Pardon me, are you going to finish that sudoku? I mean, I’m sorry to bother you, but I noticed that you’ve moved on to another part of the paper. And, you were only like a quarter of the way done with it. The sudoku, I mean. I wasn’t watching you.

It’s just that I seemed to have finished my sudoku book. See? And, I have like another twenty minutes to my commute. Normally, I’d have a second sudoku book handy or at least some computer printouts. Today, I left my briefcase at home, because apparently I’m a nincompoop. So stupid. I’m such a disgusting moron. Sorry. I’m sorry.

I should have filled in this book in pencil. That way I could have erased the early sudokus and started over. Unfortunately, I work in pen. Hubris, I guess. It’s just that pen’s really the only way to do a sudoku–ever forward, no second guessing, no falling back. And, now I’m screwed.

Listen, I know what it’s like to have a sudoku in your paper–the excitement, the anticipation, the saliva. I know that you want to cherish that feeling, and I understand taking a break to stretch out the sensation. But, then I thought maybe you might be one of those people who possibly might not always finish a sudoku. Not that I’m calling you a bad person. I understand that there are people out there who don’t take sudoku seriously. They just have other focuses in their lives, like children or work. Everybody makes decisions.

Maybe I could just look at your sudoku? I’ve been practicing not filling in the squares, and I’m pretty close to holding it all in my head. Please don’t get up. No don’t. SIT DOWN! There that’s better. Everything’s fine.

Alright, what is it going to take for you to give me the goddamn sudoku? Do you want money? I don’t have any. I just spent my last $120 on a crappy Sharper Image gadget. It said it could create an infinite number of sudoku puzzles. Well, twenty-three hundred is nowhere near an infinite amount. Here look at this watch. This is a nice watch. That’s real leather.

What do want, my tie? Here take it. It only slows me down. Do you want my dignity? Fine. I’m getting on my knees. Look at me, I’m begging. I am begging you. I am making myself suppliant. All I want is a taste. Just two or three squares, a quadrant at the most. See? See my hand? You can make that shaking stop. All you have to do is remove one lousy page from your newspaper.

Alright, okay, I get it. I will put it in my mouth. No, don’t look at her. Look at me. I’m on my knees, already. All you have to do is put you raincoat over your lap and sit there. I will do everything. I am clean. I am a clean person. Just, c’mon. Just c’mon. C’mon. Just c’mon. Please. God, I am nothing. I am so low. I don’t know how I got here.

What? M’am, please, I’m trying to have a conversation with this gentleman here. Oh, you have an extra paper? That’s–that’s so generous of you. Thank you. Oh, thank you so much. That’s so nice. Oh, geez, it’s only moderate difficulty. Do you have anything advanced or higher? No no, that’s fine. I’ll do this one. Thank you anyway.

Sorry about that earlier, Buddy. Don’t know what came over me. If I finish this one before your stop, though, we should talk again.

29/12/2006
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