INT – BAR – NIGHT

Me: Goddammit.

Brother From Another Mother: Now what’s wrong?

Me: This is just ridiculous.

BFAM: What’s ridiculous?

Me: That we’re not married.

BFAM: Dude…I’m flattered as all hell, and you know I love you, but…

Me: Not to each other, you blowhole. That neither one of us is married. To anybody. Why the hell are we single?

BFAM: Um…because we want to be? Since when do you want to be married?

Me: Since…I dunno. Since I decided I’m sick of being alone, I guess. It’s just weird. I was talking to my friend who works at the prison yesterday, and he starts telling me about the parade of gorgeous women who show up every week to visit the prisoners. He had this stack of ridiculous pictures that he confiscated from the prisoners’ mail because they’re nekid. And these chicks show up every week. And they get married! They get married through the glass, on the phone. And it’s not like they were a couple and then he got locked up and she’s being loyal and supportive for a year or two while he does his time. Nope. These are guys that have twenty years or more. Life sentences sometimes! They meet these guys while they’re already behind bars, visit them regularly, send ’em nekid pictures, and get goddamn married.

BFAM: Maybe that’s the appeal. Maybe they don’t like the idea of having a husband who’s around all the time, that they have to see every morning when they wake up, that they have to make dinner for, all of that. Maybe they like the idea of having a husband locked in a box somewhere. They get to say they’re married, but they don’t have to deal with the hassle of an actual committed relationship because hubby is kept in a steel cage far away and there is no possibility that he’s just going to suddenly show up and cramp her style this weekend.

Me: Hmmm.

BFAM: But I see your point. Shit, even Hitler had a wife.

Me: Can you believe that? Dude woke up every day, combed his goofy hair and his even goofier mustache, went to work, screamed and yelled at absolutely everybody, oversaw the slaughter of millions of people, and then went home to little Mrs. Hitler who had dinner waiting in the bunker. “Hiiiii Adolf…how was work? Did you meet your quota? Here…let’s get you out of those pants.”

BFAM: It does seem pretty unfair.

Me: I mean, I know I can be a very serious pain in the ass, and am certainly not everybody’s cup of tea, but I don’t have to be kept in a goddamn cage. I haven’t committed a single crime against humanity. No genocide. Nothing.

BFAM: It’s true. You’re not as bad as Hitler. You’ve got much better hair.

Me: Thank you. [drinks]

BFAM: [drinks] Osama bin Ladin was married.

Me: Shit, he had three wives with him in that compound. Used ’em as shields when the shit hit the fan.

BFAM: Maybe you should try that. Kill a few thousand people, and then say, “Okay ladies…I am now the world’s most wanted murderer. There are entire squadrons of drones flying around the globe, around the clock, looking for my ass, so I’m going to hole up in an itty bitty shitty room at the top of a compound in Fecal Creek, Pakistan, and never go outside. There will be no phone, no internet, and no cable. We’re just gonna sit around and eat goats and watch porn and videotapes of me preaching hate. Who’s in?”

Me: Why not? It’s worth shot.

BFAM: Charles Manson wasn’t married, I don’t think.

Me: Not because he didn’t have the option. Charley was just not the marrying kind. But he had a harem, any of whom or all of which would have married him and had his babies if given the slightest chance. Here again…dude’s locked up, on trial and facing the death penalty for orchestrating the butchering of a pregnant woman and about a dozen other totally innocent people in an attempt to kick-start Armageddon via a race war. And just in case there was someone out there who had the slightest doubt that he wasn’t the very incarnation of shitbag, he carved a swastika on his forehead. And what happens? The ladies in his harem literally crawl to the courthouse every day, like they’re making a pilgrimage. He tells them to shave their heads…bam: they do it.

BFAM: Again, perhaps you should try it.

Me [to the bartendress]: Hey Mariah…will you shave your head for me?

Mariah: Fuck off.

Me: Wait, what about now?

Mariah: What the hell are you doing?

Me: Drawing a swastika on my forehead.

Mariah: You’re fucking nuts.

BFAM: Dude, you’re not doing a very good job. That’s just kind of an lightning bolt.

Me: Well feel free to help me out here.

BFAM: Here…give me that pen. Jesus…nope, just looks like a crossed out lightning bolt.

Me: You suck. Mariah! What about now?

Mariah: Die in a fire.

Me: Okay, forget shaving your head. Wanna get married?

Mariah: [displays middle finger]

Me: Balls.

BFAM: Saddam Hussein was married.

Me: Yeah, yeah, yeah. What about Idi Amin? He was a goddamn cannibal.

BFAM: Old Idi did like to party… let’s check. [manipulates phone][drinks]

Me: [drinks]

BFAM: Mmmm…yep. Says here he was married to a woman named Sarah.

Me: Son of a bitch.

BFAM: Who else….oh. Says here Pol Pot was married. Twice.

Me: Christ. Is this coming off?

BFAM: What? Oh no. You’re just smooshing it around. Now you look like a wanna-be Hindu with no depth perception who can’t draw. The Harry Potter lighting bolt was better.

Me: Dammit…

BFAM: [drinks]

Me: [drinks]

BFAM: [drinks]

Me: [drinks]

BFAM: Here. What about mail order?

Me: Mail order? They don’t still do that, do they?

BFAM: Of course they do. Look. You can choose. What do you want: South America, Viet Nam, or Ukraine?

Me: None of the above. I am not paying for someone to…who’s that?

BFAM [handing his phone to Me]: That, according to the website, is Svetlana.

Me: She certainly seems happy.

BFAM: Says here she’d be a lot happier in America with a ring on her finger.

Me: I’m sure. How much?

BFAM: Doesn’t say.

Me: Of course not.

BFAM: Look at this one. “Consuela,” from Columbia. I bet she’d marry you.

Me: Never mind that. Look at this guy.

BFAM: What guy?

Me: Him, on the TV. That dickhead that just gassed all those kids in Syria. Bashir Assad.

BFAM: Jesus. That’s terrible.

Me: He married?

BFAM: Let’s ask the phone.

Me: [drinks]

BFAM: Yep.

Me: Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch! What about Caligula?

BFAM: Oooh…that’s a good one. Let’s look. [drinks]

Me: [drinks]

BFAM: Uh-oh. Shit. Yeah…he was married four times.

Me: Goddamn Caligula was married four times?

BFAM: To four different women. I’m pretty sure they were all his cousins, though.

Me: This is just ridiculous.