As You Say...

If you don’t say what’s on your mind, at the second it occurs, you’ll go insane. So just say the damned words.

“That looks stupid.”

There you go again making a fool of yourself.

But what did you expect? You are a fool. You are the world’s biggest, dumbest, ugliest fool on the face of the planet. And just giving your unfettered unfiltered opinion at the only dinner party you’re ever invited to, once a freakin’ year, is the perfect way to make sure no one else you know takes that award of Grand Stupidity away.

Look at how everyone’s looking at you, staring at you, with their utensils all propped in mid-air, jaws dropped like they just saw the second coming of Christ down Main Street. You’re the resident Idiot now boy, that’s for sure, and you’ve just been pointed out – Bravo! Good for you! The award’s in the mail. And the flashing red letter neon sign over your head is flashing: “Stupid,” “Stupid,” “Stupid...”

The food is getting cold and this eternity of looking at you will not end. It won’t – Never! Even though it will stop technically in just seconds, this moment will be seared into your memory forever. Whenever you think of a time that you’re doing something right, when you’re doing some activity correctly, like you’re following directions, or you’re waving some stranger in front of you in massive traffic lines all as a kind nicety for no reason to some anonymous human being you’ll never ever see again, or maybe you’re about to compliment a person ever so gently as you’ve been tutored to do time and time again, in practice with Mrs. McKittrick your behavior therapist aide, the one with whom you practice discourse every day on the subject of Manners in the non-stop circles of your mad mind, this will be the only memory that jumps straight to the front of your head. That one memory, right to the fore.

You dumb-ass! You stupid! You pervert!

What the hell on God’s green earth were you thinking? You do have Tourette’s, now don’t you? You can’t keep from saying whatever comes straight to mind? Ever. Stupid!

When will they continue eating? You eat, that will get them eating.

Put the fork in your mouth and continue chomping that first bite of salad like a little bunny rabbit and don’t stop. One fork after the next. Keep it up. Take that parsley, and nab that piece of spinach. You’ve really chosen the perfect time to make an ass of yourself, right before the main course and before everyone really has a chance to start digesting. Those lettuce leafs are fresh and that vinaigrette really tastes good on your tongue. Your taste buds love what’s in your mouth.

Wash that down with a swish of water. Give a half grin, like you meant the comment and that you’re proud of yourself for saying it – That Looks Stupid! A swish into the Basketball Hoop Of Conversation for a slam dunk. Down goes the water. Swallow. Hard.

You are the maestro of the evening’s mistakes. The Queen of the castle known as Faux Pas. And your table is nothing but servants here to take your every mistake with every bite of their supper.

But your true conscience knows that’s not the case: you’re not a fool. You’re really quite smart. Brilliant in fact. The intelligence quotient exams you’ve taken again and again and again online, via parcel post, in-person, any which way you can, all point to the fact that you’re really quite ahead of the general population in all manners of testing. You just make mistakes that’s all. Just like everyone else, really.

Except yours happen to be the words you speak. Time and time again.

You don’t mean the words you say, you just say them. As they come top of mind. Whatever the hell it may be. Really, it’s okay, you’re not a bad person.

See, they’ve started eating again and they’re talking among themselves. Sure it’s in hushed tones and only with the person directly beside them. And not you!

But what would you expect? You made a non-sequitur. A party crash. They won’t speak with you. Only around you.

You’re going to eat alone at this table of fourteen. No one wants to talk to you now and why would they? Not after what you said!

The hostess spent hours putting together this beautiful table. This gorgeous linen with the center piece all hand-made with pieces from all over the world, and you belittled it. You smirched the center piece. You said it looks stupid! Those were your exact words: That - Looks - Stupid!

You look stupid. Have you looked at yourself? Did you even look in the mirror before you left this evening? That godawful red turtleneck with the brooch from so long ago, you can feel the pin on your skin, cold, to the touch of your clavicle.

And it looks so stupid. Of all the decorations to put on your body, that’s the one you chose? You’ve got a jewelry chest full of stuff to offset your ugly face and that’s the one to showcase? The damned wreath? The one with all the sparkly jewels. Fourteen carats – Big deal! Most of your friends have more gold sprinkled on their pinkie nail than you do in your entire condo you stupid git!

You really look stupid. And you are stupid too.

All that nice stuff about you forget about, you should be shot in the head. Shot in the head with a forty-four magnum. One bullet, one imbecile. Do everyone a favor and put all your brain guts all over the wall of your dining room. Or all over your kitchen where you don’t even know how to cook one sanitary food dish. See that; nobody’s even touched your dish. Because they know, it’s from you. So they don’t want to touch it!

They’re just making idle chit-chat back and forth between themselves until this very dark cloud passes over. But it’s not going to. No, not tonight.

You are going to have to go through the rest of the night with this scarlet letter labeling you the Louse of the County. The Dumb-ass of the State. The Head Terd of the Country! Nobody would vote for you if it were for Secretary at the rotary club for crying out loud, you’re such a dumbbell.

Finish your salad, have some more water, and keep your eyes down, pinned to the table cloth. Nobody wants to connect with you right now.

Actually, it’s really sad, isn’t it?

Because these are your few friends. You’re lucky they call themselves your friends, now aren’t you? Who would want to be your friend? Most especially tonight?

The tears are starting to well up now aren’t they? There’s a rift of pain going straight up your throat. It’s constricting. You’re having difficulty swallowing.

You feel so alone, because you are.

And it really is so sad because you’re not that bad a person. Really. You just screw up. Over and over again. And you hurt all the people you love.

Why do you do that? Why can’t you just be you? Your true self? Your kind self?

Hold back the tears, wipe the corners of your eyes with your cloth napkin. There you go. Give yourself a hug, you deserve it. You’re not really a bad person, are you? Remember you’re the one your mother brought up to be so kind and nice to others as she used to brag?

But really, you’re not, are you? You’re actually just a mean, disgusting, ugly person. Someone no one can stand to be around.

Ask to pass the salt. Just ask somebody. Go on, do it! Ask for the salt!

“Could you pass the salt?”

And don’t say Please – that would be too nice. Leave as is. Let them send the salt all the way around the circuitous table to you. Indentured servants they are, remember?

Don’t say please!