I know what you’re thinking, “hey guy, you’re just a normal, average guy that does typical guy stuff. Who needs some other guy to watch their sports, talk about cars and wear their Axe body spray?”
First off, stop saying “guy” so much, it’s annoying. Second off, it is completely the norm for people in my line of work (accounting) to have a stunt double. In fact, Carlton was included as a standard addendum in my current job contract. So just get that thought out of your head right now.
Anyway, it started off innocently enough. If I was running late, Carlton would jump from my third story apartment onto the careening Metro bus below and we’d switch back out at the next stop. Or if I forgot my work badge he’d put his 17 years of judo training to work on the office security guards so I could slip in through the café’s kitchen backdoor.
Of course, before my promotion these were things that I would do myself.
But now, I find myself passing less and less dangerous tasks onto poor Carlton. Stuff like drinking my hot coffee, hand washing my cut-off shorts and lying under my fat wife when we have sex. Yesterday I just had him sit in my chair all day and act like he was working. I was so ashamed I went home and took a nap.
Is it just me, or this asking too much of my stunt double? Strictly based on my own observations, he certainly doesn’t seem to mind the extra work. No matter what the task, he always follows through with a smile and a doff of my patented sequin beret. Plus, I would think any excuse to spend time outside of the ventilation shaft above my cubicle would be a welcome change of pace.
Yet, deep down I can’t help but think he’s just putting up with my requests for job security reasons. Last week I could have sworn I saw him roll his eyes when I asked him to throw himself down the stairs so I could fake a sprained thumb and go home early. He said he was just retrieving a floating contact, but I’m not convinced.
Either way, I can’t risk losing him. I’ve now become so dependent on Carlton that I wouldn’t be able to function without him. I can’t even remember the last time I sharpened my own pencil, let alone narrowly escaped a building rigged with a bomb right before it exploded. Sure, I could probably remember enough to get out alive, but timing that final leap to coincide with the ensuing fireball really takes professional timing.
So what do you think? Am I just making a mountain out of a molehill here? Should I cut Carlton some slack and start doing some of my own stunts again? Or should I start shopping around for another middle-aged stuntman with short brown hair and a full set of gold-plated teeth?