Once a mosquito landed a job waiting tables. “Hey guys!” it would greet customers airily. “My name’s Buzz, an’ yu’ll be servin me this evenin’.” “Just kiddin! Just kiddin!” the mosquito would reassure startled patrons and then recite the menu, beginning with “Steak Tartare” and ending with “Chef Joey’s ‘Organic Suuuprizzze!” We got everybody covered here. E-V-E-R-Y-B-O-D-Y, don’t ya know?” “Take care of yer bod’, and yer bod’ll, like, take care of you, right?” the mosquito hummed as people began to mull their choices. “I take care of myself, let me tell ya,” it might continue, to nobody in particular. Or perhaps it would declare, “I’m only here ’cause I wanna be, yaknow. I don’t really havta do this. I’ve got, like, this dream day job that keeps me real busy. I’m a personal trainer ta the stars! An’ let me tellya, boy, do I, like, get ’em focused on their bods pronto. An’ that’s not all. I also pass along a little lifestyle tip or two I pick up from my other contacts. Give my clients a real zinger every once in a while, yessireee Jack!” After this warmup, the mosquito flitted elsewhere about the establishment with striking quickness. Each time any of the patrons appeared taken by surprise to find it hovering close by, it would pick up again wherever it might have left off moments before and tables away with: “Nothin’ like a good workout ta make ya feel sooperdooper about yerself. Life’s all about the bod’, I say. You are how you look. Know what I mean? Look at me, okay? Tight thighs, no flab in these abs, lemme tell ya, an’ just check out this killer tush. Could I do ten hours at the gym this minute or what? Up-down, up-down, in-out, in-out! Like I always tell my clients, ‘take care of yer bod’ an’ yer bod’ll take care of youuu!’ I’m totally inta my clients, right? Sure, sometimes they get kinda stressed out over their ideal body image an’ wonder if they’ll ever, like, get there. But I just remind ’em, ‘hey guys, no pain, no gain!’ I mean, ya are how ya look, 24-7-365. Or 366. Whatever. Listen, ‘I’m here fer allayaguys,’ I tell everybody, an’ I’ll be there fer youuu, toooo. So work up a good sweat, okay? Work up a good sweat, an’ I guarantee I’ll give ya the kinda self-awareness ya, like, never knew ya had. We’re, like, talkin’ big-time in-touch-with-yer-bod’ stuff here! Feelin’ down deep who ya are and why it matters, that’s all! Awesome, I tell ya, A-W-E-S-O-M-E! All that matters in life is how ya look, right? Ya wanna look like a million, with a bod’ ta die for, right? Hey, youuu totally can! ‘Look better, feel better, be better,’ I always, ya know, like, say. ‘No pain, no gain’!” At the end of an evening of such exhortations, patrons left the restaurant in the mood for a workout the next morning, determined to take the mosquito’s advice and get into tip-top shape before they ventured out in public again. None of them wanted to appear to others as if they didn’t have a great body self-image. One that would make of their lives a perpetual satisfaction. But more immediately, they all wanted to be in prime form the next time they happened to find themselves at the mosquito’s table. Its “Y’er only as good as ya look, know what I mean-n-n-n-n?” hummed in their ears for days.
Copyright © 2020 by Geoffrey Grosshans