle
he musta meant someone else