Last Friday, if I had been at a very hip, ultra chic bar named Moonster (with a werewolf as the symbol of the bar), instead of being home studying my Sunday School lesson, I might have ended up sitting next to two young men in their late 20s, one with short red hair and a bushy auburn beard, the other with a completely shaved head and an earring that was literally a dangling gold ring.
It’s a shame I wasn’t there. I can imagine how their conversation might have gone. Perhaps Mr. Beard would have made a little political commentary, such as, “Donald Trump is a full-on groadster.” We understand the slang term “full-on” to mean something like “complete” or “total”. But a groadster?
Mr. Ring addressed that. “No,” he said, “a groadster is somebody who’s dirty or disgusting.”
“Like I said?”
“It’s not for politicians. It’s for people who don’t shower or brush their teeth.”
“Well,” said Mr. Beard, wagging a finger at the bartender, then pointing at his empty drink, in his intentionally cool, sophisticated way. “I think you just don’t know how to use that word. Or maybe you think Trump is a charmpimp.”
Mr. Ring snorted with disgust. “Right, amigo mio. The only women he could charmpimp are overweight groadsters working at Walmart. Or women from Slovenia.”
“You’re leaving out his major demographic,” said Mr. Beard. “White men who barely got out of high school and who are in touch with their gay shadow.”
“A gay shadow?” said Mr. Ring. “I never heard that.”
“I guess you’re not cool enough to keep up,” said Mr. Beard. “If you don’t know the lingo, Bingo, just let the big boys talk.”
“I think you made it up.”
“Everybody knows gay shadow. Except you. It’s that dark part of you that follows you around and wants what you can’t admit. Or if you admit it, then you don’t have a gay shadow.”
“I still think you made it up.” Mr. Ring finished his drink and opened up the menu that was still lying on the counter.
“I don’t have to make stuff up,” Mr. Beard said. “I know how to stay in touch with what’s going on. I keep up with the cool ways to talk. You can’t be zack if you don’t do that.”
“You’re the least zack person I know,” Mr. Ring said. “You wear a bowtie, for God’s sake!”
“Bowties are the new zack. See, I keep up. I’m not an agno like you.”
“If bowties are zack, I’d rather be an agno.”
“Don’t worry. You are.”