This past Saturday, my best pal Todd Hubb and I went on a hunger strike after my wife kicked us out of her mother's one bedroom apartment where we were all living (I thought happily). The news crews arrived at around 9am where we were striking in front of our apartment building.
FEMALE REPORTER: So what caused you to go on this hunger strike?
ME: I think I was treated unfairly so I'm going to starve myself until something gives.
FEMALE REPORTER: Does this have anything to do with the fact that your wife has been supporting you and your friend for nine months while you've been unemployed and doing nothing all day?
ME: It has to do with the fact that I'm a man.
MALE REPORTER: How do you figure?
ME: I'm expected to pitch in, pay for a few things, just because I'm male. That logic is from the stoned ages.
FEMALE REPORTER: What about your friend? Is your wife supposed to support him as well?
ME: He's male too, so she's against him too. So don't even go there. I tell you, this thing's just getting out of hand. You don't hate me because I'm a man, do you?
FEMALE REPORTER: No... just mainly because you're a little boy.
ME: Listen, it's only been a few minutes but we'll stay out here for as long as it takes.
FEMALE REPORTER: As long as what takes?
ME: The end, as we know it, of the plight of married men everywhere.
FEMALE REPORTER (confused): What?
ME: Just because married men want a life that doesn't necessarily jibe with the ladies, don't hate on us.
FEMALE REPORTER (annoyed): So what exactly is this so-called plight? Explain it to me.
ME: Three things...
I used my fingers to count them out.
ME: We don't want to work. We don't want to do dishes. We don't want to talk. What we want is to spend the rest of our marriage surfing the Net. I think it's only fair.
MALE REPORTER: How long are you willing to go without food?
ME: We'll be here for days if that's what it takes.
Todd, my BFF, turned to me.
ME: Weeks, months, whatever it takes. We might be here for years.
TODD: Eric, please... take it easy.
TODD: Eric, it's here.
I turned to find Todd with JC, one of the neighbourhood kids. JC, 12, was standing, straddling his bike, and wearing an army green colour backpack.
ME: Pardon me; one of our advisors is here. I'll be back in a moment.
I walked over to JC and Todd.
ME: Let's talk, boys.
The news cameras stayed on us as we huddled close and JC removed his backpack. They clearly taped JC handing us each a paper bag with the McDonald's golden arches logo. Todd and I both jammed our faces with burgers.
FEMALE REPORTER: Excuse me. What's happening here?
I straightened up, secret sauce dripping down my chin.
ME (mouth full): Nothing. JC is just advising us.
FEMALE REPORTER: Are you eating?
I was incensed, and I yelled, burger bits flying from my mouth.
ME: This is a hunger strike, what the hell!
MALE REPORTER: You're eating!
ME: Get out of here, all of you!
More burger bits flew from my mouth.
MY WIFE'S VOICE: Eric...
ME (annoyed): What?
I looked up to see my wife standing behind us.
MY WIFE (desperation in her voice): If you'll stop this nonsense, you can come back. My law career won't survive this publicity.
ME: You can't have me back that easy. I have some demands.
My wife sighed. This already had been a long day, and an even longer marriage.
MY WIFE: What?
ME: Can you bake a pie?
MY WIFE: All right... but Todd can no longer live with us.
MY WIFE: I can't support two grown men.
ME: NO! Not Todd! He's my friend!
I clutched Todd, tears streaming down my cheeks.
ME: Oh God! Please! Not Todd! Not Todd!
MY WIFE: It's me and your baby daughter, or your dead-beat leech of a friend Todd. You choose.
ME: I choose Todd! I choose Todd!
I held Todd with the strength of an ox.
MY WIFE: And I'll bake you a pie.
I let go of Todd.
ME: Todd, you best be on your way now. Go on. Get a move on. I don't ever want to see your face again.