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| "AMERICA'S FUNNIEST HUMOR"TM
SHOWCASE
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April / May 2006 Contest Results |
Chatterbox? Not
Me!
By
Ken Bobrosky, Bahamas
I am not much of a
talker. In fact, I prefer head nods or minuscule smiles to extended
chatter. When we are at social gatherings my wife often traces the
letter “T” surreptitiously on my leg with her finger, as a sign that I
should participate in the conversation. “T” means ‘talk’ or risk
imminent castration.
Basically, I don’t believe that I have any enthralling stories to tell.
Consequently, I have decided to reinvent myself with a more interesting
persona. When asked what I do for a living, I now often casually respond
that I am a shepherd. The stunned silence that ensues, either allows me
to slip away or my questioner to retreat to the bathroom. I am not sure
if he is responding to the lunacy of my response or a reaction to the
shepherd imagery from Brokeback Mountain.
Sometimes I claim to be a scientist searching for weapons of mass
destruction. I do have a degree in Chemistry and can toss out a lot of
fake terms like polyphenocarbinol or explosonitrictoxins. Within a few
seconds my impressed audience will change the topic of conversation to
their favorite American Idol candidate and I can slip out of the
spotlight.
My greatest fear is being stuck at a dinner table with strangers and
forced to indulge in small talk. I pretend to swallow a pill before the
meal and quietly disclose that I take anti-malarial pills to prevent
convulsions. I assure the two socialites sitting on either side of me,
that if I do faint, they should just administer mouth-to-mouth. I also
let it slip that I have a number of unidentifiable African intestinal
maladies just before I fake a small sneeze into my napkin. Somehow their
chairs simultaneously slide away from me and I am left in blessed
isolation.
Another successful technique to reduce mindless chit chat involves
demonstrating secret agent behavior. Talking quietly into the sleeve of
your jacket as if there was a microphone inside, generally raises
eyebrows. Holding your index finger against the entry to your ear also
purveys a mysterious and sinister effect that quickly stifles dialogue.
It just generates quiet stares and furrowed brows. No one wants to mess
with a wacko!
My wife often tries to draw me into the conversation by saying, “Ken,
tell them about the time you caught the pickpocket on the Metro in
Paris.” I curtly reply, “ I was on the subway in Paris once and caught a
guy trying to pick my pocket.” The look of exasperation on her face is
identical to the look of President Bush’s press secretary trying to
explain another Bush decision or policy
I think that I have finally discovered the perfect rationale to allow me
to remain silent and not have to generate inane small talk. I am going
to insist that my wife tell everyone that I have taken a vow of silence,
in protest. I have chosen not to speak until global warming has been
reduced or until world poverty is eliminated Or until I can go to a
party and just enjoy the food and wine and not have to babble like a
Chatty Cathy Doll when someone pulls my cord.
If you pull my cord, you risk hearing me bleat like a sheep!
http://Bahamamama1.blogspot.com
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