After Parté

It was over. The moon shone through, looking like the eye of a scared giant. There was nothing else that could be done about it. The Rabies had performed, making a case for the ultimate value of Rock and Roll. But there was something else afoot here, something that a few thousand plastic cups and loogies couldn’t change. Purple Pendergrass was alone.

Of course, in a sense, we are all alone in our own ways. We come into this world alone – except for the twins - and we leave it alone. But Purple’s aloneness was something more, something different. There was the feeling that love was a cry and that loneliness was a salve, that life could not be more unfair. For the love he had shown all these years to finally be unrequited. To be standing alone in the very stadium where he had first confessed his love. It was funny how things like this came full circle.

Purple looked ahead at the plastic cups and confetti, at the waste and renewal of a franchise. There was no one else. No one. Purple looked ahead and saw that there was one other person. In the distance, on the stage, there stood a lone man. He wasn’t talking with anyone. He was alone, Just like Purple Pendergrass. Just standing there. Did his love leave him too? Did he feel the same way Purple did?

Purple called out to him, thinking that this was his chance to not be lonely again. To make a new friend. To not end up in a worse spot than he was found in. He called once. No answer. Obviously, even a janitor had better things to do. He called again. Suddenly, Purple was inspired to walk up to the man. He didn’t know why. The man looked so inviting in his stillness, so unwavering in his supposed innocence.

Boom

The sound of glass thudding against bone was Purple’s wakeup call. Then everything went black. Purple didn’t know what to do. He turned around, trying to retrace his steps, but then tripped over a barrier.

“Buddy, hold on,” said a familiar voice, who seemed rather nearby. “Buddy, take the helmet off. You scagged.”

Purple instinctively reached for his head and found that there was an oblong instrument strapped around his eyes. He pulled at it at first, but it wouldn’t move. The strap was too tight. He then reached toward the back of his head and unfastened the buckle. As the device slid off his eyes, Purple became aware of two things. First, the room was bright. Brighter than he could ever imagine.

He soon remembered it was the CES show in Little Rock.

“Do you remember where you are, buddy?” said a rather buff character wearing a monogramed t-shirt which said, “Never in Denver.” “You were doing virtual reality, remember?”

Purple thought about his situation. How had he lost himself so far, so deep into the ether? What had happened to his mind? He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He looked around the CES show at the Bolshoi Convention Center in Little Rock, Arkansas, hoping beyond hope. There, in the corner of his eye, he saw her. Her hair was dark black, and so was her flowing dress. She looked like a model, but not the silly kind. The kind you could bring home to mommy. Her face was smooth, and her complexion was dark. Dark chocolate.

He moved over to her with surprising swiftness – not knocking anybody over, but also no slouch.

“Excuse me,” said Purple. “Excuse me, I’m so sorry.”

He came across the Axess Tens booth with its fluffy mascot bear, and that’s where he saw her, standing between booths, looking at her phone.

“Jen,” said Purple, looking inflamed. “Jen, I…”

“What?”

“Jen, I know we broke up, and I’m sorry. I just wanted to know if you’ve had time to think it over. I don’t want to lose you. I just…”

Jen looked at him, and then back at her phone for a moment as she slowly put it in her purse.

“Why did we break up?” said Purple. “It’s been so long I’ve already forgotten.”

“It was fifteen minutes ago.”

“What?”

“I said it was fifteen minutes ago. That’s number one. Number two? You forgot my grandmother’s birthday!”

“I don’t remember. Is she the one who died?”

“Mm-hmm. It was her final birthday. A birthday and a funeral. Sort of like our relationship.”

“Wait a minute. You can’t leave me like that. We’ve only been together for fifteen minutes! Give me a chance!”

“No, we’ve been broken up for fifteen minutes. You are mistaken. We were together for five-and-a-quarter years.”

“Might I ask your favor in a small matter?”

“No.”

“But look. I don’t want us to end on a sour note.”

“She was my grandmother and she died. It doesn’t get any sourer. Why don’t you just go forget someone’s loved one or something. I’ve got to go live on some digital Cheetos in five minutes.”

“Guess what.”

“What?”

“I love you,” said Purple, pointing at her.

“Look, Purple. I only had one grandmother left, and all I asked was that you bring some sour dough bread and a carafe of lippons to her birthday, just one time. That’s all I wanted, and you couldn’t deliver.”

“Well, why don’t we go out and buy some Sour Brite Crawlers and a crate of Lisbon and deliver it to her grave? Right now!”

“Look, Purple, this isn’t working out.”

“Wait, this isn’t working out? You mean we’re back together right now? You mean I have a shot?”

“No, what I’m saying is that I’m double-breaking up with you.”

“What? D-double? You can’t do that!”

Jen then took out a sticker that she had picked up at one of the booths, removed the backing, and placed it on the center of Purple’s forehead.

“I will visit every dead grandma’s grave from now until the end of eternity if you will come over here and be my girlfriend again.”

“Sorry, Purple. I guess it’s time for you to take an alone nap.”

Jen then walked away. Suddenly, there was a commotion all around. The attendees of the CES show were all blowing noisemakers and throwing confetti. The ball had just dropped on Times Square and they were now living in the year 2024.

Later that day, Purple was in his mother’s basement playing video games. It was a dating game. Purple was always so good at these. He thought about his life, his love; the way she would always cut him with words.