"Haha, that's so funny! But yeah, you're right... I could really go for some cake right now."
"You crashin' the wedding, then?" I ask, trying too hard to be clever again. It's impossible to be witty in this place. This music siphons all intelligent thought from my skull.
"Nope, I'm the groom's best friend!" she answers with enthusiasm. "I've known him since kindergarten!"
"So, uh, what does he do for a living?" I finally ask.
I can't keep my eyes off that damned table. She yells something at my face, but her nasally voice is no match for the Black Eyed Peas.
"I'm sorry, a what?"
"An executive financial director!"
I excuse myself and dart straight to the table. What was I expecting? I grab one in each hand, two more to come. Maybe the bubbles will make it bearable. Goodbye, grating, scraping, solid reality. Please, please wash away now.
All four slide down my throat as I toss them back, one after the other. I cough, I sputter, I catch my breath. They aren't helping. I close my eyes, hoping to disappear. I wish for some sort of catastrophe -- an earthquake, a hurricane, anything. I want an interruption, something huge. Something to stop it all.
I sigh, pick up another glass, and stagger back to my seat.
Between sips, I concentrate waves of loathsome stares at each man and woman present. This is not for me, and it has never been. Here, my empathy is ineffective. Better unfiltered hatred than futile attempts at communication. I absolutely cannot imagine why she chose this, but here we are. First I will finish this and then I will walk among them.
I have to keep deeping breathely. My arms start to feel heavy and the floor starts to feel light. I think I am ready now, so I loosen my tie. Why are the lights so dim in here? Concentrating on my steps, I make my way to a circle of these intolerable imbeciles.
That's a phrase that I won't even try to say right now.
I approach the most expensive-looking suit I can find. There is nobody inside it. It yells over the music, "Wait, what you're saying is Monsanto's about to soar? It's a fucking bear market, man. Monsanto's not an exception. Have you even read their quarterly?"
"No, Carson, that's not the point. They just tripled R&D, and there's no reason--"
He flinches as I throw an arm around him. Don't act so shocked, dipshit. This is how I roll.
"What's up, knob-goblins?" I laugh.
Produced by: Jove
Title: Four
Notes: based on a false story
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