It looked like rain, and then it rained and splashed and flooded. Being dry seemed a good idea, so instead of a day on Telegraph selling fish, I stayed home. Also napped, something I can never get enough of these days.
From Pathetic Life #22
Sunday, March 10, 1996
Here’s the strangest response yet to my “I’ll do anything legal for five dollars an hour” flyers. A guy called my voice mail, and read my entire ad into the machine, noticeably lingering at the part where I say I’ll do “yucky stuff.”
When I wrote the ad, I imagined “yucky stuff” might be emptying bedpans or picking up a hundred dried dog turds from someone’s yard, but nobody’s asked me to do anything truly yucky… until now.
When I returned his call, the man hesitated, seemed embarrassed. I thought he was going to back out and hang up, but when he screwed up his nerve he said, “I’m a really hairy guy, and I’ve got a really hairy butt.”
There was a brief pause, him not sure how to say something, and me wondering what the heck he was about to say. “It’s very difficult…,” he said, “to wipe myself cleanly, because stuff gets stuck in the hair…”
“You need someone to shave your ass?”
“Well, yeah,” relieved that I’d said it.
I thought it over for a few dozen heartbeats. “Well, I’ll tell you what,” I said. “I’ve been kinda sick, and this sounds like it might make me sicker, but — if you can wait a week or so until I get my strength back, I’ll shave your ass. OK?”
“Great!” he said, and gave me his address. Maybe next weekend, we agreed. I ain’t looking forward to it, but I need the money. Philosophically, it’s only work like any work, only most work is only figuratively shitty.
This is an entry retyped from an on-paper zine I wrote many years ago, called Pathetic Life. The opinions stated were my opinions then, but might not be my opinions now. Also, I said and did some disgusting things, so parental guidance is advised.
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