Monday, February 07, 2005
Kyle Quirk- Deadbeat Dad
Beware of this man:
Ladies, if you see him coming, run. He's a smooth talker and handsome as all hell, but all he really has to offer is a cheap night of sloppy canoodling, weak coffee in the morning, and a little bundle of piss and vinegar, payable nine months down the road. Sure, he'll whisper sweet nothings into your ear about how he "wouldn't dream of keeping your $36.92 from you- It's yours, isn't it?" and how "it's supposed to point that way, I swear," but you'll learn the truth.
You'll learn that while he's quick to pay the cable bill so that his precious On Demand movies don't go away, he's not so forthright when it comes to other expenses in his life. You'll learn that no matter how many notes you may write and post conspicuously, he'll just waltz in and out of the kitchen without paying them the slightest mind. You'll learn that this man, this Kyle Quirk, is the deadbeatest of dads.
And so you'll sit, wallowing in your babymama sorrow, waiting for the day when Kyle will get off the phone with Marie and actually come into your room and talk to you. It's right off the kitchen after all- it can't be so hard for him to find. You'll wait for the day when you'll get a knock at your door and it won't just be Will wondering if those dishes are yours or Jeff asking to borrow a tool. It'll be him- the man who told you he would rock out with you forever, the man who stole your heart some time during the second chorus of "I Think We're Alone Now" and hasn't yet given it back. And he'll ask you how much he owes you again- he'll make you think he just might round up to an even 37 bucks! He'll tear the check at the perforated edge and ease it toward you, your sweaty, trembling hand begging to hold what was rightfully yours to begin with.
He'll have hoodwinked you again- made you believe he was giving you something when in fact he's merely repaying what he owes. What he owes for the suffering he has caused: the late nights, the early mornings, the lonliness in knowing that the man you once loved prefers to spend his time Downriver. And you'll thank him.
Your eyes will meet his and for that instant you'll know you're forever in his debt. You'll wish like you've never wished for anything before for just one more night. You'll crave the whiskey, the beer, the ignorant ecstasy of thinking that the two of you "Just Can't Get Enough" of each other. You'll think how it was worth all worth it, how you'd have given anything to live the life you lived that night! Then you'll look down at your hand. You'll uncurl the fist you had formed in longing and delight and you'll know. You'll know how to quantify pure happiness. You hold in your hand the code to unlock endless caches of ardor. You'll lower your eyes and there it will be: $36.92.
Hey Kyle- I needs to git paid!
Ladies, if you see him coming, run. He's a smooth talker and handsome as all hell, but all he really has to offer is a cheap night of sloppy canoodling, weak coffee in the morning, and a little bundle of piss and vinegar, payable nine months down the road. Sure, he'll whisper sweet nothings into your ear about how he "wouldn't dream of keeping your $36.92 from you- It's yours, isn't it?" and how "it's supposed to point that way, I swear," but you'll learn the truth.
You'll learn that while he's quick to pay the cable bill so that his precious On Demand movies don't go away, he's not so forthright when it comes to other expenses in his life. You'll learn that no matter how many notes you may write and post conspicuously, he'll just waltz in and out of the kitchen without paying them the slightest mind. You'll learn that this man, this Kyle Quirk, is the deadbeatest of dads.
And so you'll sit, wallowing in your babymama sorrow, waiting for the day when Kyle will get off the phone with Marie and actually come into your room and talk to you. It's right off the kitchen after all- it can't be so hard for him to find. You'll wait for the day when you'll get a knock at your door and it won't just be Will wondering if those dishes are yours or Jeff asking to borrow a tool. It'll be him- the man who told you he would rock out with you forever, the man who stole your heart some time during the second chorus of "I Think We're Alone Now" and hasn't yet given it back. And he'll ask you how much he owes you again- he'll make you think he just might round up to an even 37 bucks! He'll tear the check at the perforated edge and ease it toward you, your sweaty, trembling hand begging to hold what was rightfully yours to begin with.
He'll have hoodwinked you again- made you believe he was giving you something when in fact he's merely repaying what he owes. What he owes for the suffering he has caused: the late nights, the early mornings, the lonliness in knowing that the man you once loved prefers to spend his time Downriver. And you'll thank him.
Your eyes will meet his and for that instant you'll know you're forever in his debt. You'll wish like you've never wished for anything before for just one more night. You'll crave the whiskey, the beer, the ignorant ecstasy of thinking that the two of you "Just Can't Get Enough" of each other. You'll think how it was worth all worth it, how you'd have given anything to live the life you lived that night! Then you'll look down at your hand. You'll uncurl the fist you had formed in longing and delight and you'll know. You'll know how to quantify pure happiness. You hold in your hand the code to unlock endless caches of ardor. You'll lower your eyes and there it will be: $36.92.
Hey Kyle- I needs to git paid!
