Message With A Bottle

Small talk — the bane of my everyday. Not the Batman villain, though that would be cool, a super villain that crippled Gotham with talk of the weather. In that case he’d be a Weather Bane and I’m way off topic. Let’s right this ship.

Small talk — can’t stand it. Pointless banter with strangers, coworkers and anyone who should cross our paths during our daily routine. Nothing good ever comes from small talk. Sure, it could lead to a deeper discussion, though those instances are few and far and not worth the time put into all the “how about this election?” and “ready for football?” horse cock that people bore each other with while standing in line for a coffee. (Side note — don’t ask a sports fan if he’s ready for a season to start because there is nothing to do in preparation for other men to play a sport. We’re always fucking ready for our favorite season to start because if we weren’t we wouldn’t be a fan. I could watch a football game at any moment — midnight, noon and even instead of sex if the game is compelling or money is on the line. Hell, I’ll have sex and then watch the game, I’m only going to miss the first minute.)

Small talk — it’s the fear of silence. We love to beg for quiet from coworkers, family and friends but the minute it’s quiet enough to hear our own thoughts we freak the fuck out and look for somebody, anybody, to discuss the terrible traffic recently or the rising/falling/rising/steady gas prices.

Small talk — the reason it’s so hard to get shit done. The pointless chatter of people who really don’t need to be talking, unless it involves the transaction in process. Yet, there they are, gabbing away at the CVS counter while people wait in line. The woman standing last in line keeps checking her watch. The guy in front of her seems to be stocking up on travel sized items. The woman in front of her doesn’t appear to be in a rush, but still, who the fuck wants to stand in line in CVS all day? And the man in front of her, with the 2-year-old child ready to dive head first into a display of sunflower seeds for a game of “daddy do you see me?” is me and he wants to know what’s taking so god damn long with the woman paying at the counter.

CVS drone: “Do you have a CVS card?”
Small talker: “I do. And I’ve got coupons. It’s for that face cream. Do a lot of people buy this ass cream?”
CVS drone: “I suppose.”
Small talker: “I love it. I couldn’t believe I got a coupon. It does wonders. I had a friend…”

[a few feet away]

“Daddy do you see me?” (half hidden behind a display)
“I see you.”
“Daddy, do you see me?” (same spot)
“Yup, still see you”
“Daddy,  do you see me?” (same spot)
“Uh huh.”

Small talker: “and how about this heat. It’s just been unbearable….”

“Daddy, do you see me?” (standing on my feet, staring up at me)
“Nope. Good hiding spot bud.”

Small talk — it’s sometimes necessary. It’s how I learned that the woman in the back of the line is late for a meeting, the guy in front of her is traveling to visit family, the woman in front of him is unemployed and the man in front of her has a 2-year-old that isn’t so great at hide and seek but is amazing at screaming at the top of his lungs when waiting too long in a crowded store.

“DADDY DO YOU SEE ME!!!!!!!!!”

Small talker [after glancing back at us]: “Some people just can’t control their children…”