Point of view exercise

Point of View Exercise

by Rick Pritchett

Created for the Writer's Workshop

The Perspective of the Mortified Guest

Joseph Portage couldn’t keep his eyes off of him. This, he thought, is going to be something. Joseph gawked as Tobin Fieldgate, master of the Fieldgate Software empire, swayed to the tune of Daddy’s Little Girl. Portage grimaced as Tobin and his daughter bobbed erratically to the music.

“He’ll never make it,” Joseph said aloud to no one realizing that the numerous drinks consumed by the software pirate were taking their toll. Portage watched as the drunken man dipped and dipped again on shaky legs and with unsteady arms. The dance macabre twirled on, and the bride’s expression turned from one of disgust to one of alarm. Portage’s expression matched. He was paralyzed. Should he get up and save the bride, bucking both tradition and decorum, or should he just sit and hope?

Separated at last, Fieldgate mustered what little balance he had left and performed a twirl. It was too much. The momentum of the spin shooting Fieldgate off into the unstoppable stutter steps of a man whose world is no longer in focus. Portage couldn’t move, amazed as one of the leading figures in industry wobbled past the bride continuing, alone, his nonsensical dance. Portage jumped up, although not quickly enough, in an effort to halt the inevitable. The Bride shouted, "Lookout! You're heading right for the cake", but Fieldgate, still in the throes of his maniacal dance, didn’t stop. In fact, he was abruptly stopped. The table which Tobin neglected to see, hit him thigh high. His legs, meeting the resistance of the wood, froze immediately. From the waist up, inertia being what it is, his body lunged forward, his face plowing into the four layer wedding cake resting there.

Looking at the spectacle in front of him, Joseph looked away in contempt.

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Crystal's Perspective

I’m free at last. One more stupid dance, and I’m out of his reach. Four more minutes of this stupid song, I mean can you really believe I'm dancing to Daddy's Little Girl, four more minutes and I can forget about the previous eighteen, miserable years. He's not even my real father. I wish my mother had never married this goon. Look at him. Drunk. Making a fool of himself, as usual. At least this time it’s in public so that everyone can see what a moron he really is. Sure he has money, but, was that enough? Where was he when I really needed him, and why was he in my face all the time when really I just needed space? I wish he would stop trying to twirl me, and he keeps stepping on my toes. He’s such an idiot. Now he thinks he’s Fred Astair. He can’t seem to stop. Typical. Wait, wait, where’s he…

“Lookout! You’re heading right for the cake!”

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One Too Many-The View of Tobin Fieldgate

Tobin Fieldgate grinned. His step-daughter, Crystal, a young girl who had been the light of his life, had taken her vows of marriage to a fine, upstanding man. The step-dad danced with her now. Looking around, he felt satisfied. The ballroom, adorned with the most lavish of decorations, announced to all there that Tobin Fieldgate, multi-millionare owner of Fieldgate Software, loved his step-daughter and would spare no expense. As they danced, the bride beamed like the beautiful princess he felt she was. It was fitting that they moved to the beat of Daddy's Little Girl. To him, that is who she was and would always remain.

He'd had plenty to drink, but these were drinks of courage. Let them laugh, if they dare, it was almost as much his day as it was Crystal's. Sure his dancing was silly, and his vision was slightly fuzzy, but he could afford some silliness on this day. Tobin Fieldgate felt, as the saying goes, as light as a feather. He swayed to the rhythm and dipped the young bride. He let her go and did a quick spin and then another. Tobin Fieldgate happily spun on the ballroom floor. Unaware, blinded by his joy, Tobin Fieldgate failed to notice that the table containing his step-daughter's wedding cake fast approached. A cry of "Lookout! You're heading right for the cake" came too late, and as he struck the table, moments before his visage landed in the frosted tower, he looked back at the bride hoping she would catch his look of apology.

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The Video-By Mr. Mirthful View

I almost missed the shot. When they started playing Daddy's Little Girl I thought this would be another dull father-daughter dance. Nothing really important to film, and since I was a guest, and a marginal one at that, I didn't want to waste the battery power. After the old man took his first step, however, I had a feeling that I might want to hit the record button.

It was, without a doubt, the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life. It was akin to a symphony, building slow, the old man wobbling, holding onto the bride. Then, separating himself, creating the necessary space, he shaked and shimmied. His chaotic motions resembling something between the chicken dance and a boxer practicing his moves. Reconnecting with the bride, her expression a forced grin, he swung her around, twising his body into positions that a contortionist would be proud of while she backed away mouth agape. The cruelist, and thus the most entertaining thing about the dance, was that the old man never stopped smiling. He was in complete oblivion.

The piece de la resistance was the ending, the crescendo to this symphony of madness. To me the dance hall quieted, everyone staring at the drunken dad. He jostled to and fro, mindless of direction. Somewhere behind him, I'm not sure who yelled, my focus was in the viewfinder, buy someone yelled "Lookout! You're heading right for the cake!" I zoomed the lens, big ass grin on my face, in full laugh mode, just as the lout hit the table and plunged headlong into the cake. I caught it all. I've sent the tape into America's Funniest Videos. I bet they'll love it.