The Life of Allen Daggit

There are those who exist and there are those who dare. The movers and the shakers as those titans are of industry are so ineptly called. But that’s not who Im referring to. I’m speaking of the ones who actually exist in our life; the professor, the wife, the husband, the girl who actually stops at a crosswalk to let the elderly coupe with the two overloaded bags of groceries aactually cross. I mean come on they were on their way to see that new goddamned Meg Ryan movie and here all these ambitious sons of doctors and lawyers are raising back from their Christmas office soiress early and why the hell do Rosenberg and Kaufman actually go to those godamn things theyre not even Jewish he thought to himself. And then as he put the Ford Focus into park so he could rest his heavy forehad, heavy with worry, not with physical weight, against the steering wheel. Allen Daggit decided he’d had enough. A trim, full, physical specimen of the human species he filled out every article of clothing he wore and he was as all people know a filler. No not a filler as in “Allen, we need one more person for this committee on Healthcare Reform and you’re not doing anything…” no he was a FILLER. One of those men who fill a room with their presence. He walks into a restaurant and peoples eyes are immediately drawn to him. You’re sitting at a wedding in a beautiful baroque chapel and the color spectrum coming off the altar is nearly blinding you, but in here walks a man so full of vitality, energy, perhaps it’s the way he looks, feels, carries himself, perhaps an aura contributes to it, but no doubt godamnit within twenty seconds of his entrance into a room, every lady has given him the once over at least twice and every guy is either estimating how much he earns or lifts. A man who it seems is able to manipulate the very events around him. In sports he is a Michael Jordan, in politics an FDR, in industry a Rockefeller and in the exciting world of repo market manipulators, well goddamnit, that’s right it was him, Allen Daggit.
And here he was at another pathetic auction outside a police in bumblefuck Maine. What he wouldn’t give for one of his friend’s high perky jobs upstairs in one of those skyscrapers who made Babel look like a Lincoln log set. The sky was an unpretentious black marking his mood very well. As he jogged the two blocks to the police house in silence he stupidly cursed himself once again for having an occupation that forced him to leave his wife and kids alone every Saturday and mostly every Sunday. And since when did occupation become the sole personal trait of a man. It was an artifical 20th century invention that allowed people to actually believe that they could overcome hundreds of years of ingrained social, economic, raical and gender barriers and actually “choose their occupation”. Little did these pioneers know that by “choosing’ these occupations they would actually be contributing to the majority of small talk that they would engage in for the rest of their lives.