Tuesday, 8 March 2011
Taxi for Smith
I'm in a cab heading for new British bff's birthday meal.
On the seat next to me is a beautifully boxed but crap present. I am going for the theory that when cash is low, creativity or humour should prevail. Being as my latest job sucked all the energy and creativity out of me- I went for the laughs and bought her a plastic cow that shits sweets. And Moos.
The cabbie is belting down 23rd street like he's in Grand Theft Auto.
"Moooooooooo." says the cow from inside the box.
The driver looks at me suspiciously in the rear view mirror.
"Moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo." says the cow.
"It's a present!" I say.
"A present, the moo. It's a cow."
"It's coming from the box. It's a plastic cow. It's moo-ing a lot. It wasn't supposed to start moo-ing until I took the tab out, but is it."
He narrows his eyes at me in the rear view mirror.
"It's PreMOOture ejaculation."
The joke falls flat on the floor, along with the rest of my oft misunderstood humour here. Is it any wonder I keep making friends with my own people?
I launch into a huge explanation. About lack of cash. About it being a joke. About it shitting sweets. Except I say "Poops Candy" so he at least gets that bit.
"I don't understand?" he says "Why a lady like you would buy such a present?"
"It's a joke."
"I still don't understand." he says
"I know you don't. It's o.k."
The taxi jerks violently as it dodges another, accelerating past the Flatiron building and swerving a kamikaze left onto 5th Avenue.
"Mooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo." says the cow.
I couldn't agree more.