rough sketchings and dumb bodies

he wasn't a particularly funny person. but he was always thinking of jokes. he didn't know why he did it. but he did. maybe it was because he loved the attention he received when he told a good one. maybe it was just the way his mind worked.

once he thought of a joke that was so good he decided to write a story about it. the story was published in a fairly obscure literary journal and somehow attracted the attention of a big-deal hollywood movie producer. the big-deal hollywood movie producer decided that the story was so good it should be turned into a big-deal hollywood movie. the man was ecstatic. he fantasized about who would star in the movie based on his story. there were a couple actors who he really liked and some he didn't like so much but were household names. he thought that, even if the actors he didn't like so much starred in his movie, he'd probably grow to like them because they were starring in his movie and he might even meet them at a press junket or an extravagant party that he could only imagine because he'd never been to one.

mostly: he thought about how people were going to see the movie--the movie based off a story he wrote--and this excited him very much. he wondered if it would become a well-regarded movie--either by critics or the movie-going public but, hopefully, both. maybe it would become a classic.

he imagined being interviewed about his story. he imagined being that important. the interviewer would be a bookish looking man--kind but detached. he would be a very prominent writer from new york--the type a guy who threw around latin phrases and allusions to the minor works of john updike in his reviews. he would wear glasses there were very large but still fashionable and dehumanizing. dehumanizing in the sense that they made it hard for anyone--but especially the man--to see the person beyond the lenses.

he imagined being asked about the popularity of the single joke around which the entire plot of the story revolves--the single joke that initially inspired the man to write the story.

"you know, i can't walk down the street anymore without someone quoting that joke," he imagined the interviewer saying.

"well, it's funny," he'd reply. "it's like--have you ever told a really good joke at the office? so good that it circulates from person to person for weeks? everyone asking you to tell it again or coming up to you and re-telling it to you, even, then laughing incredulously like they can't understand how something can be that funny. it's like that. but on a global scale. the water-cooler joke that reached the world."

he imagined saying this but saying it better, watching himself say it on tv or reading it in a magazine and then seeing a picture of himself next to the article, all-teeth and smiling, warm and inviting.

he imagined all these things but none of them happened. the movie tanked at the box office. people hated it. so did the critics. it was considered the worst movie ever made. anytime someone referenced it, the man cringed. it was an eternal source of shame. he told one really bad joke and he didn't know why. he wasn't a very funny person.