The Right Tool for the Job
Beverly Vines-Haines

I've been walking around this city for close to four months now. Iíve seen it all. Not the city, of course. People. Rich. Poor. Fit. Fat. I'm thinking good luck falls pretty indiscriminately from the heavens. Used to go to church with my mother when I was a kid. Not any more. She told me God didn't have favorites. Excuse me? I'm a four-foot-six-inch male with a bad limp, testicles that never dropped, no hair and hands about the size of a bus token. I know the jokes. I've heard them all. Male genitalia can be estimated by checking out a guy's hand size. Thing is, I think women are onto something. I can't pee in the park in the winter cause I can't get hold of the damn thing. Let's see, that means I'm a four-foot-six-inch male with a bad limp, testicles that never dropped, no hair, hands the size of a bus token, AND a three quarter inch pecker.

Physically, I was behind the door when bodies were handed out. Mentally? I'm a frigging giant. Earned my first master's degree at twenty. I've got three of them now. And a law degree from Yale. I was the first token dwarf they brought on board. You laugh but dwarf etiquette is rampant in the Ivy Leagues now. So here I am in Washington D.C., permanent chairman of the Handicapped Americans Coalition. It's a ball-busting title for a job that has me kissing the ass of every senator and representative from fifty states. 

So why am I walking the streets and pissing in the parks? I like to stay in touch with my people, like showing them there are no more glass ceilings for folks like us. There's a little hooker over by the Washington Monument. I don't mean little in the typical sense. She's fat as a pot-bellied pig. But she's a little person, a woman who could have been a corporate giant, she's got the smarts for that. Instead, sheís been let go from seven major companies. Takes them a while to come up with just cause but they always do. Seems the idea of smart young college grads taking orders from a three and a half foot tall woman with a large forehead doesn't fit many corporate profiles. Same fellows have no problem letting her bob up and down as she gives them a BJ.

So I walk among them, hoping a little favor and fortune falls on me. I'm used to being short, but I sure would like an eight-inch tool.



First published: May, 2004
comments to the writer: Knob'sWriter@iceflow.com