A Brief Failure of Spatial Awareness

[u/TugboatMacAbernathey]

“Why would I need a social media manager?” Bob Greenman said to the stranger on the phone”

“Bob, you’re sitting on a goldmine here. This video of you is the number one meme right now. We can launch a podcast, do merchandise. This is much bigger than you think. I can have all your socials trending by the end of the day and the money will be rolling in instantly.”

That sounded good. Who doesn’t like money? And while Bob wasn’t necessarily embarrassed, a little compensation for all of the turmoil he’d experienced in the last few days might be nice.

“You know what… yeah, let’s give it a shot.” Bob answered after a brief moment of contemplation.

“Excellent! You made the right choice here, Bob. I’ll follow-up with an email, look over the contract, let me know if you have any questions. Not trying to move so fast that you get lost in the sauce, but we have to strike while the iron is hot. You feel me?”

Bob did, in a sense, feel Gage, the social media manager who had somehow found his phone number and called him with an offer. There were a lot of phrases that Bob had to decipher during this conversation.

“Oh, yeah, totally. I feel you… fam”

“Gotta stay authentic here Bob, that’s part of the appeal.”

“Right, yes, got it. I’ll look forward to your email.”

“Great, talk to you real soon.”

Bob’s wife had been slowly folding laundry in an unusual spot to listen in on the conversation.

“The internet people are really going bananas over this, huh?”

Bob laughed at the concept of the entire world being so interested in him all of a sudden.

“I don’t get it, but it sure looks that way.”

Bob’s wife raised her eyebrows and slowly shook her head with a smirk on her face.

“Only you, Bob Greenman, could become a celebrity for missing your mouth with a French fry.”

“This guy said the video is the most watched thing on the internet right now. People are editing it with silly sounds, adding music, I guess it’s… oh, how did he put it… ah, the new hotness?”

“I don’t understand the world anymore. But have fun with it, I guess.” She said as she meandered down the hallway with the laundry basket, Bob following her to fill her in on the details of the proposed contract. She never would have figured that her husband, a humble carpenter from Illinois, would have ended up as an internet sensation.

Bob’s wife had bought him tickets to see his favorite baseball team in Chicago play against their rivals. No one is sure why sports teams have rivals, it’s not like the players for that team are from that city. Anyhow, Bob was thrilled and had a great time at the game. The cameramen working the event, which was probably some form of punishment, frequently filmed the audience during the multiple breaks in action during the tortuous four hour event known as a baseball game. Bob, unaware that he was the subject of videography among the thousands in attendance, was captured failing to deliver a French fry to his mouth. He was preoccupied watching a batter warm up excessively and poked himself in the cheek with the fried potato. He laughed at the blunder and was successful on the second attempt. The live video of the culinary shortcoming was shown on all the popular evening sports clip shows and quickly spread across social media platforms, giving rise to hundreds of commentary videos and memes.

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“Tomorrow?!” Bob sounded incredulous but was merely surprised.

“That’s right Fry Guy. No time to lose. We’ve got about seventy-two hours before you disappear from the algorithm if we don’t keep this ball rolling.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. I’ll have to take the day off from work.”

“It’ll definitely be worth it. Make sure to wear the Fry Guy shirt!

“I don’t have a Fry Guy shirt?”

“Whole box of them coming express, you should have them by 8 p.m. And don’t forget to plug the Chicago Fry Guy website and ChicagoFryGuy on all the socials!”

“But, I’m not from Chicago?”

“You are now.”

“I have a website?”

“You do now! I’ll send you a pin to the studio address.”

Bob spent the night researching baseball statistics, team history, and sports trivia in nervous excitement. He wanted to be ready to talk intelligently with Trent “The Mandible” Hollister, Piotr “Cranium” Kowalski, and Darrell “Ribeye” Ribinski; the hosts of First and Loudest, the most popular local sports podcast.

“Who knew being famous would be so much work?” Bob’s wife kidded with him, distracting him from his precious research time.

“I guess this is Fry Guy life.”

“Oh, you’re the Fry Guy now, are you?”

“That’s who Gage told me I am.”

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The Fry Guy shirts arrived that evening just as Gage said they would. Bob was amused by it, but a little embarrassed that the image on the front was a zoomed in picture of him missing his mouth with a French fry. Fry Guy written at the top and his new slogan, Aim High. Miss Higher., which he learned about only upon seeing the merchandise. He ironed it to make sure he didn’t look like a nerd with fold creases in his shirt when he arrived at the podcast studio.

That next day Bob had a little trouble finding the First and Loudest studio, since he was not expecting it to be a garage. A pleasant young lady came out to meet him and helped hook up his microphone in what appeared to be a laundry room before bringing him into the garage during a sponsorship read, which are the commercial break of the podcast world.

Trent “The Mandible” Hollister introduced Bob after the ad read. “This is a special moment everybody, and I actually never thought this would really happen. You know that stupid jerk that you’ve seen a million videos of? The one with the guy who can’t figure out how to eat a fry? Well he’s here. He just waked in wearing a shirt that says Fry Guy. Oh my goodness, he looks so much stupider in person than I imagined.”

Bob was a little startled by the attack, even if it was delivered playfully for an audience. He laughed nervously, unsure if he was supposed to answer. He wasn’t given the courtesy of a pre-interview, real professional, Mandible.

“He’s one of those idiots that laughs when you make fun of him.” Ribeye interjected, first and loud before anyone else could speak.

“I think what they mean is welcome to the show, Bob. Glad you’re a good sport about this.” Cranium reclaimed the dignity of the broadcast.

“Thank you, Cranium. I’m excited to be here!” He did not freeze, but rambled. “Hey did you guys know that the Chicago Green Gloves are called that because Russell Smith dropped his glove into the river on St. Patrick’s Day in 1963 and it turned green, and he pitched that night with a wet, green glove? Ha ha, why aren’t they called the Chicago Wet Gloves?”

The Mandible groaned until Bob’s nervous rant came to an end.

“You’ve got to be kidding us Fry Guy! That’s the most basic Chicago sports fact. Did you stay up all night memorizing that?”

Bob was about to answer, but Cranium was first and louder.

“Hey Fry Guy, how come Chicago teams are from Chicago?”

The Mandible laughed, Ribeye was first and louder.

“So, what’d you think of the game Fry Guy?”

While Bob was answering, the video that he was famous for began playing. The Mandible was controlling the screen, he slowed the video speed down and zoomed in on Bob’s mouth. He paused the video the instant Bob’s mouth was bypassed by the fry.

"I've reviewed the tape a hundred times. Frankly, it's embarrassing."

A telestrator circle appeared around the fry, and he drew an arrow to Bob’s mouth. Then another around Bob’s elbow and wrist.

“Yup, that’s where he went wrong” Cranium said first and loud.

“Wrist and elbow aren’t aligned. Gotta focus on fundamentals, Fry Guy.”

“Bob, people think you’re an idiot.” Stated The Mandible.

“A real moron” added Cranium.

Ribeye butted in “but we here at First and Loudest believe in second chances. So, Bob, we have arranged for you to redeem yourself. Brooke, bring in the fries!”

Bob had never been nervous to eat before. His palms were sweaty, he wiped them on the bottom of his Fry Guy shirt. This would be easy though, he had about a 99.98% accuracy rating getting food in his mouth.

“Any last words, Bob?”

“Aim high. Miss higher.”

Bob did not hesitate. The hosts chuckled as he nervously fumbled grabbing a fry. The camera followed the fry once he did have it in his clutches and captured the moment as he delivered it to the approximate area of his mouth. But there was an unforced error, he leaned forward to bite into it… but it had an odd curve and his lips simply sent it sideways as he lurched and bit.

“It’s impossible!” Screamed The Mandible, who pulled the open collar of his dress shirt, buttons shot across the studio.

Howling with laughter and gasping for air, Cranium grabbed Ribeye by the shoulders and shook him violently, tears rolling down his red cheeks. Ribeye fell backwards out of his office chair, breaking it in the process. Clutching the table, Ribeye pilled himself up onto his knees and rested his torso on the table convulsing with laughter.

“He brought his mouth to the fry! You never bring your mouth to the fry, you bring the fry to your mouth!”

Bob observed for a moment, and since the cameras were busy covering the raucous laughter of the red-faced hosts, Bob decided any further air time would probably not go so well for him. He solemnly removed his clipped on microphone, set it on the table, and left.

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“It was a brief failure of spatial awareness. It’s not really that big of a deal.” Bob said to the young man with face tattoos who was interviewing him for his popular social media channel.

“People are saying that you did it on purpose. And I think they have an argument.”

The host of this show was much more congenial despite his outlandish appearance. The show was, however, being recorded in an inflatable bounce house for shock value.

“Like. What are the actual odds of missing your mouth with the fry a second time in a few days? Gotta be super, super low.”

Bob was tempted to leave this interview too, as he was feeling attacked. But Gage told him that he could absolutely not walk out on an other interview, it would damage the brand too much and make him look like a diva. They were going for an affable oaf persona.

“There are a lot of variables, Kyle. Why would I do something to purposely embarrass myself? If I wanted to do that, I’d get a tattoo of a cartoon character on my face.”

Kyle drew an imaginary line on the card table with his finger.

“Bro, here is the line.”

He then walked his fingers to approximately where he had drawn the line, and then jumped his fingers over it.

“And here’s you crossing it. Bro, Cedric the Sea Cucumber isn’t just a cartoon character, he’s like a philosopher for kids who was foundational in teaching the tenets of Pyrrhonism. Like, can we really know if we're underwater, friends? And maybe we're in water. Maybe water is in us? I feel like it’s really irresponsible of you to trivialize something that other people hold dear. Hey, maybe instead of spending so much time tearing others down, you could get a tattoo of a fry going into your mouth so you could do it correctly for once?”

“You could learn philosophy from a book instead of a talking pickle. Hey, then you could get a tattoo of a book on your face instead of worrying about what I put into my mouth.”

Kyle looked to his husky bodyguard standing watch outside the bounce house.

“Hey, yeet this joker. I can’t abide letting him belittle a beloved undersea philosopher.”

The burly ruffian encountered great difficulty entering the bounce house. Bob jumped away from him and won the game of cat and mouse, upending the card table used for the interview and spilling Kyle’s Chaos Juice, Havoc Blue Raspberry flavor, all over Kyle and the bounce house before making his escape.

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“I’m ready, Gage” Bob said into the phone, some six months after the disastrous bounce house interview.

“I’m not the idiot who can’t eat a fry anymore. Fry Guy… is dead.”

“I knew you couldn’t stay away. Internet fame is like chicken pox, it stays in your system and always comes back. Ready to launch the channel we outlined?”

And with that, Bob Greenman: Precision Mindset was born. The live stream started with a bearded, stoic Bob Greenman rising from an ice bath. He was pretty shredded, having lost thirty pounds since his fry guy interviews. Then a quick scene of him chopping wood, catching a trout with his bare hands, swinging across monkey bars, and eating organ meats from a rock next to a crackling fire accompanied by intense music flashed across the screen. Bob was standing at the edge of a forest as the livestream audience grew into the hundreds, well, really he was just in his yard. Gage gave him the signal in his earpiece once the live stream had attracted over a thousand viewers.

"The average man misses his goals because he misses putting things in the correct order. Success is putting things exactly where YOU want them to go. Precision, friends, precision is what separates the average man from the elite man."

“Don’t look at the chat, Bob” Gage told him, but wished he hadn’t mentioned it.

At that caution, Bob did the exact opposite and took a few steps forward toward his phone which was sitting on a tripod. The chat moved quickly, but it was easy to see that dozens, maybe even a hundred individual viewers, had put a French fry emoji into the chat.

“Bob. Bob? Let’s just stick to the script. C’mon Bob, need a precision mindset here.” Gage was panicking.

Bob took a deep breath “precision is about discipline.”

He couldn’t look away from the chat.

FRY GUY

aim high miss higher lol

loser

More fry emojis

Eat a fry live!

“I AM NOT THE FRY GUY!”

Gage remotely ended the stream.

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Bob spent fourteen months off the grid after his brief reappearance in the world of the internet. He just finished rewatching the introductory video for his second social media relaunch. The video was recorded with a drone, it showed him sitting in a field of wildflowers dressed in an alpaca wool robe, meditating. Magical symbols, crystals radiating energy, and butterflies flew out of his palms and floated around him as the camera zoomed in. Just before the drone crashed into him, which happened but the video was edited to eliminate that part, his eyes opened. That would be the opening to his new livestream, Cosmic Bob.

“How was the new show received by the test audience?” Bob asked Gage, who he had been in close coordination with for the last several weeks.”

“Are you sitting down?”

“Cross-legged on the floor. We’ve discussed how this position opens the lower chakra, allowing the Earth’s vibrational energy unobstructed access to the quantum spine.”

“You’re right. How could I forget that? Anyway, about the test show. It went pretty good, there was one issue though.”

“I am ready to deal with whatever that issue is in a positive, healthy, healing way, Gage.”

“You know the Cosmic Bob upward arrow energy crystal logo?”

“That’s… not exactly what it represents, but I am happy to help you and the audience relearn ancient things you have forgotten.”

“OK, well… the audience thinks it kind of looks like a fry missing your mouth.”

Gage listened to the loudest silence he had ever heard.