Saturday, June 2, 2012
On Becoming an Ed Calkins Wife, Part 2
Waitresses are always welcome as wives of Ed Calkins, but they must actually wait on me! Also, one of my other wives has to be present. This is a new rule introduced by Debbie Blond (actual name Debbie Brown (remember her)) who objected to being bumped from wife number six back to wife seven without once meeting her competition. More on that later.
Understand that I quit writing marriage proposals on dollar bills years ago. I learned that it is impolite (and illegal) to deface currency. It’s also hard to read, "Will you marry me?" scrawled on a bill. Furthermore some women receive so many such messages that they get confused as to who it was that gave them the dollar bill. They tend to assume what they want to assume. (Why did you think Donald Trump has been married so many times?) Besides that, it’s tacky, making it seem like the bill is a bride for a “Yes.” But mostly it’s because I've simply run out of them.
This might surprise your readers considering I enjoy the financial compensation of a paperboy, but even an ocean can run out of water. (If I had a dollar for every girl I asked to marry before asking actually worked, maybe I'd still live in Tara this day (although the place needs rebuilding but you get the idea)).
By the time I met my first wife (the only one I actually sleep with (more on that)), I couldn't afford a dollar, so I bought her a vending machine cup of coffee (true story). But the buying of the coffee left me unable to afford a pencil to write “Will you marry me?” on it. I did ask her verbally, but you know how people forget things that aren't written down. (Hence route lists)
It cost me three years of awkward dating waiting for the answer to a question she'd forgotten. Finally, when I got the notion to bring the subject up again, she said "Marriage uh? Interesting... You have to prove your courage first. Ask my Daddy.”
To my surprise, her father was quite nice to me saying, "If you don't let the band play the chicken dance at the reception, you can marry my other two daughters as well.” With that promise sealed with a handshake, I thought my harem was finally on its way. The problem is; he never told his daughters about this arrangement. It’s been a tad awkward with wives two and three ever since.
I realize that this account of my first wife differs from the one in the book, but that shouldn't trouble your readers. A good myth should always have competing versions lest they both versions get lazy and stop embellishing.
BTW if anyone has a dollar bill from Ed Calkins with "Will you marry me?” written on it, and you wish to redeem it, consider yourself married. (Just let me know so I can update my spreadsheet.)
If instead you wish know the value of this testament to history, my appraisers advise me that you should spend the dollar. (I say, just give the dollar to a girlfriend less attractive than you. Thus, she will be more likely to say, “Yes.” That’s because I realized I'd never get as many wives as Ramsis III if I didn’t make proposals transferable.
Understand that I quit writing marriage proposals on dollar bills years ago. I learned that it is impolite (and illegal) to deface currency. It’s also hard to read, "Will you marry me?" scrawled on a bill. Furthermore some women receive so many such messages that they get confused as to who it was that gave them the dollar bill. They tend to assume what they want to assume. (Why did you think Donald Trump has been married so many times?) Besides that, it’s tacky, making it seem like the bill is a bride for a “Yes.” But mostly it’s because I've simply run out of them.
This might surprise your readers considering I enjoy the financial compensation of a paperboy, but even an ocean can run out of water. (If I had a dollar for every girl I asked to marry before asking actually worked, maybe I'd still live in Tara this day (although the place needs rebuilding but you get the idea)).
By the time I met my first wife (the only one I actually sleep with (more on that)), I couldn't afford a dollar, so I bought her a vending machine cup of coffee (true story). But the buying of the coffee left me unable to afford a pencil to write “Will you marry me?” on it. I did ask her verbally, but you know how people forget things that aren't written down. (Hence route lists)
It cost me three years of awkward dating waiting for the answer to a question she'd forgotten. Finally, when I got the notion to bring the subject up again, she said "Marriage uh? Interesting... You have to prove your courage first. Ask my Daddy.”
To my surprise, her father was quite nice to me saying, "If you don't let the band play the chicken dance at the reception, you can marry my other two daughters as well.” With that promise sealed with a handshake, I thought my harem was finally on its way. The problem is; he never told his daughters about this arrangement. It’s been a tad awkward with wives two and three ever since.
I realize that this account of my first wife differs from the one in the book, but that shouldn't trouble your readers. A good myth should always have competing versions lest they both versions get lazy and stop embellishing.
BTW if anyone has a dollar bill from Ed Calkins with "Will you marry me?” written on it, and you wish to redeem it, consider yourself married. (Just let me know so I can update my spreadsheet.)
If instead you wish know the value of this testament to history, my appraisers advise me that you should spend the dollar. (I say, just give the dollar to a girlfriend less attractive than you. Thus, she will be more likely to say, “Yes.” That’s because I realized I'd never get as many wives as Ramsis III if I didn’t make proposals transferable.
Ruthlessly yours,
Ed Calkins, the Steward of Tara
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