I would like to take a break from my normal blogging for a very special note to someone.
Earlier this evening, I happened to notice it was a lovely night out. Being the fitness fanatic I am, I did what any athletic-minded person would do: stop shoving food in my fat mouth long enough to take a slow casual walk through a nearby park.
My walk was going very well. I had only tripped twice which, for me, is quite an accomplishment. I was midway through the park when I came upon you.
You were sitting on a bench lighting up a cigarette because nothing goes better with a nice evening than lung cancer. As I neared, I saw you looking at me.
“Hey,” you slurred in my general direction.
I am a relatively friendly person, so I did what any person would do.
“Hi,” I said without breaking stride.
Somehow, you were able to raise your head up again and use your glazed-over eyes to make direct eye contact with me. “Hey,” you garbled again. “Are you going to be in the Olympics?”
Now, I will admit that you had me puzzled here. Having just watched the Olympics, I am fairly certain I do not look like an Olympian of any type. Maybe I could compete in the archery competition or something, but that is about it. In my head, I added up the fact that you clearly thought I look like an athlete and your gaping mouth, glassy eyes and muddled speech to mean one thing: you were super high on something.
Despite this, I knew that social protocol demanded I respond.
“Yeah, sure,” I said as I passed.
This should have ended it, but it did not. As I walked, I heard you shouting.
“YEAH MAN! YOU DO IT! GET THAT GOLD! OOOOOOLYYYYYMPIIICSSSS!”
I had never felt so supported in my life. The only time people yell at me is when they are trying to express negative feelings towards me. No one ever cheers like they are my fan. Even now, I believe that you thought I could make it onto the 2016 Olympic team and win a gold medal in something. That is a lot of belief to have in a complete stranger.
Now I feel bad and I feel like I must come clean to you, Mr. Junkie. I am not going to be in the Olympics. In fact, I will not even try to be in the Olympics. The closest I will get to an Olympic event in my life is running to the microwave when it alerts me that I have warm food to shove down my gullet.
I want to apologize to you. Despite your drug-induced faith in me, I feel that I have betrayed you with this lie. I hope you will forgive me.
I also hope you can get more people to take whatever drug you are on. Sure it will most likely kill a person over time, but it makes me look like a world class athlete. I think that alone makes it a less evil drug than most*.
*Kids, don’t do any type of drug. They are bad for you and make you do things like sit in a park asking strangers stupid questions. Also, you will probably end up looking dirty and stinky.