original story 12 - the waiter

by bofa xesjum

after a long wait in line outside in the rain, the party of four was finally seated at a corner table of the finest restaurant. the people who rule the world are idiots, matthew pronounced authoritatively as they waited for the waiter to arrive to take their orders. human society needs to be totally torn down and reorganized, mark agreed tentatively. luke slammed her fist on the table. the biggest problem in the world is greed, she thundered. people are bad, they should be good, john whispered subliminally as the waiter finally arrived. the waiter’s name was 533-p. they wore a purple sash and a black mustache and waited patiently for the party to notice them and place their orders. behind 533-p’s back, and behind john’s back, and directly in the line of matthew’s sight, and at odd angles to mark’a and luke’s lines of sight, was the table of another gang of four, heartily devouring their meticulously prepared food. people are lonely, they should get together, war stated, as she shoved a piece of broiled swordfish into her mouth. rich people are rich because poor people are poor, famine asserted, toying with their fork. and poor people are poor because rich people are rich, pestilence added, draining her glass of water. is pestilence agreeing with famine or contradicting them? everything a person does is an expression of themself against the world , death stated, perhaps irrelevantly, as she speared a juicy spiced crab leg on her silver fork. elsewhere in the deafeningly loud restaurant, conversations just as contentious and/or agrreabilatory, were transpiring at a gatling gun pace. 533-p made their way back to the kitchen with matthew’s, mark’s, luke’s and john’s orders ensconced firmly in their brain. although they had duly recorded them on their minitablet, they really had no need to do so, because a) they were an agent of the andromedan empire, on a fact-finding mission to so-called earth b) they were a projection of the world brain, first developed by gilgamesh in uruk in 5007 bc c) the only purpose of art is give voice to the voiceless d) every living creature has a right to its own life, to be free, and to what rightfully belongs to it

original story - 11 - the joke

by bofa xesjum

bruno was sick of people telling him what to do with his life. he was from a long line of rebels who went their own way.. night had finally fallen. and it was cold outside the brightly lit burger king. nothing had prepared him for this moment. he did not think it was funny, would you? did he really know what he wanted to do with his life? noreen made herself a small plate of crackers and cheese and returned to her chair where her book was waiting for her. nobody understands - they all think it is a big joke. make mine a double, henry repeated. or was that sam? and who was sam, anyway? the glass was empty, whoever it belonged to. the temperature continued to fall. and still nicky did not know the true state of affairs. noreen herself did not know quite what to do with her life. would the night ever end? yes, henry was a hard man. and his glass was still empty. bruno stared through the glass at the happy people chewing on their burgers and fries. a slow rage began to burn within him. who was the joke on? whose glass was empty? i warned them, uncle bob told himself. but they kept telling each other what to do with their lives. that’s cold, brother. i heard that. suddenly -

original story - 10 - anger

by bofa xesjum

the glass was empty. don’t underestimate me, bob warned. don’t tell me what to do with my life, nicky repied. it’s cold outside, you understand that, don’t you? i heard that. nothing had prepared bob for this moment. he was not accustomed to people telling him what to do. nobody had ever told nicky the truth about her origins. night had fallen quietly while noreen was reading her novel. it was cold outside. when she resumed her reading, bob was still angry. you think it’s funny, don’t you? he asked nicky. don’t tell me what to do with my life, she repeated. noreen sighed - this was starting to get boring - she decided to skip ahead. you all think it is so funny, don’t you? bob asked yet again. make mine a double, sam declared. nobody has ever told the poor child about her origins, and my glass is empty,. i do not care how underestimated you think you are. the wrong side of the tracks - what an old-fashioned expression! they all kept telling each other what to do with their lives. noreen put the book down and went into the kitchenette. you’re a hard man, henry. my glass is empty. the bear wandered into the parking lot of the burger king. it was cold oiyside but it looked warm inside. i think the joke is on you.

original story - 9 - the original ones

by bofa xesjum

the original joker told a funny joke when the agile reporter tried to tell one of her own, except that a lucky gamble reversed the interrogation. the three kings quivered quietly. all the friendly undertakers chuckled regretfully when the friar and the street preacher hurled quiescent insults at each other behind the parade. calm down and make an effort to understand nothing, the billionaire advised. i heard nothing, the elephant boy expostulated serenely. gratefully, the youthful tyrant made a yearning obeisance to the sad and weary diva.

original story - 8. the window

by bofa xesjum

it looks nasty. it looked nastier last night. we may be obsolete. speak for yourself. i am just trying o be helpful, considering the desperate situation we find ourselves in. you just can’t face reality. > oh, really? whose reality might that be? don’t start. look out the window, what do you see? a river of despair, flowing to a sea of doom. that says it all. ii don’t believe it - i have faith. what about the river of despair? i am confused - i need a drink. after what happened last night? it was all gordon’s fault. gordon doesn’t know anythirthng. that is why it is all his fault. we should get out of town before it is too late. we got out of town that is why we are here, remember how sincere we were? not really - sincere about what? did you hear something? so - you reveal yourself at last. i promised that i would - remember? listen! the knock on the door - who could it be?

original story - 7. the pigeon

by bofa xesjum

you just can’t face reality. what do you call reality? the river flowed to the sea. roger’s fate was sealed when he agreed to lend sarah fifty thousand dollars. eugene promised roger he would stand by him through thick and thin. willie listened at the door of the conference room. all their fates were sealed when willie heard the elevator risig. constance watched willie saunter casually away from the conference room. the pigeon on the window observed eugene’s mouth moving. eugene nodded to constance when she entered thr conference room. he did not ask her where she had been the night before or why she was late for the meeting. i sincerely hope so, daniel boone asserted when eugene finally finished speaking. daniel boone slunk away down the corridor to the elevator, thinking vile thoughts chester caught up with him. what happened to you last night, he asked. daniel gave a long rambling answer, which chester was more than a bit skeptical of. eugene, daniel, constance, and chester were all obsolete. only williw would survive the armageddon. nothing could be further from the truth, willie maintained stoutly when questioned about his behavior by frank and edgar. frank did most of the talking. edgar mostly looked on with a skeptical frown on his face. the truth was never revealed, tomorrow everything may be different. if everyone learns to face reality. but even the obsolete have problems. chester did not believe anything eugene or constance said. > daniel despised them all. they all, even frank and edgar, agreed on one thing - they hoped tomorrow would be different.

original story - 6. funny

by bofa xesjum

dead men tell no tales, bud brown stated diffidently. why are you picking on me again? hogarth asked. picking on you? you do not know what picking on is, brother. i could pick you out of a lineup down at the state police headquarters. you young punks are the problem, always ready to snitch on your pals. i would play ball with you if you would play ball with me. dead men don’t play ball. everything changed the day that lion escaped from the zoo. it is too bad the lion did not tell a few tales. he was all set to, but too many reporters showed up at his trial, and he was afraifd his relatives back in africa would her about it. people do not understand how these things work. some people do. what is that supposed to mean? explain yourself, please. i do not have enough passion or commitment to undertake that task. you always were a whiner, weren’t you? hogarth fell silent, refusing to dignify bud brown’s comment, ad a flower bloomed in a garden on the outskirts of town. young people are the problem - that is just a natural fact. there is not much point in cutting them any slack. the lion is still on the loose, in the hearts of men and women, boys and girls, all over the world. the power of the people runs away like rainwater down a side street. joe stood on the corner, wondering where everybody was. he saw bud brown and hogarth slouching in front of the 7-11 halfway down the block, but they did not count. he tried to remember the heroes of his childhood, who had passion and commitment. he did not think it was funny. he wondered if his old friends with drinks clutched eternally in their hands thought it was funny. somewhere flowers were growing, and bugs were crawling around them. you think it’s funny, don’t you?