B&c: How's work?
Teddy: I haven't killed anyone yet.
B&c: So, better than last year?
T: I said "yet." How's your fish?
T: You know that guy who's always out walking?
T: You know, the one that you'll see walking on Georgia Avenue all the way up past Aspen Hill and then again down on Connecticut in Kensington?
B&c: Oh, the really fit guy with the giant ponytail?
T: It's not a ponytail. It's a monolithic dreadlock. Or it was, anyway.
B&c: What do you mean "was"?
T: Dude cut his hair. The dread is gone, now it's just blond, curly, and not quite to his shoulders. He looks hot!
B&c: Is he still wearing the bright...
T: Yeah, hot pink shorts and an orange t-shirt. They go really well with that borderline insane aesthetic he's working.
B&c: You want him, don't you?
T: Well, sure, he stirs my loins, but how would I go about meeting him? Besides, it's bad karma to fuck crazy men.
B&c: How do you know he's even a bottom?
T: Dude. Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade.
B&c: Ok. So why is it bad karma?
T: It just is. Besides, if you fuck a crazy man, he's likely to attach himself to you, and then you can't get rid of him. Which is a problem, because he's crazy.
B&c: Poor Teddy. Always attracted to what you're afraid to have.
T: Yeah, yeah, my tragic life. Seriously, though, there's this really hot Tourette's case who hangs out in the Starbucks on the ground floor of my office building. He's there every day when I go in to get my mocha.
B&c: You mean your venti decaf skim no-whip mocha?
B&c: Thank you. It's a gift.
T: Anyway, he's there every afternoon, sitting at a table, reading the paper, listening to music with headphones and making his Tourette's noises.
B&c: And this is attractive because...
T: Because he looks like he's in his mid-thirties, but with gray streaks in his hair, which is very thick and moderately long, but always impeccably clean. Also, he's very fit, and fairly handsome, and you just know that if you fucked him, it'd be really loud. Plus, he twitches uncontrollably from time to time, and how hot would that be.
B&c: I thought guys already did that when you fucked them.
T: Good point. This guy would be hotter, though. I have this whole fantasy where some bleached-blonde Bethesda bimbo comes in and starts complaining about this guy, and I tell her off, and he's very grateful to me for rescuing him from the intolerance of others.
B&c: A mocha-wielding knight in shining armor. That's you, in a nutshell. Well, I suppose it could happen.
T: Nah. Nobody even bats an eye when he makes the noises or twitches. He's like a fixture there. If he's not there, it's like they've run out of Splenda.
B&c: Hmmm. Speaking of fixtures, Jerry asked me for advice about how to get rid of Van today.
T: He's tired of playing with him?
B&c: Well, you know how he is.
T: I've never had the pleasure, but as soon as he's ready to embrace his inner bottom...
B&c: I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you. He's, well, stubborn.
T: So what's the problem for Jerry?
B&c: I don't think it's a sexual problem. Van just always wants to talk about the same things and isn't all that interested in what other people want.
T: Like I said, embrace his inner bottom.
B&c: Oh give it up.
T: No, see, I want him to give it up.
B&c: You know what I mean.
T: But he's so cute.
B&c: Yeah, but he's a pain in the ass.
T: [meaningful stare]
B&c: Don't even say it.
T: I wasn't going to. It was too easy, even for me. Anyway, Miss Manners says that if you want to get rid of someone, the best way to go is the passive aggressive approach. Just refuse their invitations until they stop asking.
B&c: Yeah, I told Jerry to just stop taking his calls.
T: I've always thought that a short e-mail saying that you're not interested was the better approach, but I reckon you end up in the same place.
B&c: Anyway, I told Jerry that I knew someone else who's interested in him.
T: Oh? Who?
B&c: Ben, my Ph.D. buddy from Zaire.
T: The priest?
B&c: No, the other one. But I don't think Jerry's interested.
T: Really? Does he have a fear of big wood?
B&c: No. I think he just doesn't like black men.
T: Oh well: more for us.