Speech

by Danijel Gujic

Sumitted August 25, 2009

She looks so sad when that dog was mentioned. I remember that story; it was in the news recently. A crazy owner kills his dog for no reason. Poor little animal, he didn’t even see it coming. I want to raise my hand to ask her a question, but my hand doesn’t listen. Nonetheless I ask the question, whispering it so that only I can hear it. “Do you know how many animals are killed in the States for food every hour”? I say. I read the statistics somewhere and if I remember correctly, it was around a million. Nice round number. Somehow it doesn’t make sense, but math was never my thing. So many hours spent to prove that zero equals zero. It’s a waste of time if you ask me. Back to the speaker.

She definitely doesn’t have a problem with public speaking. She looks at crowd from the above, and it almost looks like the crowd is trying to avoid eye contact, because they are somehow afraid of her shamelessness. I wonder if she has heard about that guy who was tortured by a Nazi soldier in a World War. The guy held his head high all the time he was tortured. Finally when a soldier was ready to finish him off he asked the guy if he was afraid, and the guy told him not to worry about him but to worry how to finish his work properly. I guess the point of the story is that sometimes you can kneel in front of somebody, but you can still look at him from the above even if that is physically impossible. Enough about that. Nobody wants to listen to sad stories. Let’s get back to real problems.

Ah, sexual freedom is next. She talks passionately. We need to share our experiences, to experiment, she said. We shouldn’t be ashamed of our bodies. That way we can get to a next level of sexual pleasure. I don’t get it. What next level? I already enjoy it immensely. How can it possibly be better? Anything more would just give me a heart attack. I always thought that we shouldn’t even talk about sex. If you get some, every now and then, well good for you, but all that measuring and partner counting doesn’t do it for me. Numbers can hardly do the justice. But don’t get me wrong, I’m not old-fashioned, I read the stats. I know I’m a couple of girls shy of average guy, but you try to explain that to my girlfriend. I only wonder if those who like to go both ways count their partners all together, or do their partners cancel each other if they’re a different gender. Here I go with my math again.

Finally she mentioned that better times are coming. That’s a good one. Better times are always coming but they never actually come. It’s hard to believe that in 2000 years of modern history we still didn’t learn that there is no world peace. There is only a new generation of freaks every 30 years, new kids that don’t listen to their parents, new kids that run in the same circles, making same mistakes, round and round like the ones before them. Like a mad cat trying to catch its tail. We’re no different. We don’t deserve the end of the world. We don’t deserve the aliens, the snowman or the Loch Ness monster. Bearded woman, maybe, if we behave good. Some bad times, sure and good times too, but never better times. They always come next year. Together with the end of the world, I guess.

A nice round of applause, damn she is already done. How can that be? I almost forgot that I’m next. But, I’m totally unprepared. I don’t want to go on the stage. Suddenly my legs are moving. I don’t see the stage; oh it’s behind my back. It looks like I’m running the other way. Nice. I’m one of those guys whose lower body is stronger than the upper portion. Kind of like Johnny Bravo but backwards. My legs can go for hours; it’s my lungs that are having problem keeping up. I don’t turn around, because I don’t want to see people’s faces. That crowd would eat me alive. They’re not ready to hear the truth anyway, I say to myself. Nobody wants to be a bearer of bad news. Is that why I’m running? Or could it be simply because I’m a coward?

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