That part ainít ugly

(From Suburban Misfits)



I donít understand it.

Hankís so ugly it would take a freight train over him to fix his face.

Yet he Ė our theaterís ugliest usher -- gets all the best girls.

And it isnít fair.

I see myself in the mirror. I know Iím cool.

Sure, maybe I put a little too much grease in my hair and glanced at myself a little too much.

Not that Mannyís right when he says I never pass up a mirror or an opportunity to comb my hair.

But God! Hank doesnít even comb his hair (and canít without a wire brush) and the girls love him for it.

Thatís why Iím always checking out where he is and what heís doing, and dropping hints to Berkner, our manager, as to where he might find Hank, since Berkner wants more than anything any excuse to fire the son of a bitch.

Finding him making it with any girl anywhere in the balcony is more than enough to get rid of Hank, only whenever Berkner gets to the place, Hank isnít there any more, and itís pissing me off.

Most of the time I canít even find Hank unless he makes one of his girlís giggle or moan, and that pisses me off, too, because Iím the one who wants to make the girls do that.

Ben, our so called head usher, wonít call Hank to task, even when I tell him about how we all need to so something about him, his womanizing and his singing.

Maybe deep down I even admire the son of a bitch because heís so real when Iím not.

I donít tell many people this, but I was shy when I was young, and I didnít come out of it until I started dressing up to look cool.

Maybe I donít even believe in my own cool, and hate Hank for believing in his.

But he IS ugly, and still the hottest bitches practically beg to go upstairs with him.

So I follow him around, trying to figure out what it is heís got that I ainít, and not until I accidentally stumble into him when heís stepping away from the urinal do I get the drift.

Thatís part of him ainít ugly, itís just BIG!



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