the lonely life of Chuck Levi

Forgive me father for I have sinned.

That’s how it goes right?

Sorry father but I don’t believe in God. Never did. I just can’t afford to see a psychiatrist so I figured this might be the next best thing. I hope you don’t mind. There wasn’t a line outside or anything so I figured you could use the company.

I had this dream last night and it really bummed me out. I was walking along this mountain path with two of my oldest friends who I haven’t seen in a long time and we were talking and laughing and having a great time. We were saying how great it was that we can still get together after all these years and hang out. It was like some great memory of a recent trip I’d taken but then I woke up and realized I’d never taken the trip.

I’d never been hanging out with my old friends.

I’m not sure why but I was really depressed. I missed my old friends.

Forgive me father, that cracking sound is my foot. I have to crack it every fifteen minutes or so or it starts to ache something fierce. It’s funny it should be playing up now because I broke it at a party with those same friends.

I dropped a bowling ball on my foot when I was drunk. Little known fact father: bowling balls are the third most common cause of foot injuries to drunk college students. I think number one is falling or kicking things.

Anyway, I dropped it on my foot and my foot swelled up so fast I ended up having to take the laces out of my shoe just to get it off. I would have gone to the emergency room to get it looked at but there was a girl at the party I was trying to hook up with so I just put it one of the plastic trash cans filled with ice we were holding the kegs in every now and then. By the time I woke up the next morning I figured there was no use crying over fractured milk.

I’m sure you’ve heard a lot dumber things guys do to get with a chick, am I right?

So now it cracks. Sometimes it sounds like I’m holding a handful of dead twigs and then I just give them a good twist and break the lot of them. After I crack it it’s about fifteen minutes or so before it starts aching again.

That’s not what I wanted to talk about so I guess it’s good I’m not paying you by the hour to listen.

The problem is that these old friends got married. You know the drill padre. Once a guy gets married, everything changes.

I’ve always imagined it like slipping into a deprivation tank. Cut off from all outside stimuli. And who’s more stimulating than old college buddies, am I right?

Do you remember that movie Altered States? It’s old as balls but it’s a good one. I think that’s what happens to guys who get married. I waited around for them to turn into cavemen and such because those seemed like guys I’d want to party with but I guess their wives kept the lid shut pretty tight.

You’re keeping pretty quiet in there father. Hope I’m not boring you.

I guess you’d like to know a little more about me before offering any advice huh?

I do odd jobs.

Really odd jobs. I’ll leave it at that.

I wanted to be a detective but my memory is horrible. That’s about the only thing you don’t see on TV these days … a detective with a bad memory. Every other kind of detective gets his own show but no love for the guy with a bad memory. I think that would make a pretty funny show actually. Each week the detective could forget a key clue or bit of evidence that lets the perpetrator walk.

That would be a hoot.

Does Ice T realize that his gangsta image doesn’t scare anyone anymore? To America he’s just one more TV detective with a good memory.

I have a lot of good ideas for TV shows and movies. I have this great one about a sequel to Lost in Translation. The plot is a little fuzzy but in this one Bill Murray gets to tear that Scarlett Johansson ass up. I don’t suppose that’s what you were rooting for the whole time in the first one but I certainly was. Except I’d get Yvonne Strahovski to play her part because Scarlett has hit the wall face first.

You remember Yvonne from that goofy TV show father?

Hello?

Are you still there?