Stink Breath
“So,” I said to Marvin, disturbing the silence as we sat in the bar. “How did the date go?”
Marvin leaned on the table and clasped his hands together, moving his eyes back and forth, as though he was rewatching the events of the date unfold.
“The date,” he began. “It was going well. We wined and dined, I was charming, witty and funny, as I always am. And at the end of the night…” he trailed off.
“Yes? What happened?” I asked, eager to hear the final details.
“I lean in for a little kiss, like this,” he said, moving towards me. And that’s when it hit me; the stench emitting from Marvin’s gaping mouth. I could feel acidic fumes burning my eyeballs and the hair on my neck stood up. My eyes started to water, and my nose began to run. I got up suddenly from my chair and bent over with my hands on my knees, dry wrenching and gasping for breath.
“And she backs off, says goodnight, and walks away. I haven’t heard from her since,” continued Marvin, seemingly oblivious to, and undeterred by, my reaction. “I don’t get it. I mean, what the hell’s her problem? I’m seriously starting to think that I’m too good for her.”
“I think I know what it is,” I wheezed in a croaky voice.
“Oh yeah? Tell me.”
I raised a hand, waiting for my head to clear and my breathing to return to normal. At last, I was able to stand and, looking Marvin in the eye, I said, bluntly, “Your breath stinks.”
“What?” replied Marvin, in a tone that suggested I had just called his mother a whore.
“You have stink breath,” I retorted. “It smells like dog shit, only worse.”
Marvin leapt up from his chair. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, standing there and insulting me to my face like that!” he shouted, prodding me in the chest with his index finger. “You’re wrong and I’ll prove it to you.” Before I could say a word, Marvin walked away across the bar. Oh god, he’s actually going to talk to people, I thought. I sipped my drink and watched Marvin at work. I had to admit, though, Marvin could be very charming when he wanted to be, even with his breath. Despite this, it was not a pretty sight. Every time Marvin leaned in close to someone, it was the same result. They either backed away or covered their faces.
“You see?” Marvin said, triumphantly when he returned to our table. “No one complained. Sure, they backed away at first, but that was only because they felt their personal space was being invaded, understandably.”
I shook my head in disbelief. This was classic Marvin. He was a great man, often misunderstood, but he did have a massively inflated sense of ego. I had to get through to him somehow.
“Hey, why don’t you ask her?” I suggested, as an attractive woman walked by.
“I think it should be case closed already,” he said. “But, just to prove you conclusively wrong, here goes.” Marvin stood up and tapped the woman on the shoulder. As she turned, Marvin leaned in, his mouth open wide, and said, “Hello.”
“Whoa!” the woman exclaimed, recoiling in disgust. “What have you been eating? Microwaved anus?”
“I beg your pardon, madame!” Marvin replied angrily. “Who do you think you are talking to?”
The woman threw her drink in Marvin’s face and slapped him. “Creep!” she shouted and walked away. Flabbergasted, Marvin sat down quietly, rubbing his cheek, and stared at the floor.
“She wasn’t well brought up,” he murmured.
“Gum?” I asked, producing a packet from my pocket, and trying to hold back my laughter. Marvin looked at me with disdain then slapped the gum out of my hand.
“You weren’t well brought up, either,” he replied, and we sat in silence, once again.
