Jerkoff Becomes a Has-Been

     The piano softly plays, setting the atmosphere for tonight’s event. I never much cared for these kinds of gatherings. I never liked to mingle among a crowd of people period. I walk up the stairs to a catwalk so I can observe from above. The smoke from the many pipes, cigarettes, and such are growing thick to cover the uneasiness. Outbreaks of emotion from the impassioned visitors draw stares from the others, comments being whispered behind their backs bring small laughs to cut the tension. Many are uncomfortable with their outfits, since today’s show is a formal event to them and being in such a neat environment has them very touchy.

     The mediator for today’s show interrupts the gathering, sharing moments and telling stories to the mass which draws many laughs and insults. So entranced are the visitors that many participate by sharing their own experiences. Many shake their heads in agreement and some scoff at such description. Small groups begin gathering to discuss their own adventures in this prelude. The mediator quickly wraps up his monologue and steps down as the piano player goes into a fervor, making many sing along to his opus. The performance sparks some to look within, which brings tears to their eyes. Others console them while the piano player ends in a very somber tone. A hush then takes the crowd as the star of the show takes his stage.

     So young many say, while others speak tragically of his abnormal career. The crowd becomes fixated at his very words which echo throughout this reserved hall.

     “I can only give random thoughts as to the events which bring you here today. Many of you may say that is was only a matter of time, while some of you may still be in shock. I have struggled ever since childhood dealing with these obstacles that even today I have no description for. I want to put your mind at ease once and for all in letting you know that this shouldn’t be a sad day. What I am about to do isn’t as difficult to me as most of the results or ideas that I have done. I know that some of you have come here tonight out of love for me, while there are some who have come here secretly happy. I can only say to you that I apologize for what wounds I have inflicted to you. This day is the clearest and proudest I have ever lived and I know that few of you may understand this. I have no regrets other than my procrastination. I should have done this years ago. To some I say ‘Fuck you!’ You know who you are, you two-faced bastards. I wish happiness to my sweet fiancé, who I hope can move on without looking back and feeling that she is somewhat responsible. It could not have been helped and I release her of the struggle of prolonging the inevitable. I want to wrap up this by saying ‘Move on’ and make sure to use the alcoholic facilities that have been purchased in this retirement of sorts. Maybe the memory of me will be more fitting than the actual reality. To all those present, I say ‘Farewell and better days.’”

     The visitors applaud while some begin fighting amongst themselves. Others are shocked, while the callous ones go directly to the small bar as directed and begin drinking heavily. The piano player begins another tirade which brings many to dance along side of him. The evening becomes electrified as the tongues loosen and the candor takes the stage.

     “Fucking prick, he never was that bright!”
     “I can’t believe he gave up like that.”
     “I never liked the son of a bitch in the first place!”
     “One thing though, he always knew how to throw a party.”
     “I fucked him once, he wasn’t that good.”
     “I’ll miss him. He really was special.”
     “God damn you.”
     “Tell you the truth, I really never talked to him but there is this chick here I want to meet.”
     “Do you think it’s pathetic of me to give his fiancé my number?”
     “Get the fuck out of my way. You prick!”
     “Check out the tits on his sister!”
     “I think he would have been pleased on how this turned out.”

     Everything seems to be in order as the crowd forms a line, saying their peace in a final look, a prayer, or a touch as they make their exit. The star of the show, always priding himself as mysterious, has gotten his final wish. His last performance, his last show, his bow to the crowd was a suicide. In a bullet to the brain, he left them curious, vain, and self absorbed. It was the first time he made them unanimous, and it would be the only thing he ever did right.

     I watch them go in separate directions, some making new friends, some making new enemies. I even see my fiancé walking arm in arm with another suitor. I am alone now to look down at my viewing, my last statement, my masterpiece. The piano player picks up his music sheets and drops a flower into my casket. He walks over to the mediator who spoke on my behalf and shakes his hand.

     “That was strange.”
     “Yes, I never had to read a suicide note to a crowd before.”
     “He was your best friend?”
     “Yeah, he was a fucking mess. He hated all these people. It seems fitting on how this ended.”
     “It seems tragic.”
     “Well, if he was here, he would think of it as funny.”
     “Are you gonna miss him?”
     “A little. You have to know the bastard to explain.”

     The two exit and leave me alone to my corpse. I walk down from the catwalk to peer at my face. I can see where the bullet came out and how well they put my shattered skull back together. I lean down and kiss my cheek, leaving my narcissism for this so-called eternity. What a fucking mistake life was.