Synthetic Happiness

02Jul09

“I can’t believe you’re consciously coming down here,” Marnie said as she glanced back at Susie.

Dragging her feet, Susan crossed her arms over her chest. Her ample boobies spilled over her pale arms.

“I’m doing it for you,” she said, “Can’t you see what you’ve become? I’m saving you.”

Marnie giggled to herself as she shook her head. Looking down at her shoes gliding over the pavement, she thought of the last time Susie felt so compelled to “save” another; so compelled that she could remember it. A saccharine smile pulled at her lips.

“That,” Susie said as she pointed a shimmering finger at Marnie’s smile, “That is what I mean. The podcast infection has opened the gateway to all sorts of diseases.”

“What, happiness? Laughter? Being content?”

Susie sighed as she rolled her eyes and looked away down the sidewalk. Here they were on the same path they had been weeks ago; Dinkytown, fratdom, track suit hell, whatever you wanted to call it, this is where Wordsmith held his “offices”, or just someplace he was rumored to spend a lot of time at.

“What you’re feeling right now isn’t real. It’s all about being brainwashed into being happy,” said Susie. She sidestepped a pair of outstretched Etnies and spat a curse in their direction.

“But I like where I am, I like being this way,” Marnie said.

Susie stopped right there in the path of a sidewalk waiter who was carrying a soup and sandwich laden tray. He swerved on the spot, trying to catch his backwards falling balance. People behind him ducked out of the way. Susie latched onto Marnie’s arms, ignoring the pace the rest of the world moved at.

“Don’t tell me you like it. It disgusts me to see you acting like this.”

“How should I be? Angry all the time?” Marnie said as she gently yanked her arms away.

“At least then it would be your real emotions; not something fabricated by a podcast of all things. It changes people.”

“For the better, it seems.”

“It’s all fake. Look at that Julie—”

“Julia,” Marnie corrected.

“—Bitch, fucking random guys for a baby! It’s ridiculous!”

Susie yanked at the collar of her shirt and wiped away a coat of sweat that was permeating out of her skin.

“Excuse me,” the waiter behind them said, followed by many a dirty look from his customers.

Sparing him a full blown look of disdain, Susie opted for a twitch of the lip before stepping aside. Marnie sighed as she shifted her weight.

“You dragged me out here, to a place you hate, only after you remembered it, only after a lengthy conversation with Wordsmith over the phone in which you both decided that you hated people using the phrase ‘they said that’, all the while you forgot about the selfish idea that I should operate at your level of thinking, which, by the way, would drive any sane person insane.”

Several innocent bystanders having their lovely lunch in the humidity watched on in not so innocent interest.

“I,” Susie began, “What?”

“You can’t even follow my sentence, great,” Marnie said as she stepped back.

“Wait!” Susie said as she not only latched, but wound herself around Marnie’s person. Here we go.

“Just try it, please? All you have to do is talk with him, he probably won’t do anything! Just please go see him? It’s my last hope, please.”

“Did nothing saturate?”

But Susie clinged all the way to Al’s Diner. Fortunately, there wasn’t a line leading out the door and down the sidewalk. The smell was overpowering and they hadn’t even walked through the door yet. Eggs, fat, bacon, fat, sausage, fat, oil, salty territory beckoned. Pulling the door open with her finger like it stank something awful, Susie was the first to enter. But she was quick to push Marnie forward once she too was through the door.

A mass of people sitting at the long, but slim counter pushed back. Plenty were stacked against the wall, not even centimeters away, waiting for a seat. People were stuffing their faces with greasy, dripping food at the urge of the fry cook and the single waiter/busboy/host/cashier. An additional one or two people were in the back stirring something in two huge vats. Lard, perhaps?

“I don’t see Wordsmith,” Marnie said as she stood on her tippy-toes.

“This is the address he gave me,” Susie said as she clung to Marnie’s back. Her anxiety was rising; Marnie could feel it as the pair of claws dug into her shoulders.

This place didn’t seem to fit Wordsmith at all. He was so simple, in mind and dress, yet refined enough he could keep grease stains from becoming a fabric of his everyday home life, assuming he did have a home life.

“I’ve read about this place,” Marnie said as she inched forward. “‘Best breakfast on campus’ it said.”

“Gods,” Susie said as she looked this way and that. She suddenly hugged Marnie even closer, defying the impossible.

“Oh my Christ!” she exclaimed, “Look at that!”

To their right, behind the bar and the line of munchers they saw the dream that had gone by and almost disappeared. Cigarette behind his ear and sucking on another one in his mouth, Ciggie stood flipping eggs, pouring golden oil and vinegar onto crispy hash browns, and looking like the bearer of all thing greasy and good, or bad, depending on how you looked at it.

“Ciggie!” Marnie yelled.

People at and behind the bar stopped their shoveling and yelling to glance her way. The waiter slapped two menus down on the counter and eyed them.

“I need everyone to move two seats down to the left,” he bellowed over the noise. “C’mon, c’mon, move that ass,” he said to a tubby customer.

“Well, that wasn’t very nice,” Susie said below her hand.

“Ciggie, what are you doing here?” Marnie said.

“I work here, don’t I?” he replied.

“I thought you said you didn’t have a home; that you kind of…wandered.”

“I do. But that doesn’t mean I can’t work.”

“Do you sleep in those vats back there or something?” Susie said.

“Not necessarily,” he said as he poured more oil on several hash browns. His arm arched in the air as his body bent backwards, as if he were a world renowned dancer, so did the oil fly through the steaming air.

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Susie mumbled. “Anyway, have you seen Wordsmith? I was told I can meet a man named Wordsmith here.”

“Oh, that guy with all the piercings. Yeah, he’s all right.”

Marnie turned back to witness Susie’s look of utter exhausted aggravation.

“Yeah, where is he?”

“What do you want? Have a seat, he’ll show up eventually.”

“But I need him now, this is urgent!”

“Chill, get some fat, a cig, he’ll come when he’s ready. You can’t rush things, man. Everything will unfold when it’s ready.”

“Just what I need,” Susie said as she climbed onto the high chair. “More neo-hippie bullshit.”

“He’s kind of right.” Marnie said as she did the same.

Susie, who was hanging up her bag behind her froze and turned ever so slowly towards her friend. She stared for a good five seconds before taking in a sharp breath.

“We need Wordsmith more than ever,” she said.

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Tags: Wordsmith, mind fuck, Ciggie, dinkytown, Oliver Twist, podcast