The Dentdale Diaries
Chapter FOUR:
Joe Joe “JOSEPH” Austin
Joseph always smelled good.
No, he didn’t smell good, he smelled great! It was an indefinable scent, very clean, but
with a little spice added. It was like
the smell of coconut oil that can’t be washed out after a day at the
beach. It was the smell of good pipe
tobacco, and freshly shined shoes.
Maybe it was the scent of line-dried sheets that had been washed in lavender. Whatever it was, and however it was
achieved, one knew that it wasn’t an accident.
Joseph paid good money (and lots of it) to craft an image
that was at once impeccably manicured, and at the same time, casual, with just
a hint of carelessness. His facial
features were balanced, attractive, but not precious, or without flaw. His flaws were flaws, but they were flaws
that perfectly suited, and complimented this face.
Joseph was no longer young, but he was certainly not
old. He had reached an age: an age of
ripeness; that perfect time in a man’s
life when his muscles are no longer taught, but just before gravity took hold
and began drawing that musculature towards the ground.
He was round where a man should be round, and square where
he should be square. Geometry teachers
would often use Joseph’s perfect shape to explain complicated theories to
classes filled with giggling girls, jealous young men, and some giggling
jealous young men as well!
Making matters worse, was that Joseph was a nice guy. He was sincere, funny, intelligent, and
capable of original thought. He was
tender, and could always be counted upon to cry at the appropriate moments in
any given chick-flick. Even his tears were perfect, not huge torrents of water
gushing like a Houston bayou after a rain storm, more like a tiny trickle
coming down a granite slope in Pennsylvania.
It was once reported that a Kleenex that he once used to wipe his eyes
with was returned smelling of rose petals.
He was stern when needed.
He listened to all arguments and contentions with a wisdom previously attributed
to Moses. He would suffer no fools, but
loved foolishness. He hated the haters
(but hated himself for having hatred of anything).
He was musical, literate, and athletic. But he was never ostentatious or showy with
his talents. Whether he was playing
piano, or bouncing across a soccer field he exhibited a sort of grace.
Most people squirm when someone (particularly men) read
poetry out loud. Women and men both
adored Joseph’s dulcet tones and often implored him to read poetry out loud. Whether it was Walt Whitman, or Maya
Angelou, Joseph’s recitations brought new meaning, insight and poignancy to the
poem. He laughed at his own poetry
(often calling it derivative). It wasn’t
quite original stuff, but it wasn’t exactly plagiarized either. It was the context, the setting, or knowing
the genesis of Joseph’s poems that made one pause, think, reflect, and admire
the sagacity of his works.
He drank not too much, and not too little. He had no real opinion about those who
abused alcohol, or other mood altering substances. Yes, he had smoked marijuana, and yes he had
inhaled. But he wasn’t the type to
purchase such substances, nor was he one to decline the offer of a little toke
now and then.
He was one of the rare people with who could be left alone
in a room that boasted eight lines of cocaine; with the host knowing that at
least seven-and half-lines would be there when they returned.
He was terrible in bed – but great on the floor. He needed no penthouse filled with adult toys
to pleasure his companions. He took
(and gave) his passions where he found them.
He took care to insure that his partners were satisfied to completion –
in fact, multiple completions, and then he allowed himself his indulgence.
His nocturnal adventures would occasionally find him in
situations of mixed gender, but he escaped any suggestion or hint of gayness.
Straight as an arrow was our man Joseph.
He had but one little, annoying, constantly occurring,
personality disorder:
HE COULD NOT
WOULD NOT
AND NEVER…
ARRIVED FOR ANYTHING ON TIME!!!!
It was predicted that he would be late for his own
funeral! In fact (well, that’s probably a tale left for the end of our story)………
Joseph never broke hearts, because no one ever truly gave
their heart to Joseph. Mostly because
those who had placed their hearts on the table found themselves at a table for
one! By the time Joseph had arrived ‘at
table’ those hearts were placed back in their gift boxes, to be delivered to
more punctual suitors.
A recent blind date(s) found Joseph sharing his
wonderfulness with those other than his planned date. He had the best of intentions, and did all
that he could (or really, all that he thought
he should) to arrive for his date in something close to the appointed
time. Unfortunately for his date (the long suffering heroine of another
story: Beth) the peripatetic Joseph’s path was detoured by situations and
people, and to people and situations that commanded (not politely requested)
his attentions and ministrations.
By the time he had satisfied the needs of those who had
called upon him, his lovely, charming, educated and frankly totally hot date
(Beth) had flown the coup from which Joseph had asked her to perch.
Joseph was truly embarrassed about his ‘failure-to-lunch’ and eagerly looked forward to his next nesting
with Beth. Arrangements were made for
the date, and it was Joseph’s misfortune to have forgotten that he had previous
(long-standing) arrangement with his attorney at the same place, same time.
Joseph’s mother had wisely taught him that anything a man
could do, a woman could better, longer, and harder – so Joe Joe (Mom Austin’s nickname
for her son) had hired a female attorney.
Beth had correctly spied another woman’s name to Joseph’s at
the restaurant, and incorrectly assumed that Joseph had aligned another ‘back-up’
date. Had other events not commanded
Beth to abruptly exit the restaurant, she too, might have met an attorney with
whom business could be conducted.
Missed opportunities abound in human life. It is the road not taken that causes us
pause. Would Joseph and Beth found
eternal happiness?
We know that Beth is happy, and we presume that Joseph has
found his eternal happiness!
Beth was driving past Joseph’s restaurant just as Joseph
exited his brand new sports car. Beth’s heart raced as she clipped the car’s
bumper with her brand new SUV. She was
excited to have made contact with Joseph, and as she sped off, she threw the on-looking
crowd her brand new Hermes scarf (bought in Paris) to cover Joseph’s perfect,
symmetrical (now deceased) face that boasted one new flaw:
BETH’S MICHELIN TIRE TREAD!
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