Transcript for the Piece Audio version of Such a Donkey

I recently moved to New York, and reconnected with Ben, whom I had not seen in about five years, and I was happy when his girlfriend, Sara, invited me to his birthday party. It would be a good chance to meet some new people. Plus, Ben is like the easiest person on the planet to shop for. I could get him anything related to bikes, trains, boats, high performance sports cars -- photography -- and he'd love it. In fact, just a few days earlier, he had told me about a crazy model train store near times square, so I thought it would be easy to get him something from there. But then I thought, well, maybe a model train is too obvious.

A few days passed, and I thought, man, I really gotta get Ben something. A few more days pass. a few more. all of a sudden it's ben's birthday, and time for the party.

I have been renovating my apartment, so I am covered in gypsum dust and paint. with no present. and no clean clothes. so I take a shower, and hop on my bike. I just decided that I'd grab a card for him along the way, and that would have to do. I mean, most people probably won't even bring a present. it's not like we're a bunch of childres at the skating rink eating cake.

So I find a card that's like something you'd give your grandmother with all these fancy letters and water color flowers and sparkles or whatever, which is funny, albeit totally obvious, and on the inside I write:

"Ben,

I'm proud of you. You know some people don't make it to 26. They get shot or caught up in drugs or something. Congratulations, Jason."

Which you may recognize from the documentary Hoop Dreams, where one of the kids is having his 18th birthday and his mom says that is a really big achievement and she is proud him because so many kids get shot or caught up in drugs or something.

So I have my card, and I ring the bell, and Ben answers the door looking cool as shit.

"Mr. Rails! I am so glad you could make it, come in."

He's wearing green docksiders and a sweater with a pin of a submarine on it and he's got this really styling beard and he's got this skipper-slash-professor-slash-indie rocker thing happening. meanwhile, I am wearing these kind of dressy black pants and some shoes with broken laces and a red hooded sweatshirt, which looks ridiculous, but is the only thing I could find to wear that did not smell like B. O. and paint.

I hand him the envelope, and we walk into the kitchen. Ben places the envelope on the edge of a table that is piled high with real presents.

Ben's girlfriend has bought pizza for everyone, so we all sit in front of the television, eating pizza and chatting. All the dudes are sporting stylish beards and the ladies all look like a variation on either joan jett or pat been a tar. As people finish eating, they gradually filter into other rooms while I sit and watch tv like a geek.

At one point I grab a picture on the table next to me, and it's a photograph of ben and a bunch of his friends with their awesome single speed bikes at Coney Island. Of course, ben is the raddest of the bunch. he's at least four inches taller than anyone else in the picture and he's not looking at the camera, and he just looks cool.

I don't know about you, but when I see a short, balding, schlemiel walking down the street with a sexy female who by all appearances is out of his league. I think that this guy either, one, is rich as shit, two, has a donkey dick, or three, is one charming motherfucker. you know? there must really be something special about this guy if he gets to hang out with her. and I always want him to be the charming thing. because that's the only chance for me.

I'm beyond broke.

I owe money.

I'm so far from macho that if I even try to grow a stylish beard, it just ends up looking like my mouth is dirty. so that leaves me with the charming option.

And that's how I feel about ben a little bit. Where I am the bald dude and he is the hot female. I mean, I think he's really smooth. He's not an artist or a rocker or anything like that. he works at the new york historical society and he carries drawings of old ships around. you know? but he's just a really rad guy, and I want him to like me because that reflects something positive about me. which is why even if I am too lazy slash-self-centered to get the man a birthday present, then I hope that a smart assed comment in a card that looks something like you would get from your grandmother might make him chuckle.

Anyway, I put the photo back on the table and realize that the only people left in the room are me and joe and monica, who are making out on the couch directly across from me. So I walk into ben's room, where he is talking to a guy that I have met before, but I can't recall his name.

"Hi," I say.

"I'm Jason." Yeah, good to see you again. "What is your name again?" "It's Mason" "Oh right" I feel like such a jerk. I not only fail to buy the host a birthday present, I also am unwilling to remember this guy's name that rhymes with my own.

"Hey, Jason, check out what mason got me for my birthday." Oh wow! oh wow. it's a model train car. it's a model train car that mason has painted to look like it got bombed with graffiti. And it looks perfect. I mean it really looks like a crazy great graffiti job in miniature. And in these really blocky, graffiti letters it says, "Ben," all along the side of the car. Damn, Mason, nice work. thanks.

"He did the other side, too."

He did the other side, too.

I turn it around, and same deal. graffiti bombed with these crazy blocky letters, "It says fuel. Fuel is our friend from college who was a graffiti artist." Oh. "he got killed when we were in school. He and his friends were playing with a shotgun. The gun went off accidentally and shot him point blank in the face"

"oh. wow."

"that's him."

I turn around and there's a photo of this kid in a train yard with some spray cans. I don't think there are any other pieces of art in the entire room, but right above the bed where ben sleeps every night is an 18 by 24 black and white photograph of ben's friend who was murdered before he reached 26, and I am holding a model train car with his name on it and I am completely dumbstruck because the only thought I am capable of holding in my brain at the moment is, "I gotta get that card." no meaningful words of sympathy or the appropriate explanation of the irony of this moment, just. "fuck." and. "I gotta get that card."

I excuse myself to get some water in the kitchen, but there's Ben's girlfriend and two other girls sitting at the table around my card, so I play it cool. I fill up my water and try to move the conversation into another room, but they're having none of it. I move back to the tv room, which at this point is completely empty, hoping that others will start to gravitate in my direction, but no such luck. What is worse, people start leaving through the only exit in the apartment, which is in the kitchen, which is where Ben is now hanging out with the girls at the table. One by one and two by two they go until it is Ben and his girlfriend and Mason and a few others in the kitchen.

and me.

in the tv room.

So I join them, and the whole time, I want to address the card situation with ben, but I cannot find a good place to dive into the stream of the conversation. Eventually, I announce my departure. Ben walks me to the door and shakes my hand and actually says. "Mr. Rails, thanks for coming to my party. have a safe ride home, and I look forward to reading that carrd." "yes. ok, happy birthday"

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