Jobe Knows the Truth: Part One of Three

Mitch looked down at his hand and read the address. 825 Mc…something. Obviously the street’s name wasn’t “Mc…something” but Mitch could now longer make out the sweaty gibberish. He wasn’t too worried though. He looked at the rocking house’s address. 825. The street? McDormand. McDormand could be a “Mc…something.”

The affable Mitch walked into the college party. Though to be more accurate, Mitch was trying to act “affable.” And to be even more accurate, Mitch didn’t know he was trying to act “affable” because he didn’t know the meaning of the word “affable.” Regardless, Mitch hit a wall of bodies in the large, furniture-less living room.

“What’s in front of everybody?” Mitch asked to no one and everyone.
“The keg,” someone responded.
“Oh.”

Mitch turned around to walk away but found people right behind him. Mitch whipped his head all around and saw he had been completely surrounded. He was no longer at the back of the group but now trapped in the middle of a shoulder-to-shoulder crowd of young people trying to get to the waterhole without any actual movement.

“Don’t panic, man” a voice said to Mitch, who turns around to see a hilariously nondescript guy standing next to him called Gary. "It's kind of like riding the city bus." Mitch gets bumped rough in the back a couple of times.

"Get off my damn shoe fat ass," suggests another party-goer instantly lost in the crowd.

"Actually it's exactly like riding the city bus," Mitch offers back to Gary.

Gary was one-fifth of a failed GAP campaign to reach out to a new customer base. Gary used to be an “Average Model.” He was a model for the average guy. No ripped abs. No charming dimples. He wasn’t ugly, as he wasn’t a part of the “Ugly Model” campaign, but he was vanilla. During the brief modeling stint, Gary became somewhat philosophical about the term “average.” He didn’t understand if average people are the most common people (see: mode), the statistical average (see: mean) or the perfect center of a given population (see: median). Even his philosophizing rarely broke beyond the average modern day philosopher.

“You’re a philosopher, really? Say something philosophic-y!”
“Uh…an army can’t create peace, it can only create control.”
“Wow….but can’t they also create planes and tanks and stuff?”
“I think you should come to a philosophy club meeting, Mitch.”

Mitch was hesitant. It wasn’t that he was against smoking pot--in fact he got high twenty minutes ago--, as he imagined that what philosophizing required, but meeting people can be terrifying. Gary decided not to push the subject and instead mentioned how he should have brought his dog named Show. Show had Show Syndrome, which is a disease that was discovered in Show. Show, despite being ten years ago, appeared to look like a physically healthy puppy of maybe 6 months of age. It was the cutest disease any dog has ever had and the one aspect of life that was truly unique for Gary.

Show was a strange dog in other ways, too. For instance, he likes Doritos but only Cool Ranch style. That’s why someone always brings Cool Ranch Doritos to the philosophy club meetings.

“Wait. There’s going to be chips at the meeting?” picked up Mitch.
“Yeah.”
“And beer for dipping?”
“Sure. Wait. What?”
“I’m there!”