Archive for the ‘Authors’ Category
Jack of No Trade
Friday, July 31st, 2009
Jack stepped out of the elevator at the penthouse floor and walked confidently into the middle of a corporate emergency. He didn’t have a clue why they wanted his help, but what else was new?
A twentysomething in a tailored grey suit, her sandy blond hair pulled into a perfect, tight bun, red-framed glasses clearly for info augmentation not vision, moved to block his advance.
“Excuse me,” she said. “You are?”
“Jack Kamata. You pinged me.”
She waited for her glasses to verify his identity, then nodded and turned to walk away, giving Jack a view of even more perfect, tight buns.
He stared, even as she turned to him again to ask: “How up-to-date is your understanding of international currency arbitrage?”
“Don’t know a thing about it.”
“Perfect,” Tight Buns said. “Come with me.”
“Gladly.” He resisted the urge to spank her as he followed, and settled instead for digitally undressing her.
A brief history of Jack:
– Age 18, 1st job: pizza delivery dude
– Age 34, 57th job: water ionizer salesman
– Age 37, 69th job: perspective consultant
He had never held a job for more than a few months, but he thought “perspective consultant” might work out. He wasn’t stupid or inept, rather easily bored, easily distracted, liked to move to different cities, and had more than a passing obsession with the ladies. The poster child for 21st century drifting. In a time where everyone was so highly specialized, he’d become valuable for his lack of deep knowledge about anything.
He sat in the board room and listened as words and concepts that meant nothing to him were bandied back and forth. When it came his turn to speak, he told the room, from his outsider’s perspective, what seemed right to him. Another job, another thousand bucks, and Tight Buns was quite pleased, which got him a keycard to her apartment, and an official unraveling of her hair.
Post-coitus was business-like for her, Jack-like for him.
“You were great,” she said. “Seriously, Jack. I thought you weren’t good at anything.”
“Well,” he said, “maybe one thing.” Then: “Why are you looking at me like that?”
She stared at him with a smirk on her lips, then zapped him her résumé.
A brief history of Tight Buns:
– Age 21, Accounting degree, Columbia
– Age 23, Harvard MBA
– Age 24, US Department of Purposeful Living
“We hate people like you,” she said. “Really, we do. If it’s any consolation, you made it to number 3 on our most wanted list. Quite the star. We really thought you might have no skills at all.”
“Wait just a minute,” Jack said.
“But I guess there is something you can put on your résumé,” she said. “I’ll post my reference.”
“Fuck,” Jack said. It was like a kick in the teeth. He was now certified for real work. Reluctantly, he pulled up a list of available gigolo jobs.
“Can you give me a lift to the unemployment office?”
Bad Hair Day
Thursday, July 30th, 2009
‘Shoulda worn a better hat,’ says my sister.
‘Yes, thank you,’ I reply, a little testily. ‘Hindsight is twenty-twenty.’
‘Hey, don’t get cranky with me. I did not do this.’ She makes a sweeping gesture with her hand.
Stones as far as the eye can see, big and small. Stone statues, that is.
‘It could have been worse,’ I venture.
‘How precisely?’
I think about it. ‘I’m not entirely sure, but most things can be worse.’
She surveys the damage and sighs. ‘I guess it could have been a parade or something. Something televised – now that would have made this worse.’
I’m kinda touched that she’s being a bit more supportive than usual. The sisterly solidarity doesn’t last though, and she blurts, ‘But honestly, how did this happen??’
‘You said it yourself – hat failure. I wanted a walk in the park,’ I say. ‘It was a beautiful day – how often do I get to Central Park? How often do I get anywhere? Getting hunted by heroes puts a bit of a blip in a social life. Anyway, I didn’t realise how windy it was.’
‘You know, every time you want a social life, we have to change address – and it’s not just cities, is it? It’s countries and continents. And what is it with you and parks, anyway? Can’t you be like a normal monster? You know, skulking in caves? The whole hiding thing a bit too hard for you?’
‘Easy for you, Stheno, you weren’t ever human. You don’t know what it was like. You don’t know what I lost.’ I go to kick at a rock at my feet, realise it used to be a Chihuahua and stop.
‘And why can’t you go out at night?’
‘A park’s not the same a night. Honestly, what have you got for brains?’
We look at the people I turned to stone. ‘Well, we all have to shift again – Euryale isn’t going to be happy. She’s still pissed about Stockholm in 1908.’
‘Hey, Stockholm, we got away with – the Millesgården looks amazing.’
‘You’re paying for the move this time. We’d better go via a bookstore and pick up a new atlas, maybe some Lonely Planet guides. Try and find a new city.’
‘Oh, somewhere with a nice park –‘
‘Medusa!’
‘Okay! Okay!’