Monday, August 24, 2015
'They call me Johnny Wrinkles' he'd say upon meeting someone new.
'Why? Cause I'm badass' he'd reply when asked 'and cause I'm way too lazy to iron my clothes, plus I tend to overpack my clothes-dryer and I always forget to empty it right away, so my clothes are normally WAY wrinkled'.
'Oh that makes sense' people would admit 'and then your name is John?' they'd query, naturally assuming a yes.
'Well no' he'd reply, gruff yet embarrassingly.
'Sorry Johnny' they'd concede.
'Well no, it's ah, Stu(cough)art, um Stu'
'Um, oookay, so why, um, do they call you Johnny Wrinkles?' They'd inquire.
'Look, I TOLD you, I don't like effin' ironing, I really, really don't like it!' He'd grunt impatiently.
'BUT WHY "JOHNNY"?' They'd demand frustrated.
'IT'S JUST A NICKNAME, A REALLY, REALLY COOL AND BADASS NICKNAME, THAT'S WAY BETTER THAN "OL' SCRUFFY SCABBY STU" SO STOP ASKING QUESTIONS, IT DOESN'T MATTER, NO ONE KNOWS WHERE NICKNAMES COME FROM, THEY JUST HAPPEN, STOP TRYING TO RUIN IT' he'd scream, voice crackling, tears welling in his now darting eyes.
'Ha ha ha, wow, you named yourself Johnny Wrinkles didn't you?' They'd say, as chuckles broke into genuine laughter while they walked away.
Soon after that they'd often get emails or Facebook messages from Stu.
Innocent at first.
'Listen, you haven't told anyone right? I'd really appreciate if you wouldn't' type things.
'You never replied to my message, are you telling people? Please don't. I'm begging you. I'll do ANYTHING. I don't have a lot, but I could give you money, or, I don't know, I could do something for you? Anything, just ask' type messages.
'I've been reading your Twitter, you're a liar too you know, you don't look sick at all, so I don't think you are "dying" to see the new Star Wars, so if you expose me then I'll expose you too' type stuff.
It'd be sad if it wasn't so creepy. Then again, there are up sides. I met 'Johnny Wrinkles' three years ago, and when he told me not to tell anyone, and offered 'I could do something for you' well I said I'd keep my mouth shut and said 'yes there is something you could do for me', and ahh, let's just say, I haven't ironed my own clothes ever since!
Oh, ha ha, might have given a wrong impression there, I'm not getting him to iron my clothes. I just wear them wrinkled, cause who gives a shit. No I'm just getting him to not tell anyone why some people seem to think my name is 'Biscuit Bob' now THAT'S a badass nickname.