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| Blogs > rm_debluvz2fck > Another Whisper In The Dark |
There's Something About Marcus
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There's Something About Marcus Ever meet someone who made you want to flee every time you saw them? Not necessarily to the point of Godzilla in Tokyo, but something similar? There's something about Marcus. To be fair, the fear and need to flee was not an instant reaction to this self-declared magnanimous character. The first impression was merely odd. He was standing in an area reserved for people who were a part of my organization. He was a stranger to me, and I wondered at his audacity for simply invading our space. I didn't approach him but rather maintained my distance. When the mentally unstable wander into your space, it is best not to startle them. I met Marcus a short while later, when a coworker arrived who was able to make introductions (someone who knew who the hell he was, a key to the meeting). He was wearing a cap with a circular<b> emblem </font></b>of what I understood to be the German flag. But, with prior military experience, I knew that a unit from any military could have an<b> emblem </font></b>reminiscent of a flag. I proceeded to ask questions to ascertain the origins of said hat and individual. A normal human being would have stated that the hat was obtained while in the German military. I was not dealing with a normal human being. The round about conversation went through the issuance of the hat, that he was born in a hospital, and heaven only knows what other rabbit holes I wandered to come to the true and final conclusion that I was right in my guess. The nut apparent was German, Two other people had a similar curiosity regarding the origins of said Marcus. One entered the rabbit hole, again much to the delight of the rabbit. Half an hour later, he learned that the rabbit was German. The other person had dealt with German men previously and asked a rather pointed question, German or Austrian? He turned pink from frustration or embarrassment. I'm not certain. But it became a life's goal that would later arise. Seeing Marcus at the office became a scenario that I dreaded. Being sent to pick him up for a meeting and then deliver him home afterward was awkward. Marcus could talk about anything or nothing, with equal authority. And he had a way of unnerving me that bordered on familial. My sisters are the only people who can be that annoying, and they made it into an art years back. The only difference was that I could sometimes introduce topics that would be fun for discussion. With Marcus, you were just dragged under the train. To be fair, the cringe worthy factor did fade. Though I explained that I wasn't the person he should be talking to about any number of things he brought up regarding the organization for which I worked, this remained a thorn in the side of our interaction. What grew to be amusing was the odd occasion where I, like the grand dame of the German or Austrian question, brought about the pink transformation. Truth be told, I knew that my skill in achieving Marcus pinkening was through embarrassment rather than frustration. This sometimes took great planning and careful maneuvering. When such a situation came up, it was more than a delight to experience. My favorite pinkenings were a simple one regarding an ethnic slur he used against my lineage and a declaration that someone was his girlfriend. I couldn't pick a favorite. They're like . You love them both, but perhaps one is a little better at sports than the other. I'll start with my charming . Marcus informed me that Germans called British people island monkeys. This occurred in a text, and I was able to play it off without hurling any insults or ethnic slurs back in his direction. Not my style. But I did proceed in buying my delightfully playful purse, one from Kipling, a brown bag with little brown monkeys all over it and a monkey key chain. Showing it off at work, I proudly explained the origins of the bag in relation to the island monkey comment. Marcus pinkened. My All-Star was a trap that Marcus fell into but which required extra time to be realized. While helping me in my area (a task he wasn't compelled to undertake but was appreciated for doing), he joked about all of the volunteers he was recruiting for the organization being his girlfriends. I mentioned the particulars about one such volunteer, a man I had not yet met but who I had heard about on occasion, and asked if he was one of Marcus' girlfriends. Rather than be caught in the immediate and obvious trap, Marcus responded in the affirmative. The larger trap was immediately set for another day. I had the opportunity to meet with said girlfriend at an organizational event some time later. He was a nice man, intelligent and open in my estimation. I took it that he would appreciate the trap that was about to be sprung. Prior to Marcus leaving with said girlfriend, I mentioned that one of Marcus' girlfriends was at the event. Curiosity was apparent in the girlfriend's eyes, and a smile came over his face when I explained that he was the girlfriend. Marcus pinkened and quickly rushed out of the building with his girlfriend in tow. While it is difficult to determine which of my is most dear to my heart, I do still have the purse and will be taking it to the girlfriend's birthday party tonight. I might get a chance to explain the purse yet again to another group of Marcus' friends. Or, potentially, to the dreaded Mrs. Marcus. Let the pinkening begin! |
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