Mac Johnston. Poet. Scholar. Death Knight

Liberty Tax preparation needs to fire their marketing team. I’m not sure “Humiliated Black Man, dressed as Statue of Liberty, waving at traffic” is as effective as they think it is.

(Quick skit on the above’s Job interview)

BOSS : Well you’re not high and it seems that you have a first and last name as well. This makes you somewhat overqualified but, let’s run with it. Are you familiar with Halloween?

PROSPECTIVE: Yea dats dat holiday where we take our pillows out da cases and let  people down by not showing up in costume than white-guilting them into gettin candy anyway?

BOSS: PRECISELY! However, this time you will not be getting any candy. Your reward for dressing or not dressing up will come in the form of minimum wage. Now, second question, how are you at waving your appendages?

PROSPECTIVE: Pretty good, I guess.

BOSS: Excellent. Now, basically what this job requires is that you put this green dress on along with this pointy hat; stand on the corner and wave at people trying to drive their cars. And than, by the grace of God, they will enter this facility and let me figuratively bend them over by doing something for them so menial, a monkey could do in his sleep.

PROSPECTIVE: What I gotta dress up like Big Bird for? Wavin’ at cars and shit?

BOSS: First of all you’re dressed as the Statue of Liberty which stands tall and proud on Ellis island and reminds people to do their taxes. Second, Because it’s scientifically proven to drive tax preparation sales. Did I tell you this job also has benefits? One of them being that, while you cannot use our restrooms you can crap your pants and get away with it carefree because of the full body coverage from the gown.

PROSPECTIVE: Win.

Jessie awkwardly asked me how I would describe my DongQuixote…I could only muster the following, yet perfect apologue….

Warrior Poet.

For gods sake why?

For gods sake who?

Why are you flailing your fists in the air in front of the mirror like a baboon?

You gangly fifty year old mess of a man.

Why must you alienate the rest of us just trying to workout and mind our own business?

This is not a boxing ring nor has it ever been. This is Planet Fitness. Quite possibly the most flamboyantly colored, average joe ridden place on earth. Not Super Knockout Fisticuffs Mcgavins’ House of Punch nothingness.

Is it to impress the over the hill soccer moms? Or the barely legal teenagers? Have they been so fascinated by your pugilist brawn that they proposition bedtime?

I can tell you one thing is for sure..When you fight against nothing, you always lose.

Do pushups like a normal person. Stop whacking away at your dignity.

Love,

Mac

Back in the fifth grade I had a very nasty chemistry teacher named Ms. Von Klempt. We all called the class “Cheminazi” because of how brutish and mean she acted towards her students. It was a running joke among my classmates to see who could let out the biggest fart during her lectures, as our way of ‘sticking it to the man’. The louder and longer the better. It was so nice to break the monotony of her speech by hearing that old Bronx cheer. “Now students I want you to get out your books and turn to the page about the basic structure of an (PFFFFFFFFFFFFFROOOOOMMMMP)….Oh my good lord! Which one of you filthy rascals was it?” and everyone would break out in to gregarious laughter at her stupefied reaction.

Now I had a reputation for being somewhat shy and collected. I was always a good student, but I so longed to be accepted and admired in the larger social circles as any child certainly does. So one day I planned the ultimate fart. I would eat nothing for breakfast and lunch but eggs and lettuce, and chase those with Mountain Dew and beef jerky for snacktime. So by the time Von Klempt’s class rolled around, my buttcheeks would be prim and ready.

After class began I had been saving the monstrosity that had been building up in my intestines quite uncomfortably for the past two periods and was ready to let it rip at moments noticed. I feared that if I leaned to one side, or sat down to quickly I may let it go pre emptively and ruin the whole moment. This was my time to shine and I wasn’t going to let myself or classmates down. She began her lecture and after about ten minutes I felt I was ready to explode, waiting for the right moment. I glanced around the room to see the blank stares of bored faces lethargically looking off into space, waiting for someone or something to break the monotony. I braced myself for what was about to come as this rip would probably go down in history and my name would echo as legend amongst the hallways for the rest of the year.

I spread my legs a tiny bit and heard a little squeak, Like the rock that falls from the dam before the whole thing gives way. I counted down in my head (3,2,1) and what happened next could not be dreamt by man or animal. It was the loudest and juciest I had ever heard, like an orchestral climax, you could hear the build up and crescendo. I may have even lifted off my chair a little. Some kids covered their ears and noses, one girl started to cry. Ms. Von Klempt turned around and became so red in the face, so much built up and bottled anger/angst she was unable to unleash it and passed out from the emotional downpour. One student ran to call the nurse while the others just stared, unable to cope with what had just happened.

The class looked like a fallout shelter, and I was beginning to become disturbed to the fact that smell wasn’t going away. I became aware of my pants feeling a little bit heavy and a certain gooey sensation between my thighs. Much to my dismay and excitement, I pooped my pants. Not only was this disgusting, it was also incriminating. There was no need to brag to my fellow classmates because they saw me start to waddle towards the bathroom, with a trail of fecal matter scattered behind me. It turned out the thing I thought would rocket me into grade school stardom had ended up doing just the opposite in the end.

After Von Klempt came to, the punishment was dealt, I was sent to the nurse’s, than the principal and they called my parents to pick me up from school, and bring a fresh pair of pants. Now until this day anytime I see anyone from that class they make fart noises with their mouths or pretend to waddle as if they were carrying a load. You could say I learned my lesson that day, I found out that social contracts aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. What I thought was the accepted way of life for a small group was not the same for a larger society. I learned to be happy with myself and not expect approval from others. Mostly because they all resented me and called me “brown trousers”. I suppose this whole story comes full circle when I returned home and found a twenty dollar bill in the pants that were poopy.