“All I got to say today is ‘Present.’ Full stop, no excuses, no presentations, no presents, no prescience, no predicates, no precursors, no predicaments, no apostrophes, or ellipses, or John Waynes. Period. Full stop. Exclamation point. I. Am. HERE. PRESENT!” These are the words Gregory Isenudgel used to begin that particular day.
Unfortunately, Gretchen, that third wife and trophy blonde of his, presented him with a conundrum: intercourse or fix his own breakfast. Gregory Isenudgel was noted in the culinary arts not for the savor but for the presentation of his bacon and eggs with potatoes (burned, crisp to the yolk, and mushy.) Also, at 72, Gregory was a bit slack in the intercourse department.
Four hours later, his tummy still rebelling from breakfast, he was sitting in front of the TV watching Tom Brady lose the Super Bowl again, when trophy wifey presently presented him with the annunciation that since the stock market was going to crash in the next couple of weeks and he would be down to only a couple of million dimes, nickels, and dollars, she was betting on a bear and walking out. (Gregory, so caught up in presenting and displaying his prize blonde for one and all to appreciate, had forgotten that he found Gretchen running bets on the Stock Exchange floor.)
Which just goes to show, no woman–well, anybody really–is a trophy, and if you are only present in the belief that she–well, anybody really–is, you lose. Especially if it’s a woman–well, anybody–with a libido and mind of her–(you get the picture)–own and the presence to use them.