I'll be brief on this - one of my fingers looks like it's been bitten by a very tiny, very confused vampire and it hurts to type (It's more painful than it looks but you still shouldn't click it because it's a finger and honestly not a very nice looking one at that).
I was at a party the other night and a Ralph told me about this game they have with their friends whenever they're bored. They pick three random things and try to come up with a story involving all three completely random things that ties together and keeps the listener entertained.
"Well alright" I said, flexing my creativity muscles (read: asscheeks) "Give me three things". Ralph turned to me and stated as if it were the most normal collection of words in the entire universe "Flying horse, Electric Zebra and Fairy floss".
All at once several ideas began to race through my head. Within seconds I had created an entire world specifically for these two entities to fight it out over their delicious sugary prize. Cocksure, I turned back to Ralph and said "Easy! A flying horse has an epic battle with an electric zebra over fairy floss".
As soon as these words left my mouth I realised just how stupid they sounded out there all by themselves. I had thrown my entire story out in the wilderness with just a few words and no actual details to defend itself with. It was at this point I remembered that I'm terrible at articulating what I'm actually trying to say in conversation with another person in front of me.
This is something that I struggle with pretty much all the time, talking to girls I like, talking to people I don't know, talking in front of a large audience - when it comes to these things I get extremely quiet and start playing out hundreds of different conversations in my head, all at the same time, like some sort of fucking socially awkward chess master (although terrible at chess) and when I do say something I'm pretty sure I become five years old and lose my entire vocabulary. This is probably normal for everyone and I'm probably overplaying it to stretch out a point but moving towards being able to talk openly about things would make me feel a lot better about myself. It might also give me a bigger ego.
Moving on!
Part 1.
It was a regular Wednesday evening for me, the sign on the door read closed from the inside - but it might as well have the same word printed on the outside for the amount of business I was getting. I stared down at the streets through the blinds on the only window in the office. The people walking the streets below were the usual characters - prostitutes, their handlers, dealers and the odd cop trying not to notice any of the others out of fear for their own safety and a lack of interest in dealing with the paperwork later. None of them ever looked up. Nobody in this city ever takes the time to look up and see the things happening right in front of them. Funny how while thinking about how these people never looked up I myself was doing the exact same thing, looking down at them.
Lost in thought I didn't notice the latch on my door open with a soft click, I didn't notice the click of heels walking with a sultry rhythm towards my desk. What I did notice when I finally turned around was the legs attached to those feet. I remained calm and followed the criss-cross lines of the stockings for what seemed like forever all the way along to the dame sitting in the chair I reserve for people who pay me money. I filled my lungs with the last of the cigarette I had hanging out of my mouth and placed it down.
Exhaling slowly I asked her if she was lost.
"I think I'm right where I need to be" she said in a voice whose air of calmness was undermined by the makeup running down her face. "It hasn't rained in weeks, what's with the face?". She opened up her purse and drew out a handkerchief, dabbing the smudges off her face. She was wearing a miniskirt and long coat that draped over my chair in just the right way to make your imagination run wild. Her lips were trembling but her dark brown eyes were focussed completely on me, as if breaking contact would send her into hysterics. "I need help".
"That's generally what people come here for" I said, moving another cigarette to my mouth. "Most of the time they're in the wrong place though - why not go to the cops?" I took a step back and leaned against the wall, staring out into the street again.
"The cops can't help, or rather - they won't help"
My interest was piqued.
"I charge by the day, $200. Plus a grand if I get results". I said, observing a slight shock in her face. I didn't come cheap, but I was the best, and I could get away with charging these prices. "And I do get results".
"Done - my brother was murdered".
I hesitated. These cases almost never ended well. I walked over to the table and looked her directly in eyes that could break the wildest of stallions if they ever so much as watered up from a dry breeze.
"Give me the skinny" I said with authority.
She sang like a bird - apparently her brother had gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd, a bunch of thugs on the east side of town. He was found last week at the old fairground spreadeagled next to the ferris wheel - he'd gotten some fairy floss and climbed up to the top and decided to take a dive. Somehow he managed to emulate a brick in his flight pattern and ended up in the exact same place a brick would.
"I heard about that - doesn't seem like murder to me, sounds like the kid wanted to escape this hell hole like the rest of us, he just happened to take the easy way out".
She got up and slapped me. I deserved it.
She was looking out the window now - "What they didn't include in the news reports was that his entire body was scorched by lightning, you said it yourself - there hasn't been rain in weeks, let alone a storm that could have done this to him."
Silence. I could see tears welling up in her eyes on the reflection of the window.
"I'll take the case".
I was at a party the other night and a Ralph told me about this game they have with their friends whenever they're bored. They pick three random things and try to come up with a story involving all three completely random things that ties together and keeps the listener entertained.
"Well alright" I said, flexing my creativity muscles (read: asscheeks) "Give me three things". Ralph turned to me and stated as if it were the most normal collection of words in the entire universe "Flying horse, Electric Zebra and Fairy floss".
All at once several ideas began to race through my head. Within seconds I had created an entire world specifically for these two entities to fight it out over their delicious sugary prize. Cocksure, I turned back to Ralph and said "Easy! A flying horse has an epic battle with an electric zebra over fairy floss".
As soon as these words left my mouth I realised just how stupid they sounded out there all by themselves. I had thrown my entire story out in the wilderness with just a few words and no actual details to defend itself with. It was at this point I remembered that I'm terrible at articulating what I'm actually trying to say in conversation with another person in front of me.
This is something that I struggle with pretty much all the time, talking to girls I like, talking to people I don't know, talking in front of a large audience - when it comes to these things I get extremely quiet and start playing out hundreds of different conversations in my head, all at the same time, like some sort of fucking socially awkward chess master (although terrible at chess) and when I do say something I'm pretty sure I become five years old and lose my entire vocabulary. This is probably normal for everyone and I'm probably overplaying it to stretch out a point but moving towards being able to talk openly about things would make me feel a lot better about myself. It might also give me a bigger ego.
Moving on!
Part 1.
It was a regular Wednesday evening for me, the sign on the door read closed from the inside - but it might as well have the same word printed on the outside for the amount of business I was getting. I stared down at the streets through the blinds on the only window in the office. The people walking the streets below were the usual characters - prostitutes, their handlers, dealers and the odd cop trying not to notice any of the others out of fear for their own safety and a lack of interest in dealing with the paperwork later. None of them ever looked up. Nobody in this city ever takes the time to look up and see the things happening right in front of them. Funny how while thinking about how these people never looked up I myself was doing the exact same thing, looking down at them.
Lost in thought I didn't notice the latch on my door open with a soft click, I didn't notice the click of heels walking with a sultry rhythm towards my desk. What I did notice when I finally turned around was the legs attached to those feet. I remained calm and followed the criss-cross lines of the stockings for what seemed like forever all the way along to the dame sitting in the chair I reserve for people who pay me money. I filled my lungs with the last of the cigarette I had hanging out of my mouth and placed it down.
Exhaling slowly I asked her if she was lost.
"I think I'm right where I need to be" she said in a voice whose air of calmness was undermined by the makeup running down her face. "It hasn't rained in weeks, what's with the face?". She opened up her purse and drew out a handkerchief, dabbing the smudges off her face. She was wearing a miniskirt and long coat that draped over my chair in just the right way to make your imagination run wild. Her lips were trembling but her dark brown eyes were focussed completely on me, as if breaking contact would send her into hysterics. "I need help".
"That's generally what people come here for" I said, moving another cigarette to my mouth. "Most of the time they're in the wrong place though - why not go to the cops?" I took a step back and leaned against the wall, staring out into the street again.
"The cops can't help, or rather - they won't help"
My interest was piqued.
"I charge by the day, $200. Plus a grand if I get results". I said, observing a slight shock in her face. I didn't come cheap, but I was the best, and I could get away with charging these prices. "And I do get results".
"Done - my brother was murdered".
I hesitated. These cases almost never ended well. I walked over to the table and looked her directly in eyes that could break the wildest of stallions if they ever so much as watered up from a dry breeze.
"Give me the skinny" I said with authority.
She sang like a bird - apparently her brother had gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd, a bunch of thugs on the east side of town. He was found last week at the old fairground spreadeagled next to the ferris wheel - he'd gotten some fairy floss and climbed up to the top and decided to take a dive. Somehow he managed to emulate a brick in his flight pattern and ended up in the exact same place a brick would.
"I heard about that - doesn't seem like murder to me, sounds like the kid wanted to escape this hell hole like the rest of us, he just happened to take the easy way out".
She got up and slapped me. I deserved it.
She was looking out the window now - "What they didn't include in the news reports was that his entire body was scorched by lightning, you said it yourself - there hasn't been rain in weeks, let alone a storm that could have done this to him."
Silence. I could see tears welling up in her eyes on the reflection of the window.
"I'll take the case".
ehhhehe I'm excited! I want MOAR
ReplyDeleteFun fact! This is the story in my head that I was unable to articulate at the party!
Delete