On the rare occasions we’re asked or compelled to tell a joke, we usually tell the same one. It goes like this:
A guy walks into a bar. It’s not a dive, but it’s far from nice. It’s early evening, so the place is pretty empty. A couple of people are shooting pool off to the side of the room. Regulars, looking hardworn, are sidled up to the bar, necks craned up to the television showing whatever anchored up in the corner. And way at the end of the bar, towards the back of this establishment, there’s a man with a giant round orange head.
Our guy thinks for a second about where to settle, hesitates, then decides to sit next to the man with the giant round orange head. He orders a drink, looks at the TV briefly, and, unable to resist, turns to talk to the man with the giant round orange head.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but…”
“Is it about my head?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t worry about it. You wanna know how it happened.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s a pretty long story.”
“That’s fine. I’ve got time.”
“I was a geologist. Used to go out as a contractor for all sorts of oil companies. They’d fly me out all over the place to check the land, see if there was maybe, y’know, oil that they might be interested in acquiring. I’d go from continent to continent, country to country, climate to climate, all year round getting samples, doing tests, same old same old. It paid well, but it was lonely, y’know. I lived out of a suitcase, ate meals by myself or with a bunch of businessmen I’d met for only a few hours, and sleep in nondescript hotel rooms with the thickest curtains and heaviest blankets. There’s routine and then there’s routine, y’know?”
“Sure.”
“So, anyways, I’d been doing this for years. You wouldn’t believe how every place, no matter how different, ends up feeling the same. I was bored, restless, going out of my mind. Geology - you’re going to laugh - was my passion. It was everything, but doing it for so long and always in the service of some huge corporation was getting to me. The love of the science, the thrill of discovery, had gone out of me. I was just going through the motions, y’know. It’d be fair to say I was depressed or, maybe not depressed, maybe just glum. I don’t know. Nobody really picked up on it, but how could they? I was with new people speaking languages I didn’t know every other week. Hell, I’m not even sure I knew I was glum. I just went about my business. Collected my samples, did my tests, delivered my reports, checked my email, packed my bags, got on another plane, rinse and repeat. You know the drill.”
The man with the giant round orange head pauses to take a sip of his drink. The bartender slides over our guy’s beer and he thanks him with a nod.
“So, anyways, I’m going through the motions one day and, to be honest, I don’t even remember where I was. We were on some plains. Just completely flat, undeveloped. Barely a tree or brush or anything for what seemed like forever. If you stood there for long enough you could see the sun traverse the entire sky uninterrupted. See sunrise and sunset without moving an inch. I was there with a small group of people - technicians, suits, whomever needed to be there - and they were talking about something that didn’t pertain to me, so I just sort of wandered off. This was, I admit, kind of unprofessional. You’re meant to pretend to be interested, nod and the like, even if you don’t know a damn thing about what’s being said. On this day, though, I guess I didn’t want to do that so I just started walking. I wasn’t headed anywhere in particular. There was nowhere to go. Just empty land. But I was walking and walking and I’d gotten to be maybe a hundred yards away from everybody when I tripped over something.”
Our guy is nursing his beer. The man with the giant round orange head silently, with just a quick motion of his hand, gets the bartender’s attention and orders another drink.
“When I say I tripped, I mean it. All of a sudden, I’m facedown in the dirt. Damn near winded myself. I’m shocked, angry even. It was like the ground itself tripped me, like out of nowhere it reached out and yanked me down. I look over into the distance and no one I’m working with seems to have noticed I fell. Hell, seems like they haven’t even noticed I’m gone. Or maybe they noticed but just didn’t mind much. Anyways, still on the ground, dusty, I look back at my feet to see what did it, see what brought me down, and I see the corner of a wooden thing. It’s poking out of the grown like a little pyramid, but you can see it’s a simple box that’s been buried and, somehow, come unearthed. I brush some dirt off, sit up some, and get closer to the box that tripped me. It’s really stuck in there firm. I try to shove it loose, but it doesn’t give. Surprising myself, I stark digging it out with my bare hands. I’m just scratching and scraping and grabbing at fistfulls of ground trying to get this damn box free. I don’t know why. It’s not like I’m in need of an old wooden box. But I want to see it, all of it, and hold it. I keep digging and digging and it doesn’t take too long before my hands are filthy with dirt and the box is halfway free. It’s smaller than I expect even if I didn’t expect much. A rectangle, maybe only 9 inches by 5 inches or so. I yank and nudge and wiggle the box free of the earth so I can see the whole of it. I’m almost incredulous that this thing exists let alone that I literally stumbled across it. This simple box, made of unvarnished pine, brought me down. I’m embarrassed to say it hurt my pride. Not that I had much to hurt, but still. I was just walking and somehow this simple little thing, in the middle of nowhere, changed everything.”
The man with the giant round orange head pauses, stares into the middle distance beyond the bar, takes a small sip of his drink. The people playing pool get a little louder, a little boisterous. Some folks file into the bar and bring a slant of fading light into the dim room. Our guy, having finished his beer, is picking at the label and listening intently. He’s been trying, this whole time, not to stare at the man’s giant round orange head, but trying also to show that he’s being attentive, that he’s interested in more than just an explanation for the roundness and giantness and orangeness of this man’s head. He looks over at the man with the giant round orange head and, as if brought out of a daydream, the man with the giant round orange head resumes his story.
“I didn’t open it right away. Even though the box had only a simple metal latch, no lock or anything. I was curious, but wary of opening it up right there. I still had work to do. Had to go back to the technicians and suits and everyone else. Finish out my day, go out for dinner, the whole thing. So I took off my coat, wrapped the box up in it, and wandered back the hundred or so yards to the worksite. When I got back, no one seems to have noticed that I was gone at all or that I was slightly dirty or that something was clearly swaddled in my coat. They wrapped up their conversation and we went back to work.
“I wondered and thought about what was inside all through the end of the work day, through dinner, through the cab drive back to the hotel, up the elevator to my room, and then - finally - sitting on the bed with it in front of me I kept wondering what could possibly be inside. It was pretty late by then. I’d gone through every conceivable option. Maybe it was empty. Maybe it had some old coins or photographs in it. Maybe bullets. Maybe old receipts. Maybe love letters. It couldn’t contain much, but it could contain anything was the way I saw it. Could be worthless stuff or priceless. I couldn’t tell. It had a weight to it, but weight don’t tell you much.
“I almost didn’t open it. There was something about its heft, its unknown contents, that I liked. It was, sorry to say, special somehow just as it was. There was something I really enjoyed about all the wondering. I know this seems corny, but the wonder I had with the box was kinda like what I used to feel about geology. There was a mystery, a question, put in front of me and most of the fun comes from turning that question around in your mind, sorting through possibilities. It was the first time in a while that, well, I felt like there were real options in front of me, options that weren’t narrowly conceived or limited. It seemed maybe like if I opened the box right then that I’d lose the options, the possibilities, and I wasn’t sure I wanted that. So I sat there for a while. I turned on the TV, some late night show was on, and I kept turning over the possibilities in my mind until, all of sudden, I leaned forward and just opened it. It’s almost like I wasn’t even thinking anymore. Like a reflex. I didn’t so much make a decision to open the box, but was just a part of decision made by something or someone else. Like the box decided it was time to be open. I know this sounds crazy, but that’s how it was.”
Our guy turned a little while ago to fully to look at the man with the giant round orange head. He’s no longer peeling at his beer label, no longer distracted by the snippets of conversation that stand out of the din of voices in the bar. He looks gently at the man with the giant round orange head as he speaks.
“It wasn’t empty, but it seemed so when I opened it. I laughed. Of course there was nothing inside. Of course. I shoulda kept it closed. I wasn’t so much disappointed in the box, I mean, it’s a box - but at me for giving up all the possibilities I’d had just a moment before. I took a deep breath and then all of a sudden I see a man standing just off to the side of the room, near the window. I near jumped out of my skin. Maybe even let out a little shriek. What the fuck was this, I thought. I didn’t notice the man come into my room and certainly he wasn’t there when I came in, when I was sitting here all the while with the box. I maybe yelled at him to get out or asked him what he wanted, I don’t know, but something in his demeanor calmed me down almost immediately. He seemed, strangely enough, entirely unsurprised by my surprise and also entirely at home in this hotel room. He looked, really, quite like some of my coworkers. Hell, he looked, you’d even say, kinda like me. Gray suit that’d seen better days, white shirt, you know, just regular attire. You’d pass him by in a hallway anywhere and not give him a second look. He’s the kind of guy you forget, y’know?
“I’m calm now, but still stunned into silence. Just sitting there with an empty wooden box on this bed looking at this man in a suit and wondering what the hell happens next. I don’t know how long he stood and I sat in silence, but it felt like a good while. We just looked at each other. The room was quiet until, as if cued by something unseen, the man started speaking. His voice was, like the rest of him, unremarkable. I can’t, no matter how many times I’ve thought of him or told this story, really remember exactly what he sounded like - but I remember what he said to a tee. He said
‘I imagine you have many questions, but I’m afraid that I don’t have many answers. All I can tell you is that I live in the box you found and opened today. I have always lived there and I will always live there. I do not know why I live there nor do I know what I am. I do not, well, really exist as far as I can tell when the box is closed. I do not think I am a demon, but I’m not sure how I would know if I were. I don’t want or intend to hurt you or, really, to help you. All I know about myself is that I come to exist when the box is open and, after that, I can make three of your desires reality. Yes, any three. But only three. These desires - or wishes if you prefer, I know some people do - can be anything. There are no limits or strictures. My only word of caution is that you be as precise as you can. I will never try to misinterpret or maliciously twist your desires, but I sometimes misunderstand things. Sometimes people articulate desires and when I make them real, they turn out not to be at all what was wanted. This happens quite a bit unfortunately. I am not sure if this is my fault or theirs, but I feel the need to tell you. It’s best to keep things simple. So, at your leisure, please tell me your first desire and I will make it real.’
“I know this strange man seems incredible, but I promise he’s real and what I’m telling you is the truth. What’s more incredible than the sudden appearance of this strange man and his odd speech about his existence and his ability to grant wishes is that I don’t think I took more than a second or two to make my first wish, to tell this strange man my first desire. I desired, I told him, ten million dollars and a nice home out in the suburbs with a swimming pool. I didn’t want to be greedy, but what with inflation and the state of the world I wanted to be secure. I was tired of working, tired of dragging my ass from place to place and looking at how to pull oil out of the ground for the benefit of the few and the detriment of all. Ten million and a nice home with a swimming pool seemed ideal. I’d be able to do whatever I wanted without worrying. I’d be able to take a nice swim on sunny days.
“I told him all this, stated my desire clearly and directly. He asked a few clarifying questions to make sure he got it all correct. And then, all of sudden, it was done and we were there. We were in my home, you could see the swimming pool in the backyard, and a bank statement with my name on it was in my hands. It was exactly what I wanted. There wasn’t a thing I would’ve changed. It was perfect. And, I’m not ashamed to say, I cried with relief. I was relieved, of course, that this strange man had done what he’d said he’d done and that I wasn’t damned by some trick or hallucinating or some such, but I was also relieved that all the real troubles I had once seen standing between me and what I wanted were gone. I wouldn’t have to dread work, sleep in another unwelcoming and tidy hotel room, talk with executives about expected yields, or any of it. I wouldn’t have to worry about a mortgage or talk to realtors. I just had it. It was, thanks to that strange man, mine to enjoy and just enjoy.
“So I did. I luxuriated. I bought furniture, decorated, and lounged around. I invited old friends for dinner and made new friends with my neighbors. I went swimming whenever I could. I worked in the garden, planted trees and flowers. I spent years taking nothing but pleasure in my home and being everyday grateful for the funds in my account that allowed me to do whatever I pleased. I didn’t live lavishly, but comfortably. It was nearer heaven than I thought I would ever get. But, well, time passed and eventually a different desire grew louder and louder in my head until half the time I spent in my house was spent thinking about this other, different desire. And, as if he could sense it, the strange man showed up again.
“Sitting by the pool, baking in the sun, he and I talked for a while. He was very cordial. He asked how I was enjoying the home and the money and the pool. I expressed gratitude. I loved it all. But, he anticipated, there was something more I wanted. I said yes. Yes, I wanted a partner to share my home and money with. While I’d dated plenty and had many close friends, I’d yet to find someone that I really clicked with, someone I loved and who loved me in return. I desired this. We talked for some time about the kind of person I wanted to share my life with, their qualities, their attitudes, and everything. We spoke for hours. He was meticulous. He recognized how important this was to me, how this was maybe what I wanted most and had always wanted most. What more, really, is there to ask for? What else, really, are we looking for other than another soul with whom to share our short time on this spinning globe? He seemed to understand even if or maybe because he spent his entire life in sort of solitude. His desires, if he had any, went unexpressed and maybe unfulfilled while serving others. I asked him if he thought I was being selfish by asking for things that only benefited me. He said he wasn’t there to judge. He only wanted to fulfill the desires properly. He wanted people to get what they wanted. I wasn’t sure I believed him, but I wanted to.
“I expressed my desire completely and fully and like that, perfectly and immediately, I had a partner that it felt like I’d known my entire adult life. They were, like my house and my money and my pool, exactly what I wanted. I, too, seemed to be exactly what they wanted. We made each other laugh. We shared some interests or were interested in the other’s interest. We swam together sometimes. I would catch them, sometimes, looking at me from across the room just to look. We fought sometimes, but only to evidence care. It was beautiful.
“We redecorated the house, renovated, changed things to suit our life together. We went on vacations sometimes. We spent days and weeks and months and years in each other’s company. Not unhealthily close, but never distant. We woke up next to each other. We had trust, respect, and admiration for each other. It was entirely mutual, balanced. I didn’t know something like this could exist. I’d only had glimpses of stuff like this before, but - in the past - love was always crowded out or complicated by other things. Worries about money or the future or some unarticulated want would mess with relationships, would create misunderstandings. Feelings would get difficult to express or even understand. Communication would get fraught. Love hadn’t, for whatever reason, ever been like this. I’d always, before, felt drawn elsewhere to other possibilities, new opportunities that had to be pursued lest they be lost and, as a result, ended up losing what I had. Not now, though, now I had what I wanted and had the means to still get, immediately and without effort, one last thing I desired. It was the perfect existence. We lived like this for years.”
The man with the giant round orange head pauses and excuses himself to go to the bathroom which leaves our guy to dwell on what he’s heard thus far. Our guy didn’t notice, but the bar’s crowded now. It’s noisy. He orders another beer and sits thinking. He isn’t sure he entirely believes this man’s story, but he is entirely transfixed by it. He is, even, starting to wonder if maybe the man with the giant round orange head still has the box, still has one desire left to articulate. He’s skeptical, but cautiously hopeful that maybe the man with the giant round orange head might, if he’s nice and attentive enough, pass the box that contains the strange desire-granting man on to him. Amidst all these thoughts about the box and the man with the giant round orange head’s story, our guy starts to wonder though why the man with the giant round orange head is here with him now. Why isn’t he in his perfect home? Why isn’t he with his perfect partner? Why does he have a giant round orange head? He barely has time to consider these questions before the man with the giant round orange head returns from the bathroom, sits back on his stool, and resumes his story.
“I’m sure you appreciate that it’s hard to relate how a relationship goes to someone outside it, so all I’ll say is that it felt correct. We spent our days free and entangled. We grew accustomed to the shape of our lives together while also always seeming to discover something new and untapped about each other. The only sadness, real sadness, that ever really encroached on us was the recognition that what we had was rare and unearned. We talked about how, left to our own devices in this chaotic world, we might never have found each other or, if we had, that things may not have worked out just right without the help - if you can call it that - of the strange man. We talked about the box, about my last desire, every now and again. They didn’t want the box, they told me. They never explained why, but insisted that the box had found me and it would, in its own way, find someone else in turn. It wouldn’t be fair to keep it for ourselves. They, moreover, didn’t want to know about my last desire. It was mine and should stay mine, stay between me and the strange man.
“I can’t rightly say how long it took for this last desire to crop up finally, to start to infringe on my life the way the second desire infringed on the first, but it was a good long while. I was older than I was but not so old as I am now, I guess, but anyways it eventually happened. My days, good as they were, started to be split between what I had and what I wanted. My thoughts were split between what was right in front of me and what could be if I wished it so. This not unpleasant tension lasted a while. If my partner noticed me distracted, they didn’t say anything. One day the strange man returned. He knew that it was time for this last desire, time for the end of our time together. We spoke at length. I asked if I should use this final desire to free him or to do something for him, but he said that wasn’t necessary. He had everything he wanted. He only needed to know what I desired. I asked what would become of the box after I articulated this final desire and he said he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t in control of such things.”
Our guy shifts in his seat. The man with the giant round orange head takes the final swallow of his drink and slides the glass back across the bar. The bar is impossibly loud, but our guy is rapt and the man with the giant round orange head speaks with such authority, such clarity that he’s all our guy can hear.
“Sitting there with the strange man felt much like it had felt to sit with the unopened box on the hotel bed all those years ago. I wanted to preserve the possibilities in front of me, but at the same time felt an unshakeable desire to collapse those possibilities into one definite and desired reality. I wanted to keep wanting, but of course wanted to have what I wanted too. It’s a good problem to have, I know, and also an old one. We spoke at length about the specifics of my desire. The strange man, as always, was very diligent, very worried he might get things wrong. We sussed out the specifics, got clear on the nitty-gritty, and he asked if I was sure and I was, right then, sure. He even brought out a pen and paper so we could be entirely on the same page, be perfectly exact with this final desire. It was, he knew, critical to get it right lest our entire time together be spoiled by this last curdled desire. We got there in the end. It was clear to me what I wanted most and clear to him too. No longer anxious or worried, I named my last and full desire as clearly and precisely as I could. I told the strange man that what I desired more than anything, what I wanted and wished for with my ulimate and final wish, was a giant round orange head.”
Well said. I would imagine that no one has requested an encore to date, but what a performance this must be.
" I wanted to preserve the possibilities in front of me, but at the same time felt an unshakeable desire to collapse those possibilities into one definite and desired reality. I wanted to keep wanting, but of course wanted to have what I wanted too. It’s a good problem to have, I know, and also an old one. " - tell me about the old one someday.