Saturday, February 25, 2006

The Question

To every man who has ever had a sister, girlfriend, or wife (Just not all three at once, please) there is nothing more terrifying than the question. The question is the worst thing a woman has ever inflicted on man. When asked men begin to tremble and try to blend in to the wallpaper. However, we soon learn that there is no escape. There is no correct answer. We can answer such questions such as how does the car work, how do airplanes stay in the air, what makes the sky blue, and what is the molecular makeup of dish detergent. We can fix the stove with a paper-clip, build a house out of toothpicks, and open a car one handed with a coat hanger while standing on our nose, but we cannot answer the question. We have answers for, “do you think she is pretty;” it is dangerous but we can pull it off. We can play poker while attached to a polygraph machine and still bluff a player with a full house into folding while we hold only recipe cards and bubble gum wrappers. If we answer “the question” we have signed out own death warrants. If we don’t answer we are condemned to being tortured to death and poisoned when we eat breakfast. Death by a million glares is a terrible way to go. When asked “the question” some men have been known to run in front of freight trains to make the end quick. If there is no train available they will build a railroad, buy a train and run over themselves. The real reason why man wanted to go to the moon was that one of their wives asked him the question, and he thought that the moon may be a good place to hide. He was wrong. Hunters and soldiers did not design camouflage clothing. No, a man created it after his wife had asked him the question. He managed to live another 30 minutes while she was searching for him. She finally destroyed the entire forest he was hiding in.
What is this question that strikes fear into hearts of generations of men all across the world. Brace yourself men – “Does this make me look fat?” or the more hideous variation, “Does this make my butt look big?” You see if a woman has to ask this question the answer is yes. Either that or “ you need therapy.” There is no correct answer. What should be said is “no the pants don’t but that entire chocolate cake and gallon of Godiva’s ice cream does.” Men have no escape once the question is asked. Since men have no warning for when they are going to be asked they have no way to prepare. They cannot take mind-altering drugs so they have an excuse for their answer, or at least lessen the pain that is going to be inflicted. Not answering is considered to be an affirmative answer, lying can result in permanent physical deformity, and the truth is deadly.
So men I offer this advice. If you ever have an inkling that the female in your life is thinking of asking the question - run. Run fast and far. Run faster than an Olympic gold medalist on a caffeine high. Run like the coyote with Acme rockets strapped to his feet. You cannot escape but you may prolong your life. You may have time to scribble you will on toilet paper in your own blood after you lock yourself a public bathroom. It may be a good idea to have a hole dug in the yard so you can bury yourself alive. As for me, I plan to carry a live grenade in my pocket. Who knows, maybe I can pull the pin before she realizes that I haven’t answered yet.

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