kethrai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- So you thought I was kidding about New Englanders. Okay, so you thought I was kidding. No, New Englanders truly do not give a shit what you do. Or how you dress or how funny you look, and your politics don't much matter either as long as you don't raise our taxes or beat the shit out of someone for thinking differently from you. Let me illustrate, as finally the perfect Real-Life-of-Kethrai has served up a goodun. As you know, I work in the summers for an outfit called Ghostly Tours. This involves being a tour guide--wearing a long black hooded robe tied at the waist with rope, a pig's ear on a string around my neck, carrying a candle lantern and a kit bag with things like a corpse hand in it, and telling stories..... And usually, after a tour--which is a solid hour's worth of performance on your feet, in case you were wondering-- I don't always climb out of the robe to drive home. And almost every night I have a tour, I stop in a little convenience store on the way home to pick up a pack of cigarettes or a sixpack or whatever the medication of the moment is. I've been waiting, y'all, truly I have. I've been waiting ALL SUMMER to use this line, and I only got my opportunity LAST NIGHT, on the LAST NIGHT OF THE TOUR FOR THE SEASON, after I had bopped into this same convenience store in this getup at least twenty times over the summer. I was waiting in line with my sixpack, and the nice-looking college kid in front of me, already somewhat under the weather, looks me up and down and says "So, are you supposed to be a monk or something?" "No, actually I just got off work," I said. He must have been from away. 9:30 p.m. - 2002-10-31 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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