Being Richard Karn

At a Cancun nightclub, a fifty year-old man seated at the bar fingers the fun-size umbrella in his pisco sour. He is alone, smiling, and thinking to himself…


Yessir, yessir! B.P.K. in the house! Got myself a damn tasty pisco sour, the wet t-shirt contest is only half an hour away, and DJ Natural Disaster is jivin real fresh. Too bad he stopped playing Maroon 5, though. “Hey DJ ‘N.D.,’ let’s hear more ‘songs about Jane!’ Come on!”

Come on! Hahaha, yessir, ol’ B.P.K. is lookin’ at a pretty fine night tonight. Wellll…what do we have here? I think my night just got better. Anybody who knows squat about B.P.K. knows he likes the brunettes. Admiral, this is Lieutenant Big Poppa: Deploying Charm Missiles…now.

“Hello, Miss. Might I buy you a drink? My name is—Miss? Hello?”

Man, that music sure is loud. She probably didn’t hear me.

Or she’s just rejecting you.

Shut up. Just…shut it. She obviously didn’t hear Big Poppa, because if she did hear me, I’d be talking to her right now, making her regret it took so much of her life to find me. Here we go: another brunette angel approaches. And what is that I hear? Is it…oh yes, it is! That Black Guy Peace song about humping. DJ Natural Disaster, you sure know how to set Le Mood. Lower your defenses, mi’lady: the U.S.S. Big Poppa requests permission to board.

“Hello, Gorgeous! The name’s Richard, but my friends call me ‘Dick.’ They never call me ‘a dick’ though, since I’m all-around a pretty considerate guy. I’d like to prove that by offering to buy you a dr—“

“Oh, no thanks.”

“Ah, OK I understand. You’re with somebody.”

“No. Goodnight.”

Strrrrike!

Go to hell and shut up. I’m not going to let you ruin this trip for me.

You’re ruining it just fine by yourself. Don’t you realize that women don’t want cheesy pickup lines? Just be yourself. Talk about what you do.

No. No, I don't need to stoop to trying to impress women with my day job.

First, it’s pretty hard for a guy in your position to do any stooping. Second, what’s so glam about heading “Le Feud” anyways?

Zip it. You don’t understand. Nobody understands me…nobody since Debbie.

I knew that’s what this was about! When are you going to give that up?

Give up on true love? Not any time soon, bub.

True love!? Were the two of you in love when she banged that drug-pumping hack Tim?

THAT’S IT! I’ve told you never to speak his name…

“Yo, Big Poppa?”

…around me again! Wha? Who’s…

“Big Poppa Karn, it is you! Yo it’s Tom and Marty from Wash U. Remember us from spring break last year?”

“Yes…yes of course. Hey fellas, great to see you again.”

“Great to see you Poppa Karn! How you been?”

“Me? Oh, I’m…I’m fine.”

“You sure? You don’t look so great.”

“No really, I’m OK. I think I’m about to retire, though.”

“You goin home already? You ain’t even stickin around for the wet T-shirt contest?”

“I don’t think so Ti—Tom. I’m gonna head back to my hotel room and…”

…make love to your right hand?

…make love to my right hand.

“…make myself a light snack.”