King of the Perverts by Steve Lowe Page A

robot. There’s no emotion in his words, very monotone. “How do you know about that?”
    “I was in the audience for the taping of the show’s first episode. But it’s not really a secret at this point. The Dixar website has begun posting short teaser trailers. Just brief bytes pumping a new game show. You’re prominently featured in the latest one. Nice alligator fuckhouse , by the way.”
    “I am?”
    “Yeah, though you can’t really see your face. They made sure not to reveal what any of the contestants look like. But I knew it was you.”
    I look around for Mongo but he’s lost in a sea of drinkers. “You realize the game isn’t over yet, right? I’m not supposed to talk to anyone about it.”
    “I know. But I couldn’t help myself. I want to see you win.”
    “Well, thanks for the support, but – ”
    “You look like you could use a little assistance tonight.”
    “Thanks, but I’m doing just fine on my own.”
    “No you’re not. At this rate, you’ll never get the donkey punch in.”
    I can’t help it and gape at the guy. “How the hell do you know about that?”
    “It’s my hobby.” He pushes his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath. “You can probably tell by my voice that I’m different. I have something called Asperger’s. It’s a form of high-functioning autism. I tend to get very focused on things and obsess over them. It can seem to be weird to other people.”
    Again, he sounds like he’s reading a cue card, or reciting something he’s memorized and uttered many times before. I feel bad for thinking he was a weirdo now. “No, I didn’t notice anything.”
    “It’s OK. I’m used to it. And it’s pretty much true. To most people, the way I act seems very much out of the ordinary, but I rarely realize it until it’s too late. The hard part is not being weird. The hard part is the realization that you are weird and there really isn’t much you can do about it.”
    I don’t feel bad anymore. Now I’m feeling uncomfortable. “Yeah…” What the hell do I say next?
    “And now you’re probably uncomfortable with how open and candid I’m being because until five minutes ago you didn’t know me, but now you know me more than some people you’ve known for five years, and that’s pretty strange as well, having a complete stranger come up to you and unload all of their deficiencies on you, though I don’t look at my Asperger’s as a deficiency. It’s more of a quirk, and sometimes it’s a gift because of my ability to hyper-focus on problems and ideas and figure out complex issues rapidly. I think it has something to do with the fact that I use about forty-three percent more of my brain than most people do.”
    OK, fuck, now I’m scared again. It’s creepy the way this dude is reading my mind.
    “And now you’re probably getting freaked out because I can tell exactly what you’re thinking like I can read your mind, but really it comes down to prior experience with similar social situations, as well as my uncanny ability to predict what people will do in – ”
    “OK, fuck, just stop doing that!”
    Jack Mehoff pushes his glasses up his nose. It’s such a cliché nerd thing to do. I wonder if he’s doing it on purpose just to fuck with me. He opens his mouth to speak again and I cut him off quick before he can repeat my thoughts back to me one more time.
    “Look, I’m sorry for yelling at you. I didn’t mean to do it because I was mad, you were just starting to … well, you were starting to creep me out a little bit.”
    “I know. I have that effect on people. I’ll try to stop doing that, but I won’t notice when you’re getting uncomfortable so you’ll have to tell me. Don’t worry about offending me. I actually prefer when people tell me things like that, because I can’t process it on my own.”
    “OK, Jack. I will make sure to tell you from now on when you’re creeping me the fuck out. Jack? Right now, you’re sort