Cover the Label

Primates in RayBans

Photo by Will Paterson on Unsplash

Looked like the kind of little town that had a sheriff that didn’t particularly like tourists, but Jody Semekel had his beer in a paper bag and the first hit went straight to his head; the cold, the relief after seven hours of a ten hour drive. Heavenly.

He took a seat on a Kelly green bench next to an older man who was unabashedly picking his nose and wiping his fingers on a very faded Beach Boys t-shirt.

Eye contact seemed to happen, rather than either of them initiating it.

Jody said “How’s things?”

The man sat back a bit.

“Really want an answer?”

Jody nodded, not knowing what else to do.

“Things?” the man asked

“Yeah, you know,” Jody said, having had no clue the question would be complicated. ‘Things. Stuff.”

“Well,” the man said. “Generally things are good. Got my health…weather’s been pleasant…but…”

Jody swigged his beer.

He suppressed a belch, smiled at the man, and repeated “but…”

“But,” the man said, locking his eyes in on Jody, “we live in a world of primates in RayBans spitting off bridges to gauge distances they know they’re too afraid to jump from and they’ll spend twenty minutes complaining about the length of other people’s lawns rather than spend fifteen minutes mowing their own, and if there was a biometric for hypocrisy there might be a serious push for eugenics, which is hypocritical in and of itself. For thirty seven dollars someone will sell you a smattering of essential oils that they claim will make your life perfect while four hundred trillion dollars in cancer research hasn’t yielded one frog puckered cure. Plus my hemorrhoids itch like crazy.”

Jody finished his 24 ouncer and this time burped lustily.

“Thought you said your health was good,” Jody said.

“It’s just my asshole,my friend,” the man said. “It doesn’t define me.” 

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