Work withUS!

Renaissance Urban Sportsman: You know, I’m just going to assume nothing has changed in your life unless you say otherwise.
Working Boy: That’s probably a good idea.
R.U.S: So.
W.B: So.
R.U.S: I hear you’ve joined a book club.
W.B: Oh yeah, we had our first meeting last night. It’s for the networking.
R.U.S: That sounds nice.
W.B: They served cupcakes at the first meeting.
R.U.S: How were they?
W.B: I didn’t have one. For some reason I can’t eat cupcakes anymore. I just don’t feel up to it.
R.U.S: Are there any girls there?
W.B: Oh yeah, married mostly.
R.U.S: I see. In that case, I don’t suppose I’ll be going with you any time soon.
W.B: Probably for the best. You’ve got an image to uphold and all.
R.U.S: So, what are you reading?
W.B: I don’t want to talk about it.
R.U.S: Oh let me guess…Hornsby? Eggers? Something with a stiletto heal on the cover?
W.B: I said I don’t want to talk about it!
R.U.S: Well what do you want to talk about?
W.B: Let’s see. Oh! I bought a big fuzzy sweater the other day.
R.U.S: That’s certainly warranted airing.
W.B: It’s red with flecks of blue in it. Very stylish.
R.U.S: Listen, W.B., shouldn’t you, you know, be getting out more. People are beginning to talk.
W.B: Who?! I want names!
R.U.S: Now calm down. It’s just that your friends are worried about you.
W.B: I don’t have any friends like that.
R.U.S: Acquaintances then.
W.B: Do you mean the mailman? I thought we were on pretty good terms.
R.U.S: I don’t mean the mailman. People are just starting to, you know, wonder about you. Take yesterday for example. Do you remember when you spilled that glass of whiskey all over your computer?
W.B: Um…no.
R.U.S: Really? Well, I guess you were pretty drunk.
W.B: I thought I quit drinking. You know, until the storm passes.
R.U.S: Quit drinking? You’ve been drinking a bottle of whiskey everyday for about a month now.
W.B: What? Impossible! Where are the empty bottles? The glorious drunken memories?
R.U.S: Oh my, I can’t believe I’m the one who has to tell you this. W.B., you get up every morning at 6. Have between 8 and 10 cupcakes and then go to the liquor store and buy a bottle. Then you drink it. Then you throw the bottle into the construction site next door and pass out until the next morning and do it all over again.
W.B: Really? Well that certainly does explain the dream I’ve been having a lot lately.
R.U.S: You mean the one where you walk to the liquor at night and buy a bottle of whiskey?
W.B: How did you know?
R.U.S: Because you “sleep walk” there every night at 7.
W.B: I see. And the part where I laugh it up with the liquor store man and we make plans to go fishing in the Northwoods?
R.U.S: Yeah, that’s actually a dream. You mostly just put crumbled bills at the register and then ask to use the bathroom.
W.B: Do they let me use the bathroom?
R.U.S: Not anymore. You, um, did some pretty bad stuff in there a couple of days ago.
W.B: Huh. And all this time I just thought I was going through whiskey withdrawal.
R.U.S: Nope. Just your basic massive hangover.
W.B: You’re blowing my mind right now, R.U.S. Wait. Am I drunk right now?
R.U.S: Oh yeah. And since we’re on the subject. That sweater you’re so proud of.
W.B: You mean this one.
R.U.S: Yeah. It’s a dead squirrel. You found last night on your way back from the liquor store.
W.B: Eww.

R.U.S. You might want to stop trying to iron out the wrinkles.