Once I worked at an agency in New York
That represented performing artists
Usually, I ran the taping room
But someone had canceled
So, today, I ran the mailroom
As I strode through the lobby making my rounds
I heard a familiar voice say
“Boy, she looks sad.”
There, by the elevators
Was Norm
In a Grandpa sweater
And multi-colored sneakers
Looking at a painting
That hung on the wall
I stopped flat
And he turned
Mischief squinted at me from a friendly red face under scribbled-on hair
“What’d ya suppose’s on her mind?”
I approached and stood next to…
“I said fucking Pellegrino, Jason! Jesus Christ!”
It was so loud I could feel the sound beat against my chest as I walked into the conference room.
The explosive outburst was played for laughs. A wry tantrum whose comedic intent would have been obvious under other circumstances, but when an artist of that caliber fully commits to something it throws off the gravity in the world around them. Everyone lost their balance.
Jason stumbled across the room to extract the can of La Croix that Adam had launched into the couch and then walked past me out the door in…
