THE OTHER ANNIE
As of today, I have a nine year-old talent agent scouring the streets of New York City to find me some work. Her name is Annie, and she means fucking business. As I was waiting a table today - a nice husband, wife, and their daughter - I felt the daughter's eyes prying. No big deal. Obviously, I'm handsome. Pry all you want. But then, while I was offering a bowl of our delicious Tiramasu, the daughter interrupted my half-assed pitch with such assertiveness that only a child like her could possess.
"Are you an actor?" she inquired, cocking her head to the side in a manner that suggested I had better quit fuckin' around and give up the ghost already.
I paused. "How did you know?"
The mother interjected while the girl giggled. "She's got a keen eye for it."
I explained that I studied acting a little in college and that it is still on my short list of hopeful goals to achieve in my lifetime. In purely accidental condescension, I asked the girl if she was a professional actor. She shat all over me.
"I've done some commercials and local things around New York City."
"Damnnn bitch" I said, which actually came out as "Oh, that's awesome! You should hook me up! Wanna be my agent?"
The girl giggled. I think she thought I was joking. I think even I thought I was joking. When I look back, I was dead fucking serious. The mother told me I should move to NYC.
After I brought the check to the family, I asked the girl her name.
"Annie!" she replied, with the trademark enthusiasm and snark that only a nine year-old from New York City can possess.
"Well, Annie," I began, "You gotta go find me a job, okay?"
"Okay!" she replied, which sounded a lot more like "Fuck off!" in my head.
So, Annie, I don't know if you thought I was kidding when I asked you to be my agent. But I definitely wasn't. With your nine year-old charm and wit, I think you could really convince some people to give the 22 year-old guy you met in a restaurant a chance at stardom. Do me a solid, young jedi. The fate of my life is in your hands. Don't fuck it up, kid.
MY FRENCH-CANADIAN LOVER
This story is short, sweet, and full of sexual tension. I was waiting on a table of what I perceived to be elderly French-Canadians. But I'm terrible with accents, so for all I know, they were just Americans talking with their mouths full. But I'll put my money on French-Canadian. As I was asking what they needed me to box up for them, an elderly woman chimed in.
"Can you just box yourself up?" she politely asked, wearing a decidedly suggestive smile on her face.
"That'll cost extra," I joked, throwing up in my mouth between each forced chuckle. Wayyy extra. I thought.
So the nine year-olds love me and the 99 year-olds love me. Now I just need to concentrate on my own age group. That's where my agent comes in. You got an older sister, Annie? Hook me up, kid.
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