MEET OUR ANTI-HERO, WHO, FOR THE PURPOSES OF THIS ALLEGORY WE SHALL NAME ‘BOB’. HE STARES AT HIMSELF IN THE BATHROOM MIRROR OF A NIGHTCLUB AND HIS INNER VOICE OF REASON IS SAYING;
Okay. Okay. You’re looking sharp. Straighten that collar up a bit. No. Not too straight. You want to look a bit rugged too. Rugged but classy. Now compose yourself. We’ve thought this through. She’s going to be there but it’s going to be okay. It’s going to be no problem.
You’re over her.
Over her.
Over her.
Over her.
She is nothing to you.
It doesn’t matter how she looks, what she’s wearing, what she smells like, who she’s with.
Immaterial.
Im-mat-e-ri-al.
You are going to have a good night. It’s going to be just like she’s not there. Okay? Are you ready? Deep breath. Open the door. Let’s go.
Wow! It’s pumping in here! So many people! You are going to have yourself a good time!
Look at all the fine ladies! Foxy as hell too! Just don’t scan the room looking for her.
Remember: act like she is not here. Play it cool. Play. It. Cool.
Hey!
Hey, hey, hey. What are you doing? You’re looking for her aren’t you? We’ve talked about this. Don’t do it. Move on! She has! She doesn’t matter anymore.
Ahhh.
You’ve seen her haven’t you? Quick look away before she sees you. Look away.
LOOK AWAY.
You’re not looking away are you?
You want to see who she’s with don’t you?
It’s not going to make you feel better you know. Why are you such a territorial bastard?
Why do you need to know even though it doesn’t matter?
Wow. She really does look stunning tonight. Can you believe you once held a girl like that? Wow, she is looking damn fine! Damn fine! If only... No. Don’t even go there. What’s past is past. We’re moving on. Plenty of fish in the sea. Ahem. I said, we are moving on. Come on...
You really can’t help yourself can you? You really have to know. Well, since you are
looking... He’s handsome isn’t he? Looks successful too. Well built, athletic. They seem
happy! So happy together. They make happiness look natural. Like they own it, or it owns them.
Okay. We’ve seen enough, lets walk away before she sees you.
It’s too late isn’t it? She’s seen you. In the midst of her happiness she spotted you, paused briefly, then resumed all too easily her happiness. But she’s going to look again isn’t she. Yep. She’ll do it again. Because even though she is happy, she is just like you. Easily jealous. Insecure. And even though you mean nothing to her now, she still needs to know.
You make a great pair. You really do. Oh you guys are pathetic. Okay. So we had a plan. A good plan. A great plan. But you have strayed, had better ideas so we’re going to have to run with a different tact now... You’ve got about ten seconds before she looks your way again, so quick. Look happy. Don’t just stand there like a solemn idiot. Not cool! Dance! Do something! Look like you’re having a good time. Dance with someone! That girl there. Yeah. She looks like she’d be into it. Good work! You look kind of convincing. She’s watching you and you are dancing with this girl, who is not that bad looking by the way. Good job. Why not have a good time with her tonight? Forget about your ex.
You don’t want to do you?
You’re already looking in her direction aren’t you?
I’m disappointed you know. Out of all the people in the world, I had to be your inner voice of reason. Well. They’re dancing very closely aren’t they? Sensually even. His hands. They are pioneers on her body. She’s really enjoying herself, but still despite all this, still she looks your way and you are...
What are you doing? You’re up close and personal with her now. There’s a little bump and grind action going on. I bet you can feel her breath on your neck. You know. She might even be into you.
You don’t care do you.
You’re still looking over there aren’t you?
You fool.
Well, I take it you are enjoying his hands run down her thighs. I think he’s even spread his hands a bit and making suggestions across her inner thigh. I bet that’s really getting her going... His firm hands...
Well... You are original my friend. Copy his exact moves with your girl except try and make it look more sensual. It’s a game now is it? You versus him? Or you versus her? Are you trying to prove a point? Or trying to win her back? You versus her is it? Okay. Thanks for the clarity on that point. You really baffle me with your logic. Well, since you are playing this game you might as well kiss her. Go on. Beat them to it. That’s it. With lots of tongue. You are both animals. Dirty, dirty, sex crazed animals. You want to devour each other, tear each others clothes off and have sex right here on this dance floor. Just like the song that’s playing! How apt! What are the words? “I want to make love in this club?” Or something like that? Hmmmmm, it’s laughable, the popular music industry and it’s willingness to take off it’s clothes. Well go on. You’ve made a good start. That’s it. She’s watching! I don’t think she likes it! You’ve made her jealous by being so into this girl. She’s feeling a tad insecure about it! You’ve set them off kissing now. She’s all over him like she’s got something to prove. You humans. Pathetic. Look at you both. Kissing someone else while sneaking glimpses of each other across the dance floor.
MOMENTS PASS. WHAT IS AN INNER VOICE OF REASON TO SAY IN MOMENTS LIKE THIS? IT THINKS BEFORE CONTINUING:
So...
Um...
This girl.
This girl you are kissing...
I wonder what her story is? I wonder why she is kissing you and reciprocating all this... affection.
Affection isn’t really the right word is it?
Attention. Yes, attention is the best I can do at the moment.
I wonder who hurt her? I wonder who she is trying to forget. I wonder if she is also
sneaking glimpses at someone else in this club.
You guys. You really humor me sometimes, you know that? Weaving your intelligent webs, everyone getting tangled in the same mess.
Oh.
But you’ve stopped now. Stopped all the kissing and fondling, etc. I knew this would
happen. She wants to get some drinks doesn’t she? Some hard liquor? Of course she
does, and so do you. And so does your ex and she is persuading her new man. Both
parties will down drinks from opposite ends of the bar because you need them in the
pursuits you are undertaking. You need to be plastered, hammered. Because what you are doing is non-sensical. You know it. But you do it anyway and you want to drown voices like me out.
BOB DOWNS MANY STRONG DRINKS AND A REASONABLE AMOUNT OF TIME PASSES BY. DURING SUCH TIME, ALCOHOL PERMEATES THROUGHOUT HIS BODY. TO APPRECIATE THIS PROCESS AND TO GAIN A SENSE OF THE PASSING OF TIME WE WILL NOW REGARD A YOUTUBE VIDEO FOR THE EFFECT OF SYMBOLISM.
Chumbawamba - Tubthumping
AND NOW WE RESUME WITH OUR ANTI-HERO AND HIS INNER VOICE OF REASON SOMEWHAT DRUNK...
Hey hey! Ho! Wooooooooooo! I feel good! Don’t you feel good? Buddy! Yeah! My man! My main man with the master plan! All is full of love! This room! This girl! Her legs! Damn! Don’t you just wanna spread ‘em? I bet you do! You dirty dog you! She’s hot man! Hotter than before! I guess I wasn’t paying close enough attention. Sorry if I was being a bit critical towards you before by the way. I was just-
BOB FORGIVES HIS INNER VOICE OF REASON.
You forgive me?
Aww gee.
That’s right.
I was just looking after my boy!
You’re my boy!
You’re my boooo-oy!
Yeah! That’s it. This is how we do it. We’re back dancing. With this girl, this HOT girl.
Dancing! Her body so, so, close! The heat! The heat! The heat coming off her body!
Ohhhh yeeeaaah!
You are picturing it aren’t you?
BOB IS THINKING ABOUT HIS EX.
You’ve got her naked in bed and you’re riding her like a stallion!
That’s right a stallion!
Look at those breasts, those plump, plump breasts, that chest, that wonderful neck line,
those lips! Those luscious lips. So soft and succulent!
Oh!
And when she exhales. The warmth on your neck! Oooooooo. It makes me shiver inside!
And look at her eyes. Those devilish eyes, man. She’s giving you the look of sin. She
wants it. She needs it. There is only one way this night is going to end. She will let you. Let you do any-.
Hey!
What are you doing?
Don’t look away. We’re dancing with the lustful girl. Don’t look over there. Don’t search for her.
Heaven has dropped you a date in the form of this sensuous beauty and you want to look elsewhere. What is your problem? Get back to dancing. Do not look over there.
DO.
NOT.
LOOK.
OVER.
THERE.
Yeah. That’s better!
Oh yeah! Yes! Look at this! The way she is rubbing her body on yours as we dance. Look how suggestive it is. Time to get it on! We’re pulsing buddy! Thunderbirds are go!
BOB CANNOT STOP THINKING ABOUT HIS EX EVEN THOUGH THERE IS ANOTHER WOMAN’S BODY GYRATING AROUND HIS PENIS. IT IS TRUE THOUGH, HIS THUNDERBIRD IS STRONG.
Okay.
This is the new plan. Are you listening to me? Tonight. This girl. Bed. Hers. Yours. Who the hell cares. Lose yourself in each other. That stinging, hollow pang you feel nagging at the inside of your chest. The one that your ex has left. The one you are feeling now. The one that got all the more blown open when you saw that she is now with someone else and has left you feeling replaced and inferior, like a rear projection television -you know the big fat bulky heavy ones that look so ridiculous, definition laughable, when sitting next to an LCD flat screen. Fill it with this girl! You’ll wake up in the morning victorious. Things will be anew! Refreshed! A new girl! New memories! New memories that will cloud the old ones, and the more we do this, the more we will replace. My friend, this plan is fool proof. Repeat and replace, repeat and replace, repeat and replace. Do this until there is nothing left of her. You won’t even think of her. There will be too many to filter through to even remember her. They will all be insignificant and mean nothing to you. There will be no more meaning. No more love. But no more pain! Just sex, sex. Lots of sex! And more alcohol. Come on. Drink up. Yeah that’s it. More alcohol.
THE PAIN IN BOB’S HEART IS SO GREAT IT SURPASSES THE JOY IN HIS PANTS
AS IT EXPERIENCES FRICTION BY THE WOMAN IN FRONT OF HIM. IT IS CLEAR THAT HE NEEDS MORE ALCOHOL. BOB DRINKS AS IF A CAMEL AND HIS INNER VOICE OF REASON SAYS:
Good.
We just have to play this out a bit longer. Maybe another couple of hours. I don’t know why it is this way. You know it and she knows it. In a few hours you will be in bed at one of your homes having sex. But you can’t leave now and arrive at such a conclusion prematurely. Even in alcohol lubricated scenes like this there is etiquette. I know, I know. Stupid isn’t it. Etiquette. It’s all about sex but we can’t make it all about sex, if you know what I mean. There has to be an illusion of connection. And this illusion will come. We just need more time. More time, more dancing, and more alcohol. More alcohol. Drink.
Hey!
Why are you still looking over there?
BOB IS... WELL, HE ALWAYS IS...
AND WHEN HE IS, THEY ARE ALWAYS HOLDING EACH OTHER SO CLOSE,
INTIMATELY, LUSTFULLY, EROTICALLY, WHICH DRILLS HOLES INTO BOB’S SOUL.
Focus. You amateur. You pussy. Call yourself a man? You and all your feelings. Letting
your emotions and a girl dominate you. You are pathetic. Weak! I am going to implement a punishment from now on. Every time you look or even think about looking in your ex’s direction you are going to have to drink. I am doing this to help you. It will help you rationalize. Alcohol will help you conform to our set plan. Destroy love. Destroy pain. Obliterate it. Replace it with conquest and temporary pleasure. We are stealing from love. Stealing. Taking the best part, the pinnacle, and dispensing with the rest. The rest is crap.
Now drink.
That’s it.
And again.
Yep.
And again.
And.
Again!
BOB LOOKS IN THE FORBIDDEN DIRECTION AS HE DRINKS.
Man you are hopeless! You can’t help yourself but look over there. Why do you find it so difficult to stick to task? It seems pretty straight forward to me. And now...
Shit.
BOB CAN BARELY STAND STRAIGHT.
You can barely stand straight! You’ve drunk too much. You can’t even dance properly
anymore. You’re wasted. You’re putting this lustful girl off. She’s slowly pretending like she doesn’t know you. And she’s...
gone.
Disappeared into the sea of clubbers. And you’re left barely treading water. Man,
you’re useless.
BOB’S HEAD IS CLOUDY. IT HAS LOST IT’S ABILITY TO PROCESS AND FILTER.
FINALLY IT GRASPS AN IDEA, AN OBJECTIVE, A FUNCTION. IT IS JUBULANT! IT
CLINGS TO IT, FOCUSSES ON IT, BECAUSE IT KNOWS, IN THIS CURRENT STATE,
THESE MOMENTS ARE RARE, THEY ARE GOLDEN. THEY MUST BE EMBRACED.
SUCH SMALL LOGICS LIKE THIS ONE SEEM EPIPHANIC.
Where you going? Look at you. So pathetic. Staggering. So slow. Drunk. You weakling.
BOB HAS DECIDED TO APPROACH HIS EX.
Are you going towards her now?
Towards your ex?
You are pathetic.
You are pitiful.
BOB STUMBLES INTO HIS EX GIRLFRIEND WHO IS DANCING WITH HER NEW MAN. HE HOLDS HER:
BECAUSE IF HE DIDN’T HOLD HER NOW HE WOULD HAVE LOST ALL BALANCE AND FALLEN TO THE GROUND
BECAUSE IT IS ALL HE HAS EVER THOUGHT ABOUT DOING SINCE THE DAY THEIR RELATIONSHIP ENDED. IT IS WHAT HE WANTS MORE THAN ANYTHING. TO FEEL WARMTH, TO TANGIBLY HOLD A DREAM, TO DEFY THE IMPOSSIBLE, TO RECREATE A TIME WHEN BOTH THEIR BODIES WERE HELD IN SUCH PROXIMITY, A TIME THAT BOB WOULD DESPERATELY LIKE TO SUSPEND, WOULD SACRIFICE ALL HE HAD FOR, AND POSSIBLY DIE IN.
You are an over-sentimental, disillusioned, mentally ill, idiot.
BOB FEELS A FIRM GRIP ON THE BACK OF HIS NECK. IT IS TITANIC. IT PULLS HIM AWAY AND TURNS HIM SO HE IS FACE TO FACE WITH IT’S SOURCE. BOB’S EYES ARE BLOODSHOT AND SLOW. THEY PLEAD POSSIBILITY. HE IS MET WITH EYES THAT SCREAM INTOLERABILITY AND DOMINEERING POSSESSIVE ANGST. THEY SHOVE HIM IN THE CHEST AND BOB FINDS HIMSELF ON THE FLOOR.
Man! This is embarrassing! Embarrassing for all concerned! It’s embarrassing to even
witness this! You are an embarrassment! An embarrassment of a man!
BOB CRIES. NOT LIKE A BABY, BUT A FEW TEARS RUN DOWN HIS CHEEK. THEY DO THIS UNEXPECTEDLY. HE DOES NOT NORMALLY DO THIS. THIS IS A SURPRISING RESPONSE EVEN GIVEN THE CIRCUMSTANCES.
Are you...crying?
Tears?
Tears!
What a baby!
BOB SITS ON THE FLOOR OF THE CLUB AND WATCHES AS HIS EX AND HER NEW MAN STARE INTENTLY INTO EACH OTHERS EYES. SHE IS ADMIRING HOW
STRONG HE IS, AND HE IS...WELL...WHAT ISN’T THERE TO ADMIRE? THEY ARE
DELIGHTED WITH EACH OTHER. HE IS A HULK AND SHE IS A PRINCESS. THEY ARE A FAIRY-TALE.
And you are a joke.
And now you are on your feet. What are you doing?
BOB STARTS BACK TOWARDS HIM WITH HIS FIST CLENCHED. THERE ARE
THUNDERSTORMS NOW IN BOB’S HEAD. THERE IS RAGE. SUICIDAL POSSIBILITIES. MARTYRDOM. GLORY. HE DEFIANTLY SHOVES HIS NEMESIS.
Are you an idiot? Have you no logic? You can’t do this! Not in front of his girl! He’s a lot
stronger than you...
BOB HAS NOT CHOSEN THE BEST METHOD OF COMMUNICATION. WHAT HE
REALLY WANTED TO SAY WAS: MY HEART IS IN A THOUSAND FRAGMENTS.
NOTHING WILL PIECE THEM TOGETHER. THERE IS ONLY A SLITHER OF HOPE FOR ME. I ONCE HELD THE SUN, IT’S GOLDEN RAYS ILLUMINATED MY SOUL, KEPT ME WARM, MADE BEAUTY OF EVERY ILL. BUT NOW, MY LIFE IS DISASTER, ENTROPY REIGNS OVER ME, FOR MY ONLY LOVE HAS DEPARTED FROM MY LIFE AND I CANNOT GET HER BACK. I WONDER WHETHER IT IS BETTER TO NOT KNOW LOVE AT ALL THAN TO HAVE HAD IT, LOST IT, AND LIVE KNOWING THAT YOU WILL NEVER HAVE IT AGAIN. I KNOW YOU (HIS EX GIRLFRIEND) DO NOT WANT TO HEAR WHAT I HAVE TO SAY. YOU WILL NOT LISTEN TO ME. YOU WOULD PREFER NOT TO SEE ME AT ALL. WELL HERE I AM! I WILL DANCE! I DON’T CARE THAT I STILL LOVE YOU. I WILL DO SO FOREVER. I WILL SCREAM IT FROM ROOFTOPS, CARVE IT DEEP INTO MY CHEST. I WILL DO ALL THESE THINGS KNOWING THAT IT IS ONLY I WHO FEELS THEM, THAT THEY ARE NOT RECIPROCATED AND THAT THIS IS WHY TONIGHT IS SO AWKWARD. SO BE IT. I WOULD DIE FOR YOU. HARM MYSELF FOR YOU. P.S. THIS GUY. HE IS A BASTARD. I DO NOT LIKE HIM. HE IS A PIECE OF SHIT.
BUT BOB DOES NOT SAY THESE THINGS. HE HAS OPTED FOR THE SYMBOLIC AND METAPHORICAL APPROACH INVOLVING VIOLENCE AND THERE WILL BE
CONSEQUENCES. HIS NEMESIS RAISES HIS ARM, FIST CLENCHED, RECOILS AND...
“NOOOOOOOOOO!” BOB’S EX GIRLFRIEND SCREAMS.
Damn! What the hell was that! Are we flying? The world is spinning. No. We are still on our feet, just... No. Not anymore. We are down. Damn it. We are down.
BOB’S NEMESIS IS STANDING OVER HIM DEFIANTLY AS IF TO METAPHORICALLY
SAY: I WIN.
BOB’S EX DOES NOT COME TO HELP HIM UP. HE HOPED THAT SHE WOULD. HE
WAS AT LEAST GRATEFUL FOR THE PITY ON HIM PORTRAYED IN HER SCREAM.
BOB TOOK HOPE IN THAT SCREAM. IT WAS FOR HIM, FROM HER. FOR A MOMENT, BOB HELD HER CONCERN AND FOR THAT, HE WOULD GLADLY TAKE THE PUNCH AGAIN.
Pathetic. You are hopeless.
BUT THAT IS WHERE ANY SENTIMENT FOR BOB ENDS. SHE GOES TO HER MAN
AND THEY LEAVE. SHE DOESN’T LOOK BACK. BOB STUMBLES BACK TO HIS FEET. BALANCE IS A STRUGGLE. THE FLOOR IS MOVING, TILTING. HIS FEET SEARCH FOR, AND THEN FINALLY, INERTIA. BOB LOOKS AROUND. THIS CLUB IS BLURRY. A CORNER OF HIS VISION IN ONE EYE IS OBSCURED. THERE IS PAIN. THERE MUST BE SWELLING. ICE. LATER, HE IS TO SEEK ICE. SUDDENLY BOB CAN FEEL HIMSELF MOVING, WHICH IS STRANGE BECAUSE HE DOES NOT INTEND IT. HE IS MOVING BACKWARDS THROUGH THE CROWD. HE IS BEING... CARRIED. CARRIED! NO. DRAGGED. YES. DRAGGED! THROUGH THE CROWD PAST THE BAR, DOWN THE STEPS AND THEN IS THROWN. THE PAVEMENT IS HARD. THE BOUNCERS DUST THEIR HANDS OFF OF BOB AND RETURN TO THE CLUB.
They could have been more gentle. Those bastards.
ENOUGH. BOB’S INNER VOICE OF REASON HAS HAD ENOUGH. IT SUGGESTS TO BOB THAT IT IS;
Time for a cab. Come on buddy. This night has been a complete and utter disaster. The
only thing you have succeeded in doing is taking me to new levels of disappointment in
you. Come on. Back to your feet. That’s it. A cab’s just stopped for us.
BOB DOESN’T WANT A CAB.
Hey.
Where are you going?
The cab.
The cab is back there.
You can barely walk. Where are you going? Where the hell are you going! Stop this! What’s come over you! Home! Home calls! Bed! Rest that sorry, waste of space, pathetic head of yours! To bed! To the cab! Home!
BOB HAS A BETTER IDEA.
Where are you going?
This isn’t funny! What are you doing? Are you going to find a bridge and jump off it? That’s the only logical thing I can think of. It would actually come close to redeeming tonight. That’s how bad and utterly embarrassing the night has been. Your death would end the punishment for me. Emancipate me. From your stupid, good-for-nothing head.
Where are you going?
BOB IS DETERMINED.
HE STUMBLES HALF A MILE. HE FALLS HALF A DOZEN TIMES IN THE PROCESS
BUT DOES NOT GIVE IN. GIVEN HOW DRUNK HE IS, IT IS A MAMMOTH EFFORT. HE RESTS OCCASIONALLY AGAINST POWER POLES OR FIRE HYDRANTS. HE FIGHTS TO GET HIS STRENGTH BACK. IT IS SO TIRING WALKING DRUNK! HE SEEMS TO AIM HIS STEPS IN THE DIRECTION OF THE BRASSERIE WHERE THEY FIRST MET AND WHEN IT IS IN SIGHT, HE STUMBLES ONE LAST TIME EXHAUSTED AND IS CONFRONTED BY HIS REFLECTION AMIDST CIGARETTE BUTTS FLOATING IN A PUDDLE ON THE GROUND.
Ahhh. I see what you were... You don’t know it, but I am standing somewhere inside the control centre of your brain and I am looking at the ground and shaking my head. Look at yourself in the puddle. You are pathetic. We have come full circle.
BOB REGARDS HIS OWN REFLECTION. HE HAS A SWOLLEN EYE, A BLEEDING LIP.
HIS THOUGHTS ARE SLOW. HIS HEAD SWAYS.
OKAY, OKAY, HE SAYS TO HIMSELF, STRUGGLING TO HOLD HIS HEAD UP ABOVE THE PUDDLE.
YOU’RE LOOKING SHARP. NOW STRAIGHTEN THAT COLLAR UP A BIT.
NO. NOT TOO STRAIGHT.
YOU WANT TO LOOK A BIT RUGGED TOO. RUGGED, BUT CLASSY.
NOW COMPOSE YOURSELF.
HIS VISION IS BLURRY BUT HE CONJURES ENOUGH FOCUS FOR A BRIEF MOMENT TO CONNECT INTENTLY WITH HIS VISAGE.
CLASSY.
STAY CLASSY.
