the plight of the foolPosted: April 28, 2009
“My friend, I’ve realized that I’m quite the quiet fool,” Jay spoke, disenchanted and now clutching a thick glass of an unknown beverage. Various knick-knacks are scattered throughout the walls, pictures of groups of drunken friends sharing a night on a single roll of film and a seemingly limitless amount of what one would call a tasty beverage.
“You know that makes no sense, right?” His friend Nick interjects, half asleep and half intoxicated. He runs his fingers around a shorter, thinner glass filled with a carbonated liquid that mixed with rum.
“The way her eyes glistened with the lights, man, goddamn, she was beautiful.” Jay stereotypically looked up into a dim lamp covered with a green glass shade, making himself appear to be the dreamer type. He was referring to a woman across an expanse of hard floors, tables, and people. A slightly tall woman, with a slender figure that was draped with a dress the color of the bright sky after a storm. Her face was indeed one that would be described as beautiful by most. “Were they hazel? Or maybe the color of a warm mug of hot chocolate after a day of failing at skiing?”
“So it’s about a girl. Didn’t you-”
“Still not done,” “I’m telling you, perfection. The way she was engrossed in conversation almost made me feel like saying hello. Oh man, that smile, that voice,”
“You heard her voice?”
“Well, yeah. I was over at that side of the bar,” Jay pointed toward the area he was referring to, “See, I was getting another drink when I saw her and was just enthralled. I’d call it love at first sight but you’d call me a sissy. Or another, less nice word.”
“I would, actually.” Nick takes another sip from his glass, revealing a ring of condensation on the table. He wiped it away with a wet napkin before continuing, “So why didn’t you say hello?” He prepares himself for a response, for his friendship with Jay often led to situations such as these.
“I’m telling you, ridiculously out of my league. I’m playing high school baseball and she’s in the fricken’ MLB. I wouldn’t even be able to begin to say hello without tripping over my words, and then tripping over myself in a way only I could do. She’d probably think I’m a drunk loser. An ugly sonofabitch. A pretentious douchebag who wants nothing more than a one night stand- mind you that would be pretty great in and of itself- or some drunk loser who was staring at her for the past fifteen minutes! She’d probably think I was staring at her breasts the whole time! And even if I do manage to say hello, what then? I’m telling you, guys can swoon and freak the shit out over the ladies much like they can over us. It’s ridiculous. Fricken ridiculous.” Jay scratched behind his ear, and drank half of his glass of beverage. He awaited a response, taking the time to listen around for conversations that were somewhat to marginally interesting.”
“Are you done?” Nick asks, mockingly.
“Am I ever?” Jay sighs.
“Take a shot.” As if on cue, a tray appears from the ether, carrying two shot glasses with what one could only assume is vodka. “Drown out that idiot in you who thinks you don’t have a chance without drowning that fool in you who somehow makes you endearing and cute and all those other things that encompass being charming, and go talk to her, dammit!”
Jay drinks a shot, and grimaces. “Did you just call me cute?”
“I’m wasting my goddamn time.”
Later on in the night, Nick witnessed a pair of beautiful, sparkling eyes the colour of a warm cup of hot chocolate focus on a bumbling fool, who had enough liquid courage to say hello. Five minutes later, laughter and the beginnings of a possible something. Nick smiles, and finishes his original beverage, trying his best to hide the lament of being one who can not practice what he teaches. Jay gestures his glass towards him, during a moment when the hazel eyes were absent. Nick gestures back, and looks up towards the green lights, only dreaming of what he was to do next. Those actions would remain in his mind, as they always did.