Last night a woman friend said to me, "You're dangerous, Kilgore."

Words and terms used to describe me in the past include: hesitant, shy, introverted, bookish, withdrawn, "got his goddam head in the clouds," self-effacing, nervous, uptight, safe, very safe, safer than an adorable fuzzy duckling drenched in nonoxynol-9 spermicide and wrapped in a condom reinforced with inch-thick steel bands. But never "dangerous."

I rather like this idea of a Dangerous Kilgore Trout. I stayed up late last night striking Dangerous poses in front of the mirror. For example, I would stand sideways and slump my shoulders to indicate boredom and Dangerous detachment. I also tried leaning against things with my hands in my pockets and a sullen expression on my face. HELPFUL TIP: If you're trying to be Dangerous, I suggest not leaning against an open door until you push it all the way back against the wall. Scraping your elbow on the carpet will not contribute to your Dangerous attitude.

On my way to the store to get hydrogen peroxide and some toothpicks to dangle jauntily from my lip, I practiced saying Dangerous things like, "If you're gonna bring it, then bring it," and "Let's rumble," and "Yeah, I'm Dangerous, baby." At first I said these things in my regular voice, but as I became more comfortable I started using a scratchy, Dirty Harry voice. I ended up coughing a lot, because talking that way makes my throat itch, and today I have a sore throat. I guess I'll pick up some lemon tea on the way home. But that's the price you pay for being Dangerous like me.

+posted by Lawrence @ 4/29/2004 11:55:00 AM