IX – SAM

One man stand

From behind the curtain, I could see the people on the tables were busy with their drinks and private conversations. Probably too busy to pay any attention to me. That was probably for the better. It was my first time on stage and I was nervous enough already without having every face in the audience staring at me.

The lights in the room dimmed down and a spotlight was instantly aimed at the rather small stage. I noticed that the murmur of conversation decreased almost immediately. It looked as if they were more interested in me than I had first thought.. Either that or Lyle had probably threatened them some way.

Speaking of the Boogie-Man, I saw him climbing up to the stage and prayed that he would call the show off, but of course he didn't. Why would he? I hadn't told him anything about my discomfort. And even if I had, he probably would have just patted me on the back and told me to go out there.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Lyle, grabbing the microphone, “thank you all for being here... on your own free will... most of you...” He made a pause, expecting some laughs, but he only received silent stares. “Er... Well, aren't you a tough crowd. It looks like you don't want to know where your loved ones are buried.” The audience broke out laughing. “Now, without any further ado, it gives me great pleasure to announce a man who is as good in sweeping as he is in cleaning, even though he's not a janitor or a germophobic. Ladies and gentlemen, Sam Atlee!”

Lyle stepped aside and joined the audience at the welcome clapping as I entered the stage and placed myself under the spotlight, feeling like I had a sniper aiming at me.

I took another step forward and grabbed the microphone. I gazed at the crowd, trying to locate some vacant spot to where I could speak to, and noticed the dumbstruck faces of Sydney and Broots staring at me. I swallowed hard and nodded at them. They nodded back, which did nothing to calm my nerves.

Here you go, Sammy boy.

“Hi, everyone. I'm sorry I didn't get here on time. The traffic was a goat. I'm watching my language here, otherwise the author will have to change the rating.

“I don't know if you can tell it just by looking at me, but I'm feeling a little nervous. Which is not typical with me. Usually, I'm a very calm and collected individual. Just so you have an idea, when I was about 11 or 12 years old, I was run over by a car and an interesting thing happened. Not the run-over, that wasn't interesting at all. For a moment there I was afraid I would have to use a cone around my neck like my dog Henzo.”

Some people at the audience chuckled a bit. I saw it as a good sign and continued.

“Anyway, as I was lying on the floor, withering in pain, the driver stopped his car and ran to me. He knelt down to see how much I was hurt. I could tell he was really worried, but all I could think about was that he'd left his taillights on.”

That got me some laughs and some sympathy looks. There were also some pleading looks – most likely from people who had loved ones buried alive somewhere – but I couldn't afford to worry about them right then. I had a show to perform.

Hey! Could you make me not so insensitive? The readers will think I'm a monster!

It wasn't my intention, sorry.

“I see we have a full house tonight. This may be my first time on stage, but I think I should talk to my manager about charging tickets. Don’t get me wrong. It's great being here, you all seem to be truly wonderful people but I don't think I'm getting the compensation I deserve.

“I tried to renegotiate my contract with Mr. Lyle, but the man used to manage a top secret organization – I'll get to that –, while I... did not. To make a long story short, he tried to push me a new deal: seventy percent in cash, and the rest in leftovers. I said to him: No thank you, Mr. Lyle. I’m starting a new diet now. Doctor’s orders: no Asians for you, señor Atlee.”

Lyle laughed a lot, but he was the only one. Sydney and Broots, on the other hand, looked quite uncomfortable with the veiled reference to cannibalism,

It wasn't that veiled.

while the rest of the audience simply didn't get it.

“And now, what you all have been waiting for: the news!” I drew a sheet of paper from my breast pocket and put on my best TV anchor impersonation.

“The IRS arrested a homeless man for suspicions of tax evasion. Apparently, someone gave him a coin and he forgot to declare it. Turns out, he found the coin by accident. Once he paid the tax for unnecessary processing he was released.

“A woman in Nowheresville – I don't know if this is made up or not – is complaining for being the single woman in her village who hasn't been a victim of abuse. She plans to sue for discrimination. Or bad performance. Whichever comes first.

“Money laundering companies are looking for a new detergent to wash the bills. Finally! I don't know about you, but I'm glad I'll finally be able to hold a dollar bill without wearing latex gloves.

“A man fell from the fiftieth floor while washing the window. He died.”

The crowd tried to disguise it, but I could see some people laughing.

“It was a quick death,” I added.

“A group of culinary scientists, more commonly known as cooks, discovered that junk food is not really made of junk. Also, another group discovered that people who don't breathe can die.” After folding the paper back into my breast pocket, I continued.

“I don't know what's going on lately with scientific research these days. Don't these people have anything else to study? It's like ever since The Centre shut down, there's no one out there doing any kind research worth mentioning.

“You remember The Centre, right? For those who've been hiding under a hole for the last month,” I noticed some troubled faces among the crowd, “no pun intended, The Centre used to be a think-tank on the outskirts of Delaware, in a little town called Blue Cove. Don't bother look it up on a map: it doesn't exist.

“Anyway, The Centre has been on the spotlight ever since they closed. No one knows what caused it yet – I heard someone commenting they probably forgot to pay their rent – but I know what kind of work they did there, so it's probably a good thing it's not around anymore.

“Speaking about secret companies, let me ask you this: how secret are they? Let's use The Centre as an example again. They were in the open market, they had businesses with the government and other legal entities, they had a public headquarters. Where's the secrecy?

“If we're talking about secret as something few people are aware of, then perhaps secret is not the best word; maybe we ought to call it poorly advertised.

“Secret companies can not be secret. Not totally. For one thing, the people who work there know they exist. The people who design the buildings where those companies operate know they exist; the people who build the buildings where those companies operate know they exist.

“And now some of you are probably thinking: Well, they are a secret to people outside the company.

“People outside the company. Hmm. Okay. That means everyone who’s not employed there, right? So my question to you is: how do they hire?

“You can’t hire someone to work at a secret company without divulging the company’s existence. Unless, they do it like this.”

I cleared my throat a bit. This was the part where I did voices.

“Well, Mr. Harris, we have read your resumé and I have to say we are very interested in hiring you for a job at our company.

“That’s very nice. But... I still don’t know the company’s name.

“I’m afraid you can't be privy to that information.

“Okay… So, where’s it located?

“You’re not clear to know that yet.

“Can I least know what will my job consist of?

“No, you can’t. In fact, if you mention this conversation to anyone, including me, I will kill you.

“I promise I won’t tell.

“Then a big smile. Welcome to the company! And both men shake hands.

“It’s all about advertising. Most of these companies have a bad reputation but, like everything else in life, not every secret company has evil purposes behind their actions. Some have noble or at least not so evil purposes to achieve. They’re just ridiculous from a sane man’s point of view. Like building an airfield for the return of the cosmic gods or gathering a million people across the globe to jump all together at the same place, at the same time, to save the world from global warming; or something even crazier than that.

“Unfortunately, most of them have criminal intents to guide their actions. Which is really not that bad, if you think about it.

“The truth is, and this may shock some of you, crime is necessary. Really. What would the cops do without crimes to solve? Sit around and do nothing? Help old ladies cross the road?

“And what would happen if crime happened to be completely removed from society? Have you ever think about this? Probably sounds like a good thing, right? No more murder, no more stealing, no more kidnapping, no more reality shows...

“Now think about this headline: «Entire family slaughtered in cold blood. Police has no clues». Who are the victims here?

“The family? The family is dead. All of them. It's sad, but that means more job vacancies, less pensions; perhaps a new car to the undersecretary’s daughter, who knows?

“The police? Until they find the person who's responsible for the murder – if there is one – they have something to keep themselves occupied with.

“Most people only see the negative aspects of a body dump, an arson or a gang-rape. I see it as a justification. If we pay taxes to finance the police, then we should see some leg-work. Even if they're not, they should always look busy.

“I know, I know. Some of you probably consider this to be of extremely poor taste. Speaking of which, have you tried Lyle's souffle? No? Then don't. Back to the point, I understand that point of view. I do. And I think it's stupid. I don't mean it as an offense. It’s just that I think it’s easier to refuse an idea rather than proposing an alternative.

“That’s the problem with people these days. Everyone has complaints, but very few have ideas or solutions. And I admit some of my ideas may sound stupid and ineffective, but at least I’m not afraid to tell them. I prefer to let others decide for themselves instead of censuring myself and not uttering a word.

“You know where stupidity could be very useful? Court sessions. Imagine the defendant’s lawyer. One of the most common defenses used is what is known as temporary insanity.

Your honor, my client was not himself at the time. Still can’t understand how this works if an actor shoots a colleague during a rehearsal. Who committed the crime? The actor or the character?

“Anyway, back to my idea. We have temporary insanity. What I propose is temporary stupidity.

“Something like this:

Your honor, my client was stupid.

And the judge would go:

What about now, is he still stupid?

No, now he’s just dumb.

Okay, he can go home then.

“It's a stupid idea, I know it is. But it’s mine. And I can express it. I can say what’s on my mind, anywhere and anytime I want. Well, not exactly. There are some places where language is still under watch. Movies, music, etc. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? That Parental Advisory seal. Explicit Lyrics. They do it to prevent minors from being in contact with that sort of contents.

“You remember Adam and Eve? Adam and Eve lived in Paradise and God told them: Do not eat the apple! What did they do? They ate the apple.

“It’s human nature. Kids will watch violent movies and some times the only reason they do that is because of a stupid sticker that was put there because at some point someone says Crap!.

“So I wonder; if the idea is to warn people about bad, deceiving, immoral language, why not put on a sign every time we see a politician speaking on the television? Or every time we open a newspaper and read something about the government’s agreement with an oil company? Anything that makes us wonder about what their real intentions are should have the seal: Political Advisory – Implicit Crap!

“That’s all for tonight, folks! Thank you so much for coming!”

I bowed a few times and stepped away from the stage.

That was good, Sam.

You think?

Let's wait for the reviews. But I think I'm seeing Carnegie Hall just up ahead.

That's a lamppost.

I meant figuratively.

Oh.

THE END