not a kid and not that friendly


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FICTION

how to be successful with the ladies

HOW TO BE SUCCESSFUL WITH THE LADIES ...

Naomi texts him, he texts her, she texts back. He’s written her this email but he doesn’t want to send it. It’s a big – here’s my heart on a stick, please feel free to take a kick – sort of deal. Not really appropriate between work friends.
Friends. Work friends. A bunch of them are goin out tonight for a few drinks. And of course the right, the only sensible, the obvious thing to do is just get drunk and tell her. Tell her – he – gulp gulp gulp – the word choice here is vital – loves… fancies… is attracted to… wants to be more than just a friend?
He spends the afternoon pacing round his room composing himself. Thinkin himself into the role, role playing with a sock puppet.

Practise. Practise. Be calm, calm, calm. You can feel a warm light flowing through your body. Ahhhh. Look into the mirror. See yourself as others see you. Happy, confident, powerful. Poooowwwwerrrfullll. Smile. No smile properly.

You look so stupid. You look so stupid. NO! Come on! Be positive. And ignore the fact that you’re standing in your underpants with a sock puppet on your hand. Be cool. Be John Travolta. Be Travis Bickle. NO, do not be Travis Bickle. Do not be a weirdo. Think like a boyband member on his night out. Supreme confidence, everyone loves you. Deep breath. Deep breath. Breathe from the gut. Ummmm. Ahhhh. Ummm. Ahhhh.
Ha, hum, so, ah, we’re having a drink! You, sock puppet: are Naomi. We’re in a bar; you’ve had a few drinks, I’ve had – I’ve had a fuckin crate of ale. But I’m relaxed, and you Naomi: you’ve just laughed at some amusing remark I’ve just made. Go on, sock puppet, laugh!

“Haaaaaaaaaaa! Haaaaaaaa!”

“And try not to be so weird.”

The sock puppet starts sniffing, “I hope you’re gonna have a wash before you go out. I stink.”

“This isn’t helping.”

“Sorry, go on. I’ll be sensible.”

“Okay… Ha ha ha ha. Yes, the weather’s terrible – or whatever is was we’re talkin about bollocks… Look, Naomi-

“Yes?”

“We've been friends for a while now…”

“Yes? And frankly I'm beginning to find you a bore. I'd prefer it if you didn't talk to me any more.” The sock puppet was proving to be a bit of a twat. In an attempt at realism - realism? – the sock puppet has blue button eyes glued to its black sock face and wears red marker pen lipstick. It looks as scary as he makes it sound.

“I love someone else. Let me go back into the sock drawer to be with the one I love. That odd white sports sock with the hole in it, he's much more interesting than you'll ever be.”

“I think I’m going mental. I’m arguing with my own hand stuck in a sock.” He gives up, then tries again, one last time. “Listen, seriously, I'd like you to… be my girlfriend.”

The sock puppet just laughs her horrible distainful laugh.

“Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. Heeeeeeee heeeeeeeeeeeee haaaaaaa”

Perhaps he could kill Tony Blair, go down the Travis Bickle route. Actually that probably would impress Naomi. But she'd probably prefer it if he killed Bono. It's something to bear in mind, but probably left for the sort of - In the Event of an Emergency - Break Glass – kind of situation. Not of immediate use.

'Am I still needed?' Sock puppet Naomi looks up at him. He glares back at her with evil thoughts on his mind.

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