Breakfast Meeting

I walked into the room last of everyone, having just come in from sweeping off the dock. I walked around the table to an open chair and sat myself down, leaning on the smooth surface and allowing my body to relax. Breakfast meetings, I thought. Gotta love 'em.

"Hey, Sicka, you can't sit there." I looked across the table to Mindy, who explained with a smile, "That's the boys' side. You can't sit over there."

I looked around. She was right. There were only seven of us staying for the holidays, and we had divided ourselves cleanly. Four girls on one side, two boys on the other side. And while I had been trying to balance out the numbers, I had inadvertantly sat down with the boys. Everyone was quiet, waiting for my answer. I looked back at Eryn. "I'm manly enough to sit over here," I said with a smirk.

"That's true," Alena said, laughing. She'd seen me beat up on her partner Damon a few times. Everyone else laughed too, and started debating whether I could justifiably sit where I was. The two boys next to me, David and Jordan, counseled together for a minute before turning to me with their verdict.

"Okay," David said, looking at me with a calculating stare, "let's quiz you. Are you afraid to punch things?"

I snorted. "No way. I've taken down lots of people. Here at work, even." Everyone at the table quieted down, watching the fun.

"Are you afraid to burp in public?"

"No."

"How many times a day do you change your clothes?"

I considered this. "Usually I change when I wake up, before I come in to work, you know. But sometimes I fell asleep in my jeans, so I just come as is."

This received an impressed muttering from those at the table. "Good enough," David said. "Does your current outfit match?"

I looked down, satisfied. I lifted my leg to the table. "Black shoes with a brown shirt. Clashes."

The girls giggled, but then Jordan interjected, "Can you tell if your clothes match?"

I laughed with the others, feeling cheated. "No fair! That was a tricky question!"

"Can you speak in a low voice," David asked, in his bass tones.

There was a pause, then I mumbled as deep as I could, "Yes."

That got a few chuckles, since it sounded so stupid coming from me. David smiled. "Okay, say this - " he lowered his voice further, "The engine in my Ford Lariat Truck needs -"

I cut him off before it became too obvious I had no idea what he was talking about. "I'm manly enough not to humiliate myself just because you told me to."  The girls at the table "ooh"ed at my clever answer. So did our boss, Glenn, who had just walked in. He asked what was going on. The girls explained about how I'd messed everything up by sitting on the wrong side of the table, and how we were debating whether or not I was qualified to sit on the boys' side. As they explained, a memory locked into place in my head. "Hey!" I shouted, interrupting everything. "I am totally qualified to sit here, and I have scientific proof!"

"What?" Glenn asked, grinning.

"I took a personality test a while back - Alena, you remember?" I asked, looking over at her, "I'm sure I must have told you this. Anyway, I took a personality test that was supposed to be 'What Barbie are you?' You know how there are different kinds of Barbies, right?"  They nodded.

"Well, I took a test to see, if I was a Barbie, which Barbie I would be," I explained. I slammed my palm down on the table. "And I got: Ken!"

Everyone exploded with laughter. "Wait, how many choices were there?" Eryn asked.

"There were seven or eight different Barbies, and one Ken," I said, smiling. "And I got the boy doll."

"Well, if you look at the new Toy Story movie, he's still really effeminate," David argued.

"Well, I never said I was a man," I argued back. "I only said I was manly enough to sit on this side of the table."

"And that you are," Glenn said, chuckling. "That you are."

And that is how we came to the conclusion that I am at least as manly

as a Ken doll.