JOE THE LARRY
By Matthew Sanborn Smith
His name was Joe the Fox, but people who didn’t know him well just called him Mr. the Fox. When he went water skiing people called him Larry, even people who knew him outside of water skiing. Joe the Fox had no idea why, but he never corrected them (You never know when you might need another identity). He suspected it was a Superman sort of thing. Superman puts on the glasses, he becomes Clark Kent. Joe the Fox puts on the water skis, he becomes Larry.
Here was the problem though: Joe the Fox found his Lois Lane. It didn’t seem like a problem at first. Her name was Irma and she was wonderful. They met on the slopes. Joe took the lift to the top of the water mountain and met her there. She was the lady who rubbed nutrient jelly on the stray skis that had become orphans when their owners had lost their concentration and sunk straight down into the mountain where only the liqui-miners and the aqua-gnomes dwelled. The skis depended on this jelly in order to stay alive as their lines had been domesticated and were no longer able to hunt in the summer or drill down for fish when winter set in and the mountain turned to ice.
To Joe the Fox, she was the whole package, a beautiful young woman who cared for others. Problem was, she only loved Larry. As soon as he took off his water skis, she’d run screaming. But with the skis on, his proposal of marriage was accepted without hesitation.
So Joe the Fox had to leave his water skis on for the rest of his life in order to find true happiness. I mean in the car, on the shitter, everywhere he went.
But wouldn’t you? What am I saying? Of course not. That’s why you’re miserable