A Cautionary Tale of Steve Reliving his Glory Days

 

 

 

The Kings Throne

            Steve’s last client of the day was watching him from the bathroom doorway, a look of shameless admiration, likely for the paragon of manliness he embodied. She, in reality, stood watchful of the engagement ring she accidentally left on her sink. Steve saw that the woman obviously was hoping for some sort of conversation. He offered his thoughts on the importance of “the common man’s throne” as the equalizer of all humanity, since everyone poops. He let her in on his profound observation turned overused witticism, that “if you unclog a golden toilet, the cause is still likely to be s**t”.

He cleaned up slowly, allowing the woman time to properly thank him for swooping in to save the princess, not figuratively either, an actual Princess Sofia doll. The woman’s daughter had wrapped it in a bikini top and sent it up “the water slide” expecting Sofia to appear in the bathtub ready to play. As Steve was packing, the woman inconspicuously snatched up her ring and beheld an unforgiveable sight, the plumber had no crack. What kind of sick b*****d robs his valued customers the simple pleasure of a good cliché? Next time she would hire a real plumber, not this conceited self-conscious anomaly. A plumber oblivious to everything except the state of his crack is off.

Plumber Pipe Dream

Ruby, Steve’s happily checked out wife, is lounging leisurely in the perfect slice of sunshine at her breakfast nook. Right in the middle of soaking up the non-presence of her husband and his daily “get rich quick scheme”, she is distracted from weighing the benefits of honey over creamer when the sound of her teapots sputtering wheeze becomes a full blown howl. Accompanying the whistle though, is the instant mood killer of too close tires and Billy Idol being rendered silent by a car door slamming, no doubt Steve’s car (he wants you to notice). I cut short my beloved “Steve’s out of town” morning tea ritual and prepare for another agonizing tail of how he was up by “SO MUCH MONEY”, he could have started a blah, blah, blah company or finally got the “Racecar he’s been designing in his head”.

No minimizing, false gaiety this time though, this means Steve actually won a poker tournament. Before my brain snaps back to “Steve’s home reality”, I here 3.9 million, that’s all I hear and due to years of logic suppressing all improbable dreams, it isn’t processing. Not helping to clarify the situation is Steve out there, regaling me in a tone no more excited than he is for Whopper Wednesday, but very satisfied with himself for his first “I told you so” moment. He is feigning nonchalance, as if I can be tricked as easily as himself into thinking it true and honorable of him for having blind faith in himself all this time, with absolutely no evidence to support anything but that he’s the only plumber too self-conscious to be caught with plumbers crack.

Steve’s Amazing Luck Renews Ruby’s Faith in Chaos Theory

Steve’s narrative is delivered so underwhelming that, I’m sure he’s a real egoist or has a genuine mental disorder, rendering him incapable of differentiating dollars and cents. In a moment of clarity he registers my suspicious expression and explains again how he won 3.9 million dollars in a Texas Hold Em’ “death match” against a young Japanese kid, with nothing but his wits and extreme control over his facial expressions, which I know to be his regular slack jawed blank stare, conveying only “derrr” and brought to you by nothing more than sheer stupidity. He obviously beats this villainous “rice cake” with a bluffed hand, the young Jap being fooled into folding a near unbeatable hand.

                       

Steve Calls Wendy the Fios Telemarketer

After giving his wife the great news he decides maybe he’ll get Fios after all and calls “Wendy the Fios Lady’s” extension, only because she can’t give out her cell due to company policy. He slides right in with the nagging question, what kind of toilet she would have if she was rich. He shamelessly keeps her on the phone to discuss how running a Fios cable through there lawn might affect his Mustangs optimal parking, for appreciative onlookers. He questions Wendy on whether Fios premium packages include Formula 1 races, NASCAR events, and HD channels clear enough to “do the pin stripers steady handed, paint job justice” and whether you can discern the sponsors clearly during “even the muddy rally car races”.

He asks Wendy after the first solicitor call for her extension, on the 3^rd he asks if she will be installing the cable herself and if so, what car he should look out for. On the 4^th call he asks for her personal cell phone number in case he “can’t seem to figure out all the clicker buttons”. On the 7^th call his wife, who has been listening indifferently from another line, asks if the premium package has The Smithsonian channel and apologizes to Wendy for her dim witted husband’s racecar fantasy and clicks off.

 Steve continues “I’m definitely leaning towards switching….you know I’ve been thinking about these getting these Jeff Gordon commemorative serving platters I saw on QVC for a while now, this introductory rebate could really free up some cash for those baby’s”. (Young male snorts and woman giggles on Wendy’s) Steve, embarrassed by the possibility they were laughing at him, begins to boast about the poker winnings he “smartly” isn’t touching…just until he researches what the best of everything is so he knows what to buy “like the best TVs, the best jet skis, the best model car sets, the best video game chairs, the best knife collections, the best place to find a Walkman holster comfortable enough to wear to karate class, the best cotton candy machine, you know make sure I’m getting the best stuff with my money”. Steve asks, “If I get Fios for instance, can you guarantee Wi-Fi hotspot on the track, like the NASCAR in Daytona?” Wendy elicits the usual bouncy, string of agreements. Which in Steve’s mind is a direct invite to continue with his intriguing line of questioning. After much assurance, the promise of a follow up call and a freshly faxed map of every Wi-Fi hotspot in America, he is satisfied that he can Instagram himself “tearing up the track”….if not aware that he shouldn’t.

 

Steve and His Mustang Bring his Wife on Vacation

The follow up call is answered by Ruby two weeks later, she informs Wendy that Steve’s car explodes on his 3^rd day of practice lessons at the track, ironically prompted by the sudden recollection of Wendy’s promise that he would in fact be able to admire the pinstripes of a racecar, if he switched to Fios high-speed cable and internet. Disregarding the necessity for caution at 180 mph, Steve allows himself a glimpse at his side mirror to appreciate his newly painted pinstripes. That one greedy glance, taken in defiance of his instructors warnings about speed, is followed the second by him barreling through the safety barricades directly into his wife’s spectator suit.

 

 

While in the hospital recovering from her enormous stroke of luck Ruby writes a cautionary tale warning young women about marrying young men who peeked in high school. Her personal account of marrying the varsity quarterback, who was accustomed to waiting for the world to lie sacrificial gifts at his feet, turned out to be a common blunder middle aged women were universally enduring. Her tirade abhorring gluttony as a vice of the deprived, was simultaneously dismissed as the ranting’s of a menopausal b***h and sold out. She flooded the talk show circuit. Ageing studs everywhere were scared straight, unsatisfied wives everywhere cashed in on the power a little book, in plain view, could do for their husband’s attention span.

Privilege, Ruby thought, was something boys don’t grow out of and men can unexpectedly die of. It was a fantastical illusion her husband expected. The plumber with a yellow mustang and a resized high school championship ring thought he would hit it big. On weekends he routinely left Ruby to “guard the castle” while he put every penny of expendable income on Roulette numbers 7 and 6, in honor of the year he graduated. The hilarious kick being that he actually did “hit it big” and it was all the encouragement he needed to lay claim to his throne. Steve walked, conflated ego first, into the body shop and got his precious stead a new custom paint job “he mixed himself”, before getting his neglected wife a manicure.

Ignorance, Ruby warns cannot be helped, the evidence being with a million possibilities idiots will surprise their lovely wives by renting the NASCAR test track for two weeks so she can hear his complaints about the “unnecessary” training needed to race his obviously worthy remodeled 99’ Mustang. She was once again a spectator, this time though there were curious NASCAR representatives, race car drivers and wealthy sponsors to witness the spectacle of a grown man at playtime too. The looks on their faces upon hearing about the newly rich a*****e there to rent the track was, first insulted by his expecting the spoils of a battle in which he did not fight, then upon introductions, only humor at the pathetic plumber/wannabe racecar driver who thought the sponsor’s where actually there scouting him.

Ruby’s message is that those who have worked for life’s luxuries deserve reward for their skill and knowledge, to the few who manage to hit that against all odds lucky break the attempt to buy what they earned is an insult. The main caution being that if you marry this man you have to endure not only his stupidity, but stupidity by association. That she says makes for very few invites and pretty s****y life.

Steve never notices or cares to notice anything but what he deserves. He burnt to death in his car due to the rapid acceleration of flames, on account of the insufficient drying time allowed for the “way more shiny” (and notably more flammable) sealant coat. His wife survives with the most profitable broken leg of all time after suing the race track for breaking protocol stating 400 hours of training before solo driving, bribery in exchange for illegal certification and reckless disregard for public safety. She was left with the remaining 3.6 million dollars of Steve’s poker winnings and splurged on a stock model hybrid and Optimum Triple Play.