Gotta Light

GOTTA LIGHT

BY MICHAEL CULLINAN

Jan. 2006











Despair had entered the interview room, announced hisself, and settled like a cloud of dust. Her office was like a tomb where he was slowly dying and the urge to escape loomed large in Bills head. It was one of those new age offices. Cold, antiseptic, like a hospital waiting room. Her question was a simple one, yet it had scared Bill, he knew it was coming and still was caught off guard. What a dumb ass. The fear had taken root in his little tummy, like a vicegrip on his wellbeing. Wanted to get drunk, needed to. The good haze of a drunk would take swift care of all these thorns. No can do, he had a commitment, besides he was almost broke. He needed a job. A lot of people were lousy on interviews.

"I said Bill, did you finish college. Did you graduate?" This woman was attractive enough, though scary, like Medusa or Medea whoever. He didnt like her. She was treating him in a very condescending manner. He could feel rivulets of sweat rolling around on his head, reached a finger up to itch, then felt stupid for doing so. She might think he had scabies.

"Um no, I didnt. I was going through some difficult personal things then. At that point I was dealing with some problems."

"I see, do you mind if I ask you what those problems might have been." Did she say bean?

"Well, mainly drinking, which of course affected me mentally. I was'nt treating my responsibilities too well. I'm off now though. On the wagon. On the mend." He hit the arm of his chair to emphasize his seriousness on this issue. It was a gamble, a shot in the dark. He didnt have prayer.

The interviewer ate this all in, said I see and then made one of those noises people make in their throats. Honesty was way overrated. This woman was too attractive to let a goofball like him slide. Sharp Teutonic features and the smooth tanned skin of the self important, she couldnt abide weakness of any sort. She operated in the manner of a beautiful woman in a power position. She goddamned earned it. To her, Bill oozed failure.

Bill sensed all of this and so, to dissuade this feeling of worthlessness, Bill imagined her nude on her hands and knees. Only this provided small comfort. He was smiling at her. He then decided to at least go out with a bang. Give em something to think about when he was gone.

" Well look, how about a test of some sort. You could give me a script to look at, something youve read, and I can write you a review. Then that would determine whether I could handle the position or not. How would that be? I would really appreciate the opportunity." He was a writer damn it. Let these fools try ripping his lungs out.
" I could be quite good. I've had some noticeable reviews."

Was she softening a bit? " I'm sure, I just dont see them here. Bill, let me consider it and Ill let you know."

" Ok sure, let me know. That would be great. Thank you for your time." He needed a cigarette. Take it easy now. They shook hands and she gave him a smile, secure in her power over him. Bill was relieved, at least he had given it to her straight. Honesty. Honest Bill. He used to be a liar.

Walking down Lexington, he spotted a bar with an open door. It was 2:00pm, inside were various booze soaked souls and Irish tunes. Damn tempting. He decided against an entrance. Lets ride this sucker out and see what happens. Hell, maybe he would get the job. Nicotine had surged through him and provided his brain with a feeling of delusional hope. He was drinking lemonade now. Drank about two gallons of the stuff a day now that he had stopped the boozing. Only drawback was that it was so damn sweet, it caused him to smoke extraordinary amounts of cigarettes. He was coughing up brown gobs of goo now and then. But that was alright. It was interesting to see pieces of ones inner anatomy, like a personal science project.

It was a warm day and Bill decided to visit the park. Sit on a bench, eat a dog, observe. A good place to get some thinking done. He found a pleasant looking spot near the 59th street entrance. Looking at the dogs and the just released from school children made him smile. After finishing his lunch, he smoked a couple of cigarettes. He was just beginning to relax.

"Can ya spare some change fella?" Bill looked up at a deranged looking freak who had what may have been the early stages of leprosy or some skin hungry organism.

"No sorry buddy, I'm sort of broke right now."

The leper grunted. "How about a smoke then." The bum wheezed like he had holes in his throat. Bill handed over a smoke and watched in dismay as the old guy took a seat on his bench. It was a short bench. " Got a light?"

"Yeah sure, anything," as Bill passed him a pack of matches. The guys fingers were mangled and clawlike but they managed and he fired the smoke up.

" Keep em," Bill said as he detected the unmistakable aroma of vomit and shit. This was very unsettling to him. Taken one at a time was bad enough but together was too much for any normal person to handle.

"Nice day huh" the bum croaked.

"Aces, lovely lovely, really nice." It was clear blue up top and ripe green below, perfect after bad interviews.

"Wanna drink"? Bill turned to see a cheap bottle of rye in a spittle encrusted brown bag being thrust at him.

"No thanks, Im trying to lay off that shit. You go ahead though." He poured the foul liquid into his hole. Bill couldnt help but notice that the man needed extensive dental work. Being pretty sure he didnt have a dentist, he felt sad for him. Bill started feeling weary. Perhaps it was the hot dog. "Good luck sir, heres another smoke." He left it on the bench and headed off.

"Bless you my son," the man said as Bill walked away to the sound of a nearby snarling dog. What a day.




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