Johnnie F’s Soliloquy from “Song of the Second Shift”

Johnnie F: I’d love to tell you about the women. My women. That is, the women that are kind enough to sleep with me. Or cruel enough, anyway.

But I’m not interested in the women. Because I’m a drunk. And who wants to hear what a drunk has to say?

Now, a drunken skirt chaser? That’s the kind of self confidence that we’d all like to dabble in. I, however, like the rest of you, have only dabbled in the fantasy. And I’m lying. I’m not even Johnnie F. Except that I am.

But what does that matter? Because there have been many, many women. At first, it was just a contest with myself. To see if I could do it. Hell, I was 21 when I had my first. But then there seemed to be a streak. I’ve been hoping it would end for some time now. But I seem to keep having the luck. The luck or the skill, I’m not sure which.

And what bothers me about it is I wonder: who’s taking advantage of whom? Am I being exploited? By them? By society? Because, let’s be honest, I hardly ever enjoy the actual climax. No, it’s definitely the chase for me that’s important. I get off on it. Or at least, I think I do.

Women can’t help it. They’re drawn to my ‘creativity’. Truth is, I’m not all that creative. I haven’t written a story in years. And yet, based on my past record and the contacts I’ve made, they all think I’m brilliant.

So what is a man to do whose only purpose is, after all, to chase women and money? Money I don’t have, and can’t get anymore. I’ve been dry for years; no one’s buying my stories, no one’s giving me royalties. But the skirts, they keep paying off.

But when I stop enjoying them, what’s a man to do? I suppose I could start writing about them, telling you about my women. But that would just serve to artificially raise this creative block I’ve been having, and to tell you the truth, I don’t lack the integrity not to, if you can understand that. Poopshoot boogie.

The way I see it, the women like the gentle abuses of neglect and inattention. The minute you’re nice to a woman and focused completely on her, that’s when she’ll give up and stop loving you. Not that a woman has ever actually loved me, if one did I’d put a ring on her finger in a second.

A woman without that edge of insult from her man is like a nut without salt on it. Like a cake without frosting. Better yet, like white bread that someone tells you is a cake. Legs don’t part without a little command and control.

Don’t get me wrong, that doesn’t mean I’m in favor of it. I believe, somewhere deep in my heart that I can’t find, that women are just as smart and able as men. It’s just that when it comes to my dealings with them, I can’t act that way. Because all their lives most women have been told that they’re not equal to men, and women, just like all humans, love to believe what they’ve been told all these years. Otherwise the struggle won’t be worth it. Better yet there will be no struggle, there will only be boredom.

And when it comes to women, I’m always on. Which means I have to be anything except boring. Even if I’m silent, or pensive, that gives them the impression that they’re somehow being insulted. It gives them whatever impression they’re looking for. But overall, when you’re being silent, it’s most important that you don’t look incompetent. Look lost in thought, look deep, look off into the distance. But don’t look tired. And don’t look disinterested entirely. Women need to know that you’re interested in something, especially if it’s not them.

And when you’re done with that; be honest with them. Let them know that you need them. Let them know that this has all been a farce; that your whole life is a farce when their companionship is absent–because after all it’s the truth. This whole charade has been carried out for their benefit. But you have to let them in behind the curtain just enough that the red velvet is on their thigh. Then you move in for the kill.

And that, my friends, is how you rack up the points. Whether or not you want the act, the points are what will count when you’re telling your life story. And right now, that’s what I’m doing. And if you want more, I’ll be back tomorrow. And if you don’t, I’ll know. I can convince you that I know, at least. So there’s that.

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Published in: on March 15, 2010 at 1:41 am  Comments (1)  

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  1. […] the hoveround, and there’s no way we’re gonna be able to get this Christmas stocking to little Johnnie F in Teaneck if that […]


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