From an email to my friend Matt on June 7, 2008. I was a high school freshman and Matt had already graduated, but he took an interest in me because "I get bored easily. I'm also fairly ego-centric and I enjoy the idea that I'm effecting the future of humanity in a horrible way by influencing you." He had just shared a funny story about himself and now it was my turn. I thought it was lame, but he said, "Okay, you're way too hard on yourself, because that was hysterical... Everyone's been there. Good story."
The Coughing Man
By C. Randall Nicholson
I've been trying to think of my own story that would be good enough. Things like that don't usually seem to happen to me, but one story kept coming into my head. It's really funny (though not nearly as much as yours) if you understand how quiet and shy, and even fearful, I used to be, so I don't know if you would appreciate it but I'll try.
I was at a friend's house, in the yard, with him and another friend. It was getting pretty dark and we were just talking about this and that. A neighbor was across the street, talking on his cell phone or something. Suddenly he burst into a coughing fit.
So I had an idea. To act "cool" in front of the others, I guess. It was a really bad idea, and I knew it, but sometimes my common sense just doesn't nag me enough. Basically the rest of my brain says "screw you" and leaves it at that.
I tried to say what I had thought of, and lost my nerve. The words were stuck in my throat. This would have given me ample time to assess the situation and realize how moronic I was being, but I was being too moronic to care. So I swallowed, gathered my strength, and shouted "Smoke another one!"
Which, of course wasn't particularly witty or clever, but neither were we, so we laughed like hyenas. We quickly tried to stifle our laughter and crouch behind their minivan as the man turned and stared straight at us.
We were terrified. We whispered amongst ourselves nervously, to the effect that he was going to call the police, or at least my friend's parents. The last time I had gotten in any major trouble was in fourth grade for talking back to a bus driver who stole my mother's pencil, so I was trembling. And we couldn't help thinking of the other neighbor we had just visited, who happened to have a three-foot-long Hindu dagger or something.
After what seemed like half an hour, he slowly turned and got ready to go into his house.
And then, my idiot friend yelled, "Gaybob!"
And we repeated the whole process again. Now, I realized that I had been incredibly moronic in the first place, but for him to do that after it all was just... even more incredibly moronic. He has ADHD or something, I think.
So after the guy went into his house we started talking again, but we were still petrified. My friend did a little demonstration of what was happening in the house ("Honey, am I a gaybob?" "Yes! I'm a man you idiot!") and this was before my voice had changed so I was frantically hoping to get around to that within the next little while and not be recognized as one of the perpetrators.
Nothing happened though, so we just went on with our "normal" lives. Valiant men fought for noble causes, inspired artists created breathtaking masterpieces, and we never did that again. Recently, a "For Sale" sign went up in front of his house, and my friend went and talked to the man at his garage sale. Not a word was spoken about the incident.
Okay, so it wasn't really that funny, and there's no real conclusion. So I will just say, the moral of this story is that smoking can cause cancer and make your breath stink. And next time I think I will make up a story.
Bonus: Matt's (slightly edited) superior original story that I was responding to. I wrote, "Oh man... if that story is part of your sinister plot, I'm doomed. My empathy for fellow human beings in poultry costumes is being drained away. That was hilarious!"
Okay, so story time, not sure why:
June of my senior year, time for the annual Physics Great Escape trip. I knew I was going to Clarkson, so this was going to be my last high school field trip; got very nostalgic.
Spent most of the drive down there making fun of my friend Josh with his girlfriend, Megan, and Caleb.
We get to the Great Escape, and everyone hops off the bus, psyched. Matt V and I were a little boisterous about it, but as soon as we look towards the gate, we realize something.
There are freaking little kids everywhere. What the hey?
We had thought that during the middle of a school day in June, there wouldn't be that many people in the park, but it was like a sea of small people. Rough.
Anyway, we get in the park and the first thing we see is Batman and his Robin greeting people and posing for pictures. That would have been awesome, but Batman was fat and Robin was pretty ultron gay. We were like, "Screw that noise." and we dashed on through the park.
Then, down one of those little fake streets they have, we see none other than The Loony Tunes. Heck yes.
Matt V screams like a girl and I shout, "I love you, Bugs!"
They run over and greet us with hugs and stuff.
Matt picks up Daffy and swings him around. Bugs and I get into like a play-fistfight.
THEN
Foghorn Leghorn comes over, this big freaking six-foot-tall chicken and offers me a hug. And I'm thinking, "Dang, Foghorn Leghorn was the worst Loony Tune" and so I kind of refuse the hug and back off. The big cock shrugs and offers me a handshake. I change my mind and leap forward into a sort of tackle-hug.
Then...
I hear a very feminine scream from about two feet below me, and Foghorn Leghorn stumbles off... crying audibly.
Our whole group is like, "WTF?" and we decided it was best to mooooove on, and we all get on a roller coaster.
Then security shows up. Awesome.
I decide to deal with it, hop off the roller coaster, and go across the street to meet and talk with them.
It took some silver-tongue awesomeness, but I convince them first, not to bring me up on felony assault charges (which they were planning on), and second, not to throw our group out of the park (which they also were planning on).
And for the rest of the day, we stuck together and I had to endure countless jokes about rubbing the cock the wrong way.
And that's the story of my felony assault on a chicken.
Your turn.
I was at a friend's house, in the yard, with him and another friend. It was getting pretty dark and we were just talking about this and that. A neighbor was across the street, talking on his cell phone or something. Suddenly he burst into a coughing fit.
So I had an idea. To act "cool" in front of the others, I guess. It was a really bad idea, and I knew it, but sometimes my common sense just doesn't nag me enough. Basically the rest of my brain says "screw you" and leaves it at that.
I tried to say what I had thought of, and lost my nerve. The words were stuck in my throat. This would have given me ample time to assess the situation and realize how moronic I was being, but I was being too moronic to care. So I swallowed, gathered my strength, and shouted "Smoke another one!"
Which, of course wasn't particularly witty or clever, but neither were we, so we laughed like hyenas. We quickly tried to stifle our laughter and crouch behind their minivan as the man turned and stared straight at us.
We were terrified. We whispered amongst ourselves nervously, to the effect that he was going to call the police, or at least my friend's parents. The last time I had gotten in any major trouble was in fourth grade for talking back to a bus driver who stole my mother's pencil, so I was trembling. And we couldn't help thinking of the other neighbor we had just visited, who happened to have a three-foot-long Hindu dagger or something.
After what seemed like half an hour, he slowly turned and got ready to go into his house.
And then, my idiot friend yelled, "Gaybob!"
And we repeated the whole process again. Now, I realized that I had been incredibly moronic in the first place, but for him to do that after it all was just... even more incredibly moronic. He has ADHD or something, I think.
So after the guy went into his house we started talking again, but we were still petrified. My friend did a little demonstration of what was happening in the house ("Honey, am I a gaybob?" "Yes! I'm a man you idiot!") and this was before my voice had changed so I was frantically hoping to get around to that within the next little while and not be recognized as one of the perpetrators.
Nothing happened though, so we just went on with our "normal" lives. Valiant men fought for noble causes, inspired artists created breathtaking masterpieces, and we never did that again. Recently, a "For Sale" sign went up in front of his house, and my friend went and talked to the man at his garage sale. Not a word was spoken about the incident.
Okay, so it wasn't really that funny, and there's no real conclusion. So I will just say, the moral of this story is that smoking can cause cancer and make your breath stink. And next time I think I will make up a story.
Bonus: Matt's (slightly edited) superior original story that I was responding to. I wrote, "Oh man... if that story is part of your sinister plot, I'm doomed. My empathy for fellow human beings in poultry costumes is being drained away. That was hilarious!"
Okay, so story time, not sure why:
June of my senior year, time for the annual Physics Great Escape trip. I knew I was going to Clarkson, so this was going to be my last high school field trip; got very nostalgic.
Spent most of the drive down there making fun of my friend Josh with his girlfriend, Megan, and Caleb.
We get to the Great Escape, and everyone hops off the bus, psyched. Matt V and I were a little boisterous about it, but as soon as we look towards the gate, we realize something.
There are freaking little kids everywhere. What the hey?
We had thought that during the middle of a school day in June, there wouldn't be that many people in the park, but it was like a sea of small people. Rough.
Anyway, we get in the park and the first thing we see is Batman and his Robin greeting people and posing for pictures. That would have been awesome, but Batman was fat and Robin was pretty ultron gay. We were like, "Screw that noise." and we dashed on through the park.
Then, down one of those little fake streets they have, we see none other than The Loony Tunes. Heck yes.
Matt V screams like a girl and I shout, "I love you, Bugs!"
They run over and greet us with hugs and stuff.
Matt picks up Daffy and swings him around. Bugs and I get into like a play-fistfight.
THEN
Foghorn Leghorn comes over, this big freaking six-foot-tall chicken and offers me a hug. And I'm thinking, "Dang, Foghorn Leghorn was the worst Loony Tune" and so I kind of refuse the hug and back off. The big cock shrugs and offers me a handshake. I change my mind and leap forward into a sort of tackle-hug.
Then...
I hear a very feminine scream from about two feet below me, and Foghorn Leghorn stumbles off... crying audibly.
Our whole group is like, "WTF?" and we decided it was best to mooooove on, and we all get on a roller coaster.
Then security shows up. Awesome.
I decide to deal with it, hop off the roller coaster, and go across the street to meet and talk with them.
It took some silver-tongue awesomeness, but I convince them first, not to bring me up on felony assault charges (which they were planning on), and second, not to throw our group out of the park (which they also were planning on).
And for the rest of the day, we stuck together and I had to endure countless jokes about rubbing the cock the wrong way.
And that's the story of my felony assault on a chicken.
Your turn.
