Wallowing

“Hey whatcha up to?”

“Nothing”

“You seem down. You know, come to think of it, you don’t look so good.”

“I know.”

“And what is that all over you?”

“Self-pity.”

“What?”

“Self pity. I’m wallowing in my own self pity."

“I’ve heard people say that before but I don’t think your really suppose to cover yourself in slop.”

“It’s not slop. It’s self-pity. I produce it.”

“Oh. That’s odd.”

“It really helps with the whole mood. There’s nothing like a nice thick layer of putrid smelling body by-product to really help with the whole effect.”

“I could see why it would help. It’s like a gift of yours then?”

“Yea, but...[sigh] I’m probably not doing it right.”

“I’m sorry”

“It’s okay, I never do anything right. [sigh]”

“Wow, you really are wallowing in self pity. Maybe I can help. I find that sometimes when I talk about stuff it helps to make me feel better.”

“That sounds kinda of girly.”

“Oh.”

"Look, you can stay as long as you don’t try and cheer me up. Okay? I only want you to say that you 'feel sorry' and that 'I’ve really messed it up this time.'”

"If that's what you want. Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

“I think I’d rather just stay here feeling sorry for myself, covered in muck and smelling like a garbage heap. I think it’s more the mans way anyway.”

“Whatever you want....but...umm....”

“What?”

“Shouldn’t you have picked a more private place?”

“Why?”

“Well, because you're in the middle of the mall.”

“And?”

“People are staring. I mean you're not more than twenty feet from the food court. It’s the busiest place here!”

“You’ve never done this before, have you?”

“Done what?! Covered myself in muck and stood at the mall with my head down, smelling like a chicken farm, while total strangers pass by and stare at me? No. I guess I haven’t.”

“I guess I’m alone then.”

“Oh, please.”

“Look, if you can’t understand just leave. This is the way self pity works! You can’t wallow in self pity by your self.”

“Why?”

“Then nobody knows how bad you feel. You need public pity. It really helps to cement what a failure you are. And I told you I didn’t rub this stuff on myself, it’s a natural by-product I manufacture. Sort of my body’s way of telling me it’s time to start feeling bad for myself.”

“What happened that made you feel like this?”

“I don’t want a therapy session.”

“Just tell me.”

“I couldn’t install my new DVD player.”

“What?”

“I couldn’t get my new DVD player working.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know! The box said, ‘Easy Setup’ and ‘Step by Step Instructions’. I mean there were hardly any words, it was all just pictures!?”

“And? What happened”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t get it, so...”

"Yes?"

“So...I got a screwdriver....”

“And?”

"I opened it up and had a look.”

“You know that voids your warranty.”

“Thanks, I knew that. Anyway it just wouldn’t work and I thought I could fix it.”

“Did you fix it?”

“Oh I fixed it alright! I turned on the power and it burst into flames, igniting my entertainment center, melting my entire collection of DVD's and turning my girlfriends picture into a pile of smoking cinders. Then the fire spread to the wall...”

“Did you get it out?!”

“No. But the fire department did. It only took them about two hours or so.”

“Have you called your insurance company?”

“I’m between policies at the moment.”

“Wow, I’m sorry. I guess it couldn’t get much worse.”

“My girlfriend dumped me for letting her picture burn. Said something about me not really caring enough about her to keep precious things safe.”

“I see. Anything else?”

“No it was about that time that my skin started to muck up, and so...here I am.”

“Wow, you burned down your house, lost your girlfriend and had to admit to the fire department that you were too stupid to install a DVD player.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I can see why you’re here. You're an imbecile.”

“I know.”

“I guess I’ll leave you to it then...”