Claptrap

When the lights went down and the stage hands were setting up the next scene, everyone around me applauded. It was tentative applause, offered politely and without passion. Fake. I did not participate. I couldn’t. I tried, but my applause embarrassed me. So instead, I sat quietly in my seat, in the dark, staring straight ahead, dreading the next scene, mouthing words that no one could hear. THAT SUCKED, I said. THAT WAS BULLSHIT. But I sort of fluttered my hands a little so the woman on my right would feel the breeze and think that I was clapping too.

0 thoughts on “Claptrap

  1. I always sand the splinters off my chopsticks if they are the cheap kind.
    And I learned that habit in Tokyo, from genuine Japanese people.
    I’d think it far more rude to subject fellow diners to the sight of me yanking a splinter from the corner of my mouth.

  2. Although I enjoyed the whimsical mental image you conveyed in this post, I must take issue with the notion of your head ricocheting off Saturn. I am not a professional astronomer, but I believe that Saturn is one of the gas giants. As such it has no clearly defined surface. Instead, its atmosphere is made up of gases that grow ever more dense as one approaches the core, which may or may not be a rock or mineral substance. I bring this up so that I can further note that the term “gas giant” should never be used on a first date. In any context. Trust me. It is not easy being tall and tan and young and lovely.
    (Yes it is.)
    ((Meow!))

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