Today I went to a very fancy house to drop off some catering. While I was carrying a large tray of food, wearing a hat and t-shirt with the restuarant logo and name, a woman pulled up and asked, “Are you the caterer?”

Think about this scene for a moment. I’m covered in words and pictures. I’m carrying a tray of food.

“Are you the caterer?”

Was that some sort of trick question? Who the fuck did she think I was? Teddy Roosevelt on a hunting expedition? Joseph Stalin on the run?

[aside: “Joseph Stalin on the run” could be a good name for something. A punk song maybe.]

A murdering bastard with a penchant for courtesy? Always bring food to a killing. It’s most polite to kill people only when they have full stomachs.

Or maybe I was just some guy who likes to carry food around? “No. No. I’m not the ‘caterer’, whatever that is. Ever since I was a kid I loved to walk around carrying food…You mean, people do this for money? I could have been making money all these years?! Oh, nice lady! Where were you so long ago?! Stupid wasted life! So many good times tossed away because I didn’t know. I could have been carrying food to people all these years and they would have paid me for it! DAMN DAMN DAMN!”

It reminds me of a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon where Calvin was hammering nails into the coffeetable. His mother enters and screams “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

Calvin replies, “Is that a trick question?”

Or some such thing because I’m doing this from memory and I haven’t slept in 36 hours.