Rainie The Amazing!

There was some jerkoff ventriloquist on on the Comedy Channel not too long ago whom I had the misfortune to have caught a glimpse of. The guy was about as funny as a blob of gum that's stuck underneath a picnic table. And you could easily see his lips moving while his dummy lived up to its title. Before I came to my senses and changed the channel, he affected me by making me wonder whether you can always see ventriloquists' lips moving or if he just sucked at it. I really just haven't seen that many ventriloquists. And when I think about it, who the fuck has?

I did finally see another one the other day, though. His name was Rainie. Rainie is 55 going on 80. I had been working at his house off and on over the past month and a half, remodeling his bathrooms. While Rainie's wife goes to work all day to sell perfume at a department store, Rainie farts around on his computer, eats BBQ Pringles, and complains about the weather that he never seems to actually have to go outside to experience. He asks me frequently throughout the day whether it's warming up any out there. I can't help but explain to him that of course it's not warming up out there. It's fuckin December. I do manage, however, to bite my tongue and not point out that it really doesn't matter whether it's 70 below or 70 above if all you're gonna do is sit on your ass in the house and die for the rest of your life. I don't tell him this because I'm a nice guy. I'm also a fuckin professional.

Rainie decided that he wasn't happy with the work that me and the boss were doing on his master bath. It took much explaining on the boss's part to get him to calm down enough to let us finish the job, at which point he stood in the doorway of the bedroom with his finger pointing threateningly at the two of us and told us that we had one more week or that there'd be Hell to pay. He didn't say "Hell to pay", but he sure wanted to. He looked like he was about ready to go fist to cuffs with the boss. The boss looked like he was simply ready to go. I was standing there the whole time wishing that somebody would leave. Either us or Rainie. It didn't matter to me. I just don't like awkward situations like that. It's like hanging out with a couple who are screaming at one another, on the brink of divorce. Get me the fuck outta here.

After the dispute had been precariously smoothed over, me and the boss were gonna bail out for awhile in order to haul a bunch of rubble to the dump. I walked outside to get all the trash ready to throw on the trailer and to smoke a cigarette while the boss tried to charm Rainie into not hating us so much. When I walked back in the house, Rainie was waiting for me in front of the stairs, holding a big-ass puppet in the crook of his arm that looked similar to Big Bird. Behind him was a big, black trunk that bore the words "Rainie the Ventriloquist" or "Rainie the Amazing" or some goddam thing in white stenciled letters. "Hi, Kevin!" the retarded stuffed animal didn't actually look like it was asking me. "Are you going to the dump soon?" Rainie stood behind the puppet, his hand jammed up its ass, his eyes gleaming at me with cheerful condescencion. I was too caught off guard to even smile. I just looked at him like he was a fuckin idiot. Which he was. What am I, six years old or something? Jesus. I thought about telling him not to quit his day job, but he doesn't have one.

Now,I realize that all this might not sound all that fuckin interesting, but let me assure you that it was about the most surreal experience I've had in a long time. How an old fart goes from wanting to kick your ass to playing Bert & Ernie on the stairs ten minutes later is something that I'm not gonna waste my time wondering.