“What do you mean breakfast is closed it’s only 9:35!” Chet exclaimed,
“Sir, sir”, the masked goblin replied, 6 feet behind cheap plexiglass, “The Comfort Inn closes breakfast at 9:30, it’s company policy.”
Chet was livid. One of his Theta Chi bros got hitched last night. The wedding was fantastic, a great chance for all the bros to get back together again. Four years since graduation seemed to fly by so fast. The flood of old memories, the nostalgia, catching up with where everyone was doing, an open bar and tearing up the dance floor. Chet knew to stay hydrated but the two bottles of Dom he split with Thyra the bridesmaid had left him hungover. But it was the pivot from that peak of pumping Valentino Sorelli with bottle service, to, this, the reality of dealing with, likely someone of the Lenca tribe (the mask obstructed it somewhat, but Chet learned to detect the sharp nasal bridge), who had no business working in a Comfort Inn. If they were going to hire Lencas straight from Tegucigalpa they may as well call it Discomfort Inn.
“Do you at least have any coffee?” Chet asked.
“You can check the lounge if there is any left” the Lenca goblin mumbled, remaining still as an Aztec statue.
Nothing but dregs for about a quarter of a cup. Chet knew the room coffee would taste like ass and did not want to hoof it to Lardbucks.
Just then a procession of a dozen men holding a large pole clambered into the Comfort Inn. Leading the procession was a grayish bearded middle-aged man with his hair in a topknot with a bullhorn shouting.
“Hookah Laka Hookah Laka Pookah Taka Mookah Taka Hey”
“Hookah Laka Hookah Laka Pookah Taka Mookah Taka Hey”
Chet eyed the procession of mostly white-ish dudes, young and schlubby, some in khakis, some in ill fitted men’s wearhouse gear, a few dingbats, with a mixture of curiosity and dismay. As the procession began to enter into one of the conference rooms, Chet improvised. He began to march along with the gang awkwardly chanting their gobbledygook. Chet wagered that wherever a conference room was booked there was bound to be free coffee, and if not at least some entertainment.
Chet scrutinized the pole the procession was carrying. The delicately carved frenulum, the surreptitiously sculpted pons, the laboriously lathed veins. The painstakingly painted circumcision left no doubt in Chet’s mind; this phallic symbol was a penis.
Stetson McCoy (AKA Yeshiva Maimonides) was putting his cowboy hat over his headset in the conference room when Chet struck up a conversation with the hostess at a table near the door.
“Are you registered with Club Semenal?” asked the auburn-haired pixie with Mitsy on the nametag. The “I” had a heart drawn where the dot should be. Mitsy had big doe eyes, but her eyebrows told Chet the carpet didn’t match the curtains. Pretty face on a mid-body, but she holds eye contact intently, Chet respected that. The ex-tomboy that just wanted to hang out with the guys. Some of the regular visitors to the chapter house, Chet called them “fraturniture,” that sought the companionship of many men and were enamored by the male gaze.
“Ah hey Mitsy, yeah sure I’m registered. But hey look you know I am curious about something before we get to that.” Chet cocked his head to the left and grabbed his chin, producing a ponderous pose.
Mitsy warmly smiled “What are you curious about?”
“Well it’s just, you know, how is it that a two-handed woman like yourself came to work for Club Semenal?” Chet asked while stroking his chin.
Mitsy smirked while Chet, through his slightly askew sunglasses, began reading the names of the Club Semenal registrants upside down as the comforting aroma of Maxwell House beckoned across the conference room. One of the partners at the firm taught Chet to make small talk with the other lawyers before a case and try to read out any notes you can upside down to address the issues they plan to bring up. Most of the names were scratched out, usually with a name like Peinovich or Garcia, but that wouldn’t be believable for Chet.
Blinking, Mitsy asked, “Well, what do you mean by two-handed woman?”
Chet put his hand behind his head and ruffled his own hair
“Ah no Mitsy see It’s just means that when God made you, he used both hands.”
Mitsy snorted and rolled her eyes, buying Chet the time he needed.
“See my Dad taught me that one, Mitsy, it goes way back, but it suits you…. the names Arnold Beckman, look there it is.”
Mitsy stifled a giggle as she dutifully crossed Mr. Beckman’s name off the list.
“No, but seriously, Mitsy, isn’t the name of the club misspelled? Missing an ‘I’?”
Mitsy cocked one eyebrow upward. “Well, Stetson is a big believer in semen retention, it’s central to his doctrine, plus, Stetson owns the copyright, Club Semenal is a subsidiary of the Semenal Order. Semenal Order was the original website and Club Semenal is the name of the touring promotion.”
“Well, Mitsy, I’m certainly looking forward to the meeting.”
The lights in the room dim and projected on the back screen are a pair of thin male models with patched on hillbilly beards each blowing on a jug, the tape edits so rapidly they make a staccato beat.
Boo-bop-bop- bop- bada-bada-boop-boop, bada boop-boop
Boo-bop-bop-bop-bada-bada-boop-boop, bada boop-boop
As the banjoes fill in an oddly familiar melody, two strapping cowboys, complete with chaps, large belt buckles with the initials “CS” etched into them and protruding golden codpieces. Over the speakers the bearded hillbillies sing,”
“You’ve been looking for direction/ and an end to, your erectionsYou’re afraid of innuendo/ take a popper, and a benzo, ahhWe will put you in position/ give an earpiece, and a mission, ahhZoom doomers gonna get groomed/ there’s a catboy in your room
At this point came a call and response section, where Stetson and the dancing cowboys began clapping loudly and asking each participant, in tune with the song, if they were ok.
“Eddie are you Ok, are you Ok, are you ok Eddie? He-HEEE!
Timmy are you ok, are you Ok, are you OK Timmy?
Juan are you ok, are you ok, are you ok Juan?
Abdul are you ok are you ok, are you ok Abdul?”
Chet checked with Exodus account, the coins were down across the board, but Chet didn’t sweat it. He had already 20xed on one of his coins, he knew how to work the cup and handle pattern, and even though he was late to Solana, he made decent returns. He surfed through the latest cryptocurrency news as Stetson recited the names.
“Asher are you ok, are you ok, are you ok Asher…”You’ve been hit by, you’ve been struck by, Club Semenal!
Chet liked how both the dancing cowboys thrusted their codpieces in unison with “Semenal”
Stetson and the cowboys worked to get the Semenal staff upright. It has it’s own stand that the base of the staff goes into, but at 12 feet long the tip poked through the fiberglass ceiling panels.
Stetson looked at the crowd of two dozen or so and adjusted his cowboy hat.
“The Semenal staff is too long, that’s what I call a good problem to have amigos”
Chet noted that Stetson had a kind of oddball charisma too him, then eyed the pixie faced cashier in the back of the room
“Now, I want you to pair up and we gonna do some buddy buddy exercises ok. Now, one of you is gonna sit on the floor, Native American style, criss cross applesauce, got it?”
The entire time Stetson is talking to the camera, which projecting Stetson’s bearded face on two screens behind him, livestreaming the video to platinum subscribers paying the $100/month service fee.
“You gotta access the root chakra. You know some people call it the ‘poot chakra’ but not me. This is serious business ok? Y’all have a dirty mind, calling it the poot chakra like that, that’s a bad habit and I’m going to break you of that. For my diamond level services I will allow a select group of my members to join me in Lima, Peru for an ayahuasca meditation event and when you do these root exercises you will come in DIRECT contact with the spirit world. So, what you need to do is RELAAAAAAAAXXX. I need you to Relax the root chakra and RELAX the jaw. You know most of the tension is held in the jaw?” Stetson put his fingers behind his ears.
“Your mom nags you, your co-workers nag you, your boss rides you, you clench your teeth and at night you grind them. I’m asking you to UNWIND THE GRIND and let your jaw drop. The thing I want you to do is to relax your eyes. You know you’re staring at screens all day you start getting that angry squint. Your forehead wrinkles up.
The projector displays a close-up of Stetson’s bearded face, mouth agape, eyes looking in slightly different directions, sitting cross-legged. And in this position, I want you to release the last of the tension in your root chakra like this:
“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAH
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAH
OOOOOOoooooooOoOoOoAAAAAAAAGH!”
The guttural primitive cry was both pitiful and, in Chet’s mind, hilarious.
“Oh hey Mitsi, Mitsi you want to come up here and demonstrate the root chakra pose while I demonstrate the Power kegels. This is not any old Kegels, I want you to clench, and not just clench like any old clench.” Stetson holds his fist up for the cameraman. “You see this? I want you to do this, but instead of a fist I need you to do it with your root chakra. Got it?”
While Mitsi was still moaning, Stetson thrusts his pelvis while clenching his fists, opening up his chest (which was not quite as developed as his social media page let on) and yells in a guttural scream:
“AAAAARRRRGGGGGGHHHHH”
“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAHHH”replied Mitsi
“AAAAARRRRGGGGGGHHHHH”
“Ok, now everybody stand up and grab a partner.”
Chet visually searched the room and found a loner in doomer soyjack apparel and a 3 on the Norwood scale with eyes furtively darting. Chet looked down at his own nametag.
“Hey I’m Arnold, what’s your name?”
The skinny doomer perked up, genuinely relieved that someone showed an interest in him.
“M-m-my names Austin”
“Well like Austin I have this lacrosse injury, I can’t sit criss cross so can I just do the power kegels this time?”
“W-w-well can we at least take turns?”
“Sorry bro no can do my hip might become dislocated.”
And Chet waited for Austin to get criss cross applesauce before he clenched his fist, yelled
“AAAAARRRRGGGGGGHHHHH”
***********************************************************
After some warmup exercises Stetson again took center stage.
“It’s a rare honor and privilege for me to introduce to you one of the speakers in the Club Semenal tour. ?uestion Mark really needs no introduction to those of you who have studied game, his insights have helped so many young men change the game of game.”
With chaps and a scarf dotted with rhinestones, ?uestion Mark threw several standing side kicks before jumping into a full split while “Love in an Elevator” rattled through the Comfort Inn speakers.
“Now that’s ?uestion Mark, not ‘Question Mark’ it sounds like this” : and he proceeded to half blow, half whistle the first symbol of his name.
“Twelve years, twelve years since the concept of ‘game’ first entered the consciousness of the world and gentlemen and I’m here to tell you we have a long way to go...the GAME of game has evolved, you know women can find all the same blog posts we do, so you need to get ahead of them, you must prevolve. “
“In order to catch a woman, you need to THINK like a woman. You need to be negging. You need to be getting eyeliner. You need to be getting mascara, you need to be preventing crow’s feet, you need to eliminate frown lines, you need to be applying foundation, you need to be getting botox.”
“You see a woman with a bag of dog food in the parking lot of a grocery store. In her shopping cart is a bag of dog food. What do you ask her? Now some might say ‘ask her about her dog’, and sure that’s game 1.0 of learning how to interact with people, to show interest and curiosity in her wants, and by observing what kind of dog food she buys, you can maybe guess but remember.”
“There are many right answers, but the best answer to this scenario is to say to the girl with the dog food, ‘I guess your boyfriend is hungry.’ Because with the term ‘your boyfriend’ you are implying that she is marketable, that she already has a boyfriend, in effect you are sowing the seeds for the boyfriend objection but also telling her ‘I know you are thinking about the boyfriend objection but I’m still here anyway”. But by associating her boyfriend with dog food in an indirect manner, you are suggesting that her boyfriend is inferior to her, and she is due for an upgrade, or, at worse, that she has physical, coital, relationship with an actual, real-life dog. And nothing would get her hamster spinning faster than that.”
“This is just the tip of the iceberg guys, in our mid-afternoon sessions we will role play our cold approach and texting game.”
Stetson McCoy gleefully high fived ?uestion Mark as he entered center stage.
Chet received a notification, it was Thyra from last night.
“Had a great time last night, are you still in town?” the text read.
For Chet demonstrating value as a boyfriend was never that hard. At Theta Chi there were several mixers and socials, it was a fraternity where the students did a lot of service and had good grades, but also threw great socials. Sorority girls but also sporty girls would come over. Theta chi bros knew their value, because they knew their reputation, and saw the results of some of the senior Theta Chis and alumni that kept the money absolutely pouring in.
“ok bb let me care about u a minute.” Chet texted back.
Stetson grabs the microphone after ?uestion Mark cartwheeled out of the room.
“Wow, isn’t that amazing that we have such a legend in our midst? All right, now I want you to grab a knee while I introduce to you one more speaker for today’s session. He is a man of the faith. Because in today’s world we need to reclaim spirituality in the masculine world and not cede the spirit world to women. Please give a warm welcome to Pastor Tressel.
Pastor Tressel then stepped the podium, holding his iPad in a leather carrier. Tastefully bald with a sober sweater vest, Pastor Tressel effused the energy of a restrained but cheerful midwestern preacher.
“Gentlemen, what I say may surprise you, but whenever I enter a new town, I head straight to the synagogue. I look up the rabbi and I tell him,’ Shalom, when we gonna rebuild that temple, rabbi? Hallelujah. I tell him, “you know what I would do if the wailing wall was right here? He stands near the back wall. “If the wailing wall is here, I’m standing right in front of it, if the wailing wall is there, I go there. Because the Jews have a direct covenant with Yahweh, and we do not. Jews are up here (holding his Ipad above his head), but we are here (holding his free hand below his knee). “Thanks to Jesus’ sacrifice, we can all be here (holding both hands above his head). Shalom and Praise be to Yahweh. Can I get an Amen?”
The crowd mumbled, bemused.
“Now, gentlemen there is a plan for you. Jesus knows the score, and Jesus knows the game plan. Jesus knows if you are up against a nickel package or man to man coverage. And when you put your hand on the leather “
Pastor Tressel holds the iPad up to his ear as if it were a football.
“And get ready to throw it to Latarvius , just remember it is Jesus that will get Latarvius the ball, that Jesus will get the ball in Latarvius’ hands and it will be Jesus that will be whispering in Latarvius’ ear “take it to the hole” because Jesus wants you to win and be a team player. And when Latarvius spikes the football and shimmying in the end zone, I want you to revel in the Lord’s plan for you. Praise be to Yahweh.”
Chet’s old pastor growing up preached a lot more fire and brimstone than Pastor Tressel. His mom was on the ministry planning committee. Chet always saw church as a great way to dress up and look tight, and meet up with other good-looking families and later, especially girls. Chet found it odd that this masculinity training seemed to be giving mediocre advice at best, and looked around at the audience, missing his Theta Chi bros.
Stetson comes back to center stage.
“Thank you, Pastor Tressel. We are going to have extensive workshops on “game” theory and the masculine spirituality thanks to our guests. But for now, I want to share a motto with you. And that is, when it comes to being a man, it’s not about winning, it’s about sending a message.”
Finally, Chet had enough. He stood up.
“But if you do win, doesn’t that send a message?”
And in that moment, the balding, emaciated Austin had a vision, of Chet dressed in a bright red shirt that had YOWZA scrawled across it. Chet’s hair became a brighter blonde and while a chorus of angels sang, and trumpets blared, the giant Kanamara poking through the cheap fiberglass ceiling of the Comfort Inn fell over as a rift in the ceiling erupted and the roof parted, and Chet pushed over the stainless-steel carafe in slow motion, the wave of dark coffee, engulfing the entire crowd.