I went to the barbecue joint late on Friday night so Tracey the Waitress Goddess could hand off some stuff to me that I lent her a while ago — my collection of the complete Richard Pryor recordings on CD, so that’ll give you an idea how much I trust her — and when I went in Joy the bartender stopped me to relate the following story.
Earlier in the week a couple came in for dinner and after their meal they asked Joy, “Hey, is your name Tracey?” Joy replied with a “no” but asked why they asked, and the couple replied that they were in town from Seattle and dropped in because they had been reading the Vault of Buncheness for two years.
Yes, the humble Vault of Bunchess is actually read by people other than yourself, shut-ins, fan-geeks, mental patients, sex-offender inmates, cross-dressing heads of state, and ex-lovers who peruse my random jottings to track my hoped-for slide into outright madness. Imagine my surprise!
So, to the couple from Seattle, thanks for reading, and feel free to write in with the story of how you chanced up my little quadrant of the vast internet galaxy. I bet you two Googled “crazy light-skinned Black guy,” “vulgarians in Brooklyn,” and “eating pussy,” am I right?
Ya gotta love a good search engine...