See, Cincinnati, here’s the thing: I’m coming to do an appearance at Joseph-Beth Booksellers tomorrow, June 8, at 7pm. Coincidentally, a friend of mine from college is coming into Cincinnati and she offhandedly noted she heard I was going to be in town to do my performing monkey bit, so of course I told her she should come. She, probably just to be polite, said yes.
And then it hit me: What if she shows up to this thing and no one else does? After years of me pretending to be a big shot author, she will think I am finally revealed to be the bloated gasbag of empty brag that everyone in college always suspected I was. And then she’ll tell everyone we know on Facebook, and then, well. It’s all over then.
So, Cincinnati. Normally I wouldn’t ask you for something, especially since I never did pay you back that $20 for gas money back in ’93, and I know that’s still a thing for you (which you should let go of, man, seriously. It’s been, like, two decades). But even so: Hey, could you all just come down the the Joseph-Beth at 7 tomorrow? Please? All of you? Like, the entire city of you? Because that would really get me out of a jam.
Come on, don’t look at me like that. You know I would do it for you. Because that’s the bond we have, Cincinnati. And anyway, you don’t want me to look bad in front of my friend, do you? Do you? No? See.
So see you tomorrow, Cincinnati. Oh, and when you see my friend from college, totally don’t tell her I begged you to come. Just, you know, be chill. Like you do. Thanks.
