Page 82 - Taming Your Gremlin A Surprisingly Simple Method for Getting Out of Your Own Way (Rick Carson)_Neat

I stood facing Sally with my thumbs hung in the front pockets of my
Levi’s and my shoulders hunched forward in an attempt to give maximum
expansion to my neck and look happy-go-lucky at the same time. My feet

were parallel and placed a little wider than shoulder-length apart. Great
stance. Great act. Then, whammo! From out of nowhere, she zapped me. A
straight shot to my bravura. Sally looked at me, puzzled, and asked, “Why
are you standing like that?”

My breathing stopped. How’d she know I was standing “like that”? Was
I that transparent? I thought I looked loose as a goose, muscular, cool, and
kind of tough. Could she tell I was faking it? Could she tell I was flexing
my neck to the point of impending paralysis?

There I stood. Caught like a deer in the headlights. I held my bluff.

What could I say, “Oh, I’m just flexing my neck and trying to act like a Big
Dog so that you’ll let me tongue your ear again soon”? So, I maintained my
pose. Full flex. My armpits started dripping, and I could feel my neck
muscles cramping up.

“Like what?” I mumbled, bobbing my head up and down, faking a
“What kind of stupid question is that?” look.

“Like that, Rick. You’re standing funny. You look tense or something,”

she said. I tried to look unaffected, nonchalant, sort of intensely sullen, like
Marlon Brando in On the Waterfront. I continued bobbing my head around
all the while, looking from side to side, then up to the sky, then back to her.
A ploy. My feeble attempt to debunk her half-baked notion that I was
anything less than naturally natural. Then our eyes met. The moment of
truth. She wasn’t fooled.

Panicked and embarrassed, I froze. My gonads skittered upward,
seeking shelter. My Big Dog act was on the line. My manhood was on the

chopping block and the axe was in Sally’s hand. It was fight, flight, or fess-
up time. Fessing up was out of the question. I sighed, threw my head back,
and sort of rolled my eyes. It worked for Brando; it could work for me. “I
gotta split,” I said. Then I turned and headed slowly for my car. It seemed
like a very long walk.