Jamie Gets Sad

"A baptismal font?"
"A case of Poland Spring water."
"The head of a full-grown Brontosaurus."

Jamie Shupak took another sip of her Apple Martini and leaned close to Tim Tebow's ear so she could be heard over the din of the West Village bar, and continued.

"A baritone Ukelele."
"A 1980 style boom box," countered Tim, draining a glass of tonic, with two ice cubes.
"Four pairs of Uggs."
"A 35-pound English Bulldog."
"A microwave oven."
"An un-cooked rump roast."

Tim Tebow and Jamie Shupak were trying to name things smaller than Vincent D'Onofrio's head.

They had been sitting in Chumleys for nearly an hour, heatedly engaged in discussing various aspects of the subject.  Jamie was on her fourth cocktail; Tim, of course, drank only non-alcoholic beverages.

"The way I see it," Jamie proclaimed, "I was six years old before I was larger than Vincent D'Onofrio's head.  I mean, when I was six, you could have placed me in a full fish tank, I mean a fish tank completely filled with water, and I would have displaced less water than Vincent D'Onofrio's head."

"Mind you," countered Tim, "He is a great actor."
"No doubt about that," Jamie answered.  "I mean seriously flipping underrated.  And I suspect that the size of his head may be something that is out of his control.  Perhaps he is Cushingoid."
"Excuse me?"
"Cushingoid," replied Jamie, "which is to say, a person who has Cushing's syndrome.  One of the symptoms of this strange condition is the swelling of the face and head to nearly unbelievable proportions.  Why, I've been placed in fish tanks smaller than the head of someone with Cushings Syndrome."

Tim Tebow scratched his own head, which was also exceedingly large.  "Why," he asked, softly, "why the continued chatter about fish tanks?"
"Fish tanks?  I didn't say anything about fish tanks."
"Well," Tim said, "yes, yes, you did.  Twice in the last three minutes, you mentioned being placed in a fish tank."
"No I didn't."
"Yes, you did, sweet Jamie."

Jamie paused, raised her martini glass almost completely vertically so she could get the last drops of alcohol, and ordered another drink.  When she got it, she took a deep breath and began to talk, taking careful measures to avoid eye contact with Tim Tebow.

"My grandfather used to play a game with me," Jamie said, somberly.  "Well, it wasn't actually my grandfather.  It was a nice old man who taught at University with my father.  My father was a teacher, you know; for thirty years, he taught a class at U Penn on the rise and fall of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.  Anyway, he had this friend, I called him Grandpa Mule Ears, because, well, because of his ears.  They were rather large and gray, like a mule.  Anyway, you know how kids get measured by standing them up against the wall, and making a little pencil mark?"

Tim Tebow nodded.

"Well, Grandpa Mule Ears would measure me by dropping me into a full fish tank.  He would measure the amount of water that was displaced.  He would record his findings in a little book."  She paused. "It...it, it was awful down there.  I would come up with a mouthful of gravel.  I would be tasting fish food in my mouth for a week.  A Neon Tetra took off a piece of my upper lip."

Jamie Shupak burst into tears.  Tim Tebow attempted to comfort her by playing Barry Manilow's "Weekend In New England" on wine glass.  But she continued to sob, until her phone rang.

It was famous boxing commentator Bert Sugar.  He told Jamie that he was quite sure Sonny Liston's head was larger than Vincent D'Onofrio's.  Jamie then put Bert on speakerphone, and he told a long story about Talulah Bankhead and the 1949 Philadelphia Phillies.  By the time Bert got to the punchline -- "Legend has it, they didn't pull Robin Roberts out until 1952!" -- the whole bar was listening and laughing.  Bert had succeeded in cheering Jamie up.