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Funny Contemporary

Again I was rejected by yet another girl. Sitting all alone in my living room with my only friend, who never leaves me, six packs, I turned TV on. I haven’t watched it for some time, since last night. Drinking beer I was changing channels, thinking either I was crazy, can’t hold on any girl or job or everybody else is. Solving this equation requires another beer, or better two. One silly announcement pulls me out of my futile thoughts – for 19.99 Euros everyone is eligible for time capsule draw. Who in their right mind would fall for such cheap trick? There are much better ways to spend that money as I was looking at the last beer in my hand.

What would one put in it anyhow? People value themselves and their things very highly. I don’t possess much and surely wouldn’t want to lose it, even for some scientific research. Let me think, I have pretty eyes, most girls agreed on it, thinking I couldn’t be worse than some fellow they dated before me; just for me to prove them wrong very soon (those eyes ought go together with smart guys but nature is unpredictable). If I give them away, my finest feature, that could be very painful and tragic. On the other hand my nose and organ down there are pretty large. However, one needs something in the middle of the face, even if it is close relative to Cyrano de Bergerac’s and for the other thing, although it is parked as in some dark, cold and deep garage, there is always a new day, new opportunity. For our descendants who would open that time capsule, they would surely wonder of which ape they emanated from, questioning their own good sense.

Out of beer, I was restless, swearing girls and bosses for not having anything to do with me. I remembered I had a key to my neighbor’s lock, who was always away. When he gave it to me, he wanted for somebody to water his magnificent plants. Again my lovely eyes played the part. He was furious, when he discovered how I was “watering” them. He threatened to sue me, marching into my dirty small flat, looking around in contempt and disgust.

“You poor little mouse.” Then he saw the collection of records which I inherited from my grandma, the only person who liked anything else but my beautiful dark-browned eyes.

“In compensation, I would take a few of this, Frank Sinatra and Barbra and some Nat King Cole and few of these. Use proper water from now on”, not looking at me or the mess in the flat on the way out. I was satisfied with the result and my little prank, the single one I was pulling out since kindergarten. Ever since that incident, I was behaving as a good boy should in his apartment, with a huge terrace, overlooking the harbor. No wonder, many girls enjoy his companionship.

This evening, things were very different as there was little to lose for me. I opened his fridge and took some beer, on offering. It was foreign stuff, but I enjoyed all of it. On the way out, I “borrowed” 200 Euros, from his cabinet. He won’t miss it.

I was behind the TV watching some silly program, when that commercial popped out. They really bored with it, but drinking Australian beer, I thought they only have whiskey, sharks and sheep, I listened carefully to the announcement. Monday, 3 P.M. was the last day for you to bring your most valuable belongings and got famous one hundred years from now. The idea, of getting famous, stuck with my drunken head as I was watching those 200 Euros in front of me.

“There would be quite enough for beer after”, I yelled at the opposite wall, smiling like crazy. I found a clean, white box and gazed across my sorry old place for some valuable thing, for anything but without any luck. There was nothing. Suddenly, I got up on my feet, falling down two or three times and barging into his fantastic apartment. Friday night, he was obviously on some important quest, trying to get a girl or two back home. There was no beer anymore, only some Chilean wine in fine bottles. I didn’t like anything Tuscan, except pizza, of course, but I wasn’t in a situation to choose anything or anybody so I took the lot back to my flat. Such lovely flagons found themselves for the first time in a hostile environment. Opening and drinking it from the bottle, like beer, that was my thing. I felt sick after the third one and there was no time to reach the bathroom. Luckily, a pile of garbage, close to my armchair, prevented stains on the rug. Now, I could open another one. As I was bringing it to my head, epiphany struck me for the first time in my sorry existence. I had to look at the flagon first, it was really an enlightening beverage. I knew what I should box the century upfront. The records, my inheritance. I was so happy cuddling the wine as it was my sweetheart, gently putting it by my side.

Yelling in and out woke part of my brain. The other part was dead. Massive headache and vertigo as I wanted to get up, with screams coming from unidentified sources and directions.

“You son of a bitch. That does it. Prepare yourself for a massive lawsuit. Where are my records? That is Chilean finest! Each bottle costs more than your silly, small flat, you dog, you piece of shit. Do you hear me? I will come back and I will, I will…” Normally tranquil, relaxed and easy-going my neighbor turned into a wild beast as I took some of his precious Tuscan wine. If I wasn’t having a hangover the size of Mount Kilimanjaro or similar in that bloody Asia I would open the door and show him what I think of people coming to my flat early on Saturday morning. Too bad I don’t have a girlfriend, I would use a coffee right now. I turned TV, on mute just in case, reading news, holding my stupid head. Somehow I realized it is Monday and around noon. There was another commercial of that time capsule. I tried to find the box and the money. There was everything in living quarters, beer cans, broken glass, spilled wine, not to mention vomit near the wall and halfway to the bathroom. I was thinking with headache doubling, if possible. Part of my brain reacted and I kind of remembered white box, me putting many things in and out, me walking naked to his apartment and jumping naked there, me taking my records from there, me naked on the fire escape…

Slowly, as I could do things only in that fashion, I put some clothes on and took the fire escape route. The box was there together with the money. I ran down in slow-motion and jumped in my car. I have forgotten the keys. I left the box and the money and climbed up. It was really like an expedition on mountain Malawi in the Andes as I was remembering some Nat Geo program earlier this month. There was the problem of starting the car, but a chilly and cold day together with my exercise up and down some African hills, gave me enough awareness to reach the coffee shop. I drank double late and without a minute to spare drove my box to future annals.   

Gorgeous girl, beauty and the brains, was on the entrance, receiving late claims for the capsule. I tried all my charm and beautiful eyes on her. However I was blinking a lot, the hangover ached and my feet didn’t comply with the rest of my body.

“John, my fellow, what are you doing here?” – The voice behind me, with a lot of irony and disrespect in it surprised and put me in an awkward situation. I had to turn around, but I couldn’t know how. It was impossible for someone in my state. I waited for him to get in the vision, smiling with my eyes on the hostess. She stiffly smiled back and her eyes gloved only when he showed his face in front of me. My nemesis from the school and after, a truly disgusting guy, at least in my mind. For others, basically everybody, he was a cross between Brad Pitt, Apollo and some Scandinavian hero-god. As she took his hand, I realized they are perfect for each other and I didn’t like it at all. His wide smile, showing his perfect teeth and her beautiful black curly hair of African origins together, made me sick. But I had to stay calm.

“I was watching some TV and… here I am”, I opened my arms, trying not to fall on my enormous nose.

“Here is your number. If selected, immediately it will be put in time titanium capsule that couldn’t be open for 100 hundred years. It could survive any conditions”, she finished looking beside me, not knowing what to think of the drunken fool in front of them. I decided to gaze at the spot behind her left shoulder with no interest in what is going in front. She put her arm upfront and I grabbed her smooth skin and long fingers, but she pulled it back instantly.

“We need your specimen, not your moist, sweaty hands”, his voice, real manly one, was like a cold knife cutting me into pieces.   

I tried to smile, but only a part of my saliva came out. She was carrying the box as far from her body as possible. I turned to leave with his voice stopping my stumbling feet:

“We need payment.”

“Yes, of course, I turned swiftly and his perfect suit and smile wasn’t that anymore, with her screaming, trying to clean him. I was in the parking lot for a split second. However I stayed there, since there was no petrol.

In the dead of the night I climbed back in my flat. From the neighboring apartment there was loud music as oldies Frank Sinatra, Nina Simone and others were following each other. Sober and restless I crashed on my dirty couch. The fine tunes annoyed me as I was sure something isn’t right. I couldn’t find my personal belongings, credit card, mobile phone, money for rainy days. I got courage and put light on. That stupid advocate neighbor could kiss my ass, I was thinking, going from one end to another, in a single footstep, searching for anything beside bottles and cans. It was uncanny for him to steal them as he obviously took my, I mean his, records back. I was on his oak door knocking them with only a slight sound heard.  

“Who is it?” – Ironic and soft voice answered my, trying to be wild, outburst.

“Don’t be smart”, I screamed, “where are my things? They are mine, you won’t fool me.”

“The records are mine and the key. I have no interest in any other of your stuff, as you called them.”

Sincerity in his voice brought me to some senses.

“So you didn’t take away my 1000 for rainy days?” – There was hope in my voice that he actually did it and he will return it as a good guy and neighbor should despite my anti-behavior. Wild laughing behind the door freezes me – what the hell I did with my personal belongings. Returning to the flat with Frank Sinatra singing:

“I did it my way…”   

I was blue as the child who lost his only and favorite toy. I turned the TV on, my last valuable thing on this Earth. It was the local news of the day. My number was chosen, I finally won something. I jumped up, hitting my head on chandelier which broke, stupid inheritance from other grandma. Holding my bloody head I realized what I put in the time capsule, lost for any screams or cries.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

October 07, 2020 20:11

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3 comments

Michael Boquet
21:50 Oct 14, 2020

I like that the "stream of consciousness" style of your story fits your main character. However, the story itself is very hard to read. I got the gist but other things make no sense. Why did he have to pay to get something in the time capsule and why would inclusion make him famous? Your story needs a good proofreading. If that's not your strong suit, try reading it aloud. That technique helps me.

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12:43 Oct 15, 2020

Thx for advice, there isn‚t enough time since it is only severaI days to come with the story, write it as I don‚t speak English everyday /Balkan resident/only write a little bit. Only one item would be put in the time capsule, it actually is the way to trick people for 19,99 Euros. Getting famous in the future, when you are dead, burned and buried is just a joke. Cruel one. I am reading your story at the moment, it seems interesting.

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Michael Boquet
13:00 Oct 15, 2020

Oh, okay. Now that I get it, that is pretty funny. Posthumously famous.

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