Wednesday, November 6, 2013

A story based on a dream, the dream was better

There is a party in a fairly upscale part of Hollywood. There are a lot of big names there, or at least that is what the host, Juan, is told. He doesn't know just about anyone at the party, though he thinks he recognizes some of them. Juan is fairly short and has short black wear, often wearing the single cheap suit that he owns. He is socializing with everyone, making sure to get his name spread around because at least someone has to remember the host right? This is what he believes, and though it is a tad farcical he may be right, someone will remember him.

He is not alone at this party however, as his boyfriend is also there. His name is Tom and he has been an extra in several films. Juan knows he has been cheating on him, and he knows who with. There is a movie producer named Robert who lives at approximately the half-way point between their two houses, and they have been doing nefarious deeds for sometime now. He has no proof of course, but he knows it deep down in his heart and it is killing him.

That is not the face he puts on at the party however, as he makes sure to greet every guest with the same big smile, and the same compliments about hair or skin or clothes. It has never really mattered to him but he knows appearance is of utmost importance to so many of these other people. He is waiting for someone, though he isn't really sure quite who. He knows it is crucial that he looks for them at the party however, so he wanders around looking for this person who is of utmost importance. On his way he runs into Tom and they simply stare at one another.

"I'm so glad to see you here. It's quite busy here isn't it, really full party. This will be good for you right?" This was Tom, in his surest tones. "I mean I see, a lot of big names. Surprised so many could come really." He looks casually around.

"Yes, it's fantastic, really. I'm sorry I can't really talk now though, got lots of socializing to do." Juan placed emphasis on the word socializing as he stared at Tom. It seemed he didn't get the hint though, and they both walked off like two ships passing in the night. Bastard, Juan thought. He passed someone he thought might be a famous actor but upon tapping his shoulder it turned out to be no one, just a drunk amongst a horde of them. Shrugging his shoulders Juan walked on. He wonders if everyone is just lying to him about this party, if everyone there is just a bunch of no names like him and this entire thing was pointless.

He doesn't let such negative thoughts linger for too long however, he had someone important to find. He guessed he had searched his entire apartment so squeezed past a couple dancing before emerging onto the tiny balcony that overlooked the industrial portion of the city. He had thought there was no one out there, but just as he was beginning to get lost in his own thoughts a quiet voice spoke up next to him.

"Quite a view isn't it? I've always admired the works of humanity. The trash and the treasure." Juan turned to look at the man. He stood at about six feet tall and was completely unassuming otherwise, wearing a white button-down shirt and black pants, with a plain black tie. If he had to guess this man was an accountant, or maybe a shoe salesman. "I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself. I'm just an observer, not one of these Hollywood types. Hmm, yes it's a nice view."

"Um, yeah I guess it is."

"It really isn't though. That's what all the people here will tell you, that it's a nice view. They'll only say that if you say it first though." Now the man was staring into Juan's eyes and he realized there was something strange about this man. His eyes were incredibly intense, and they had so little color that they seemed to blend in with the rest of his face, just a little black dot that showed where he was looking. "Do you keep your cash underneath your bed or in your toilet?"

"The bed. I mean what?"

"Thank you, that's all I need to know. I bid you good night."

"But, but I don't even know who you are."

"Me, I'm no one. Just a regular Joe Schmoe I suppose. Sorry for taking your time." And with that he left and Juan was left alone on the balcony like he always thought he was. He stared out at all the waste that was made, human and otherwise, and wondered what it was all for. He was not sure how long he was out there, but by the time he went back inside there was almost no one left. Tom had left, as had everyone who was worth anything, or at least those who said they were. It didn't really matter though as Juan collapsed to the one seat that seemed relatively clean.

Across from him sat a man in a suit from some upscale dress outlet, Juan could never tell them apart. He figured he should start a conversation, but his mind was in such a strange place he couldn't even think to ask the man who he was or what he did. "Hello, I was wondering, do you think hitmen feel bad when they kill murderers?" That was an odd thing to say Juan thought even as he spoke. The other man stared at him, not confused but somewhat amused.

"Well in the end most hitmen are simply people like us right, regular Joe Schmoes. They probably don't feel good, but they also don't feel too bad right. It's just a job in the end, admittedly a bit more exciting than what you do." He had a point Juan supposed as he lay back in his seat. It had been a long night and sleep slowly curled around him and his eyes slowly closed as he saw a few people pass by heading for the door. It had been a good party he thought, after all he met someone important, maybe even more than one. Just before he lost all consciousness he saw the door close one more time and a receipt was tacked to the back of it. He couldn't see what it said.

No comments:

Post a Comment