Hey, look at me!

I don’t think you realize how cool I am. I’m worthy of your attention. I’m worthy of everybody’s attention. I’m special, and I think everyone should acknowledge that. Look at me! I don’t think you’re looking at me.

A lot of people don’t look at me. I don’t know what’s wrong with them. I drive down the street with the coolest beats rattling the foundations of the storefronts on Carson Street. My truck has a ring of colored LEDs all the way around, and they change colors in rhythm with the music. And yet you’re not looking at me. Why aren’t you looking at me? Hey! Yeah, you! Look at me! Hey! Look at me!

I got myself a T-shirt that tells the world I’m the coolest. It says “THE COOLEST” in letters so big they hardly fit on the shirt. And it has a picture of a tiger! How can you not look at me? Do I have to get a zoot suit?

I’ve been working on my walk for years. It’s something halfway between a saunter and a sashay. It just screams, “Hey, look at me!” And yet you’re not looking at me. Not even when I actually scream, “Hey, look at me!”

I got a tattoo on my arm with a picture of a skull. Don’t you want to see a picture of a skull? It’s so cool! Look at it! I’ll bet nobody else has a tattoo of a skull. Why aren’t you looking at my tattoo? I mean, the ink kind of feathered, so on my pale skin it looks more like a bruise than like a real skull, but it’s still a tattoo of a skull. Don’t tell me that’s not cool!

Don’t you want to be with me? Don’t you want to be cool, too? Don’t you want to ride in the coolest truck in the consolidated metropolitan statistical area? I mean, it’s clean. The passenger seat has never even been used!

I think you should look at me. I think you should look at me right now. Are you looking at me? You are looking at me! Oh boy!

What do you think you’re looking at?

I always wanted to say that.

—Sincerely, Ernest “Big Dawg” Stickelmeyer, Etna.