I like what you're saying,\ I responded to the idea of sharpies and co-eds. ""I definitely don't want to be some Dr. Phil-esque, out-of-shape, know-it-all…""
""But Eric, I do know everything,"" Dr. Phil butted in. ""For example, I know you delay writing your columns until the last second because you're afraid. You're scared what you create might suck once you get it on paper, that you're really just a lucky hack.""
""Shut up, that's the most redic… well, uh… wait, no."" I tried to focus. ""All you're doing is playing this self-satisfying role, sensationalizing yourself and other's problems. Just because you can make common sense generalizations about people's actions doesn't mean you're better than them.""
""Hey baby, never mind him. You're missing the big picture."" Finally the pimp spoke up. ""You remember last weekend? The party with all the honeys, and I use ‘honeys' loosely. Not to say they weren't attractive, but cuz the best way to describe them is loose. Ha HA! See, I could have helped it so you didn't go home alone.""
""See here, lesson one,"" an attractive girl stepped into the light as he spoke. She was beautiful, gorgeous… indescribably. She drew near, her fingers barely making contact as they glided down my arm. My mind told me she was my perfect girl as she traced her trance into my skin.
Her eyes stayed locked with mine as the pimp stepped so his mouth floated inches from the girl's ear. Under his breath he whispered, ""I cherish you, you're so fine. I want you, keep you near to me, us into one. I'll take you to where Pleasure Rd. crosses Ecstasy Ave., and keep going until you've reached Passion Heights.""
Almost imperceptibly, her left knee quivered. Then she faded away as a whispered moan escaped her lips. ""It's that easy baby. You could have a different girl every night.""
""I, uh,"" I stuttered. ""Well, that was unsettling. Besides I don't want a different girl every night, I just want one special girl all nights.""
The pimp countered. ""Well how you gonna find that special girl? You're bound to find her my way.""
""Uh, hmm, I see your point. Dammit, this is confusing. I don't know what to do.""
""It's easy, Eric. You just need a little Life-Q,"" Dr. Phil said smugly.
""A little what now?"" I asked.
""Life-Q, it's like Guy-Q. You see, it's a play on words.""
""IQ isn't a word, it's an acronym."" I grimaced.
""Whatever, I can still patent the phrase and charge sad people…""
Dr. Phil's head suddenly jerked to the side as if to look behind him. But the action was too fast and was accompanied by a wet pop. The fog retreated as Dr. Phil's body fell, but the hazy sheets returned quickly, covering everything back over.
""You make a good argument, ninja."" I admitted flatly as the mysterious character stared at his work.
""Damn, I want to be a ninja,"" Dave sighed.
""I have helped you in your choice, my friend,"" the ninja avowed. ""Though that was easy. Now, however, I will help you again.""
Grohl and the pimp looked at each other nervously as he continued.
""I will remove… myself. You see, my lifestyle is respected and feared, yet no less self-serving than Dr. Phil's. I wish you honor and peace.""
The ninja stepped backwards and was lost into the nothing.
""That cat was deep,"" the pimp mused. ""But now it should be easy for you. One of the other, me or my co-ego choice here.""
""Yeah, you're right,"" I breathed.""I choose… neither.""
""Huh?"" they chorused.
While I had considered being any of these choices to some extent, none were adequate now. It was time I made up my own character to become. And whether that involved comedy, chemical engineering or writing long, drawn out, overly melodramatic columns; it should be a good trip.
This is Eric's final column. He would like to personally thank you for reading. Seriously. Stop him for a hug or handshake or e-mail him at ejjensen3@wisc.edu. Read this full unabridged story online at www.dailycardinal.com
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