Charlie's Reunion

I have to be honest with you
When I first saw Chuck at the reunion
My first thought was--

Jesus Christ

I mean, Jesus Christ

The guy looked like shit

Jesus Christ

Granted, it had been twenty years

I had put on a few pounds
My wife had her face done
My buddy that I'd been on the Debate Team with
Had decided that he wanted to start wearing women's underwear
But Chuck--

That guy looked rough

I've been dead for sixteen years now
And I bet if I go back to the cemetery where they buried me
I could still find a few corpses
Looking better than Charlie did that night

Good thing we got to decide how we were going to come here tonight

I decided for the 'early twenties' look

Dapper, huh?

Yeah, I was a hot shit when I younger

But even that night at the reunion
When I was pushing forty
I still looked a lot better than Chuck

I couldn't get over it

Then I started hearing people whispering about him

About how he'd been married
And his wife had started banging his brother
And then his friend killed himself
And then he started drinking
And then his second wife left him
And his kid hates him
And he's teaching at the school
Which is--I mean, who teaches at the place they went to school?

Shoot me in the damn face first, right?

If I even took a step into my old high school
I'd probably throw up on my shoes
And this guy was going in there everyday
And teaching?

No wonder he looked like hell

I waited to see if he would go outside for some air
And when he did
I followed him out

We started up a conversation
Acted all chummy
Even though in high school
We didn't really talk
Aside from when I asked him to copy his homework
Everyday during homeroom

But I wouldn't really call that a friendship

'Chuck,' I said, 'What you gotta do is pull yourself together.  Look at you, man.  You're a mess.'

I proceeded to tell him
How he needed to grow a set
Get on with life
And start acting like an adult

'You're trapped in high school, man.  Don't you see how pathetic that is?  Now, I know you didn't ask for my advice--'

And then he held up his hand
And I stopped talking

He looked right at me
He smiled
He put his hand on my shoulder
And he said--

'You're fat.  Your wife looks like pulled pork.  Your best friend is wearing a bra, and my name isn't Chuck.  Have a good night.'

And then he walked away

Can you believe that asshole?

I mean, I'm sorry he's dead
But can you believe that asshole?

I know we're all supposed to say nice stuff about him, but I'm sorry

I don't have anything nice to say
About someone who can't take
Constructive criticism