Literature and Other Drugs

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

About Jackson Varga, a writer that is into partying to excess and being an all-round asshole. I have been sitting on this for a while and I am thinking about turning it into a novel. As always, let me know what you think!

 

Literature and Other Drugs

Daylight was pouring in through the hotel’s windows when he woke up to the sound of the hotel room’s door shutting. As he slowly opened his eyes, he could smell the thick scent of urine seeping into his nostrils. He slowly sat up and looked around his hotel suite to see it in ruins.  He panned his eyes across the room and saw six women and one man passed out amidst the destruction, all of which were naked. Who they were was a completely different story. He stood up and threw on a pair of boxers and his sunglasses and poured himself a glass of scotch he found stuffed between the mattress and the box spring. As he walked to the hotel balcony he grabbed a towel and threw it over the nameless man’s exposed genitalia. Overlooking the city of Las Vegas from the 41st floor of the hotel at Mandalay Bay, he tried to recall the events of the night before, but the last thing he remembered was drinking with a blonde at the hotel bar, the funny thing being that she wasn’t even in the room. Just then there was a knock at the door. Strolling over to see who it may be, he couldn’t help but feel that he had forgotten something. The door opened and there stood a tall, grey-haired man in a suit at the door with two other men behind him. The tall man was his publisher Ralph Mahoney.

“Holy fuck Jack, you look like shit. What happened here? Did you forget we had a meeting?” It was obvious that Ralph was horrified.

Jack just shrugged and said “Come on in, want a drink?”

“Jack these are the gentlemen here to talk to you about your new publishing deal”

“Oh yea! I remember now, how you doing boys? Want a cigarette?”

Jack was still standing there in his boxers surrounded by the unconscious naked people. His hair was a mess and the room still smelled of piss and tobacco, but the two men came in and picked up the two chairs that seemed to have been thrown across the room.

The first man spoke,

“Jack as you may know we are here from Fusion Publishing and we want to make up a contract for your next novel. Now we have debated amongst ourselves on a fair price to pay you considering both the success of your first novel and the value that your name will bring to the project. We are prepared to pay you two-hundred thousand dollars, along with a 5% royalty.”

Jack paused for a second, took a drink of the stale whiskey and simply said, “Cool” and signed the contract.

The second man grabbed the contract and said, “Thank you Mr. Varga, Fusion is very happy to be in business with you and we cannot wait to see your next work,” and the two men left.

As soon as the door shut Ralph said, “Jack, I really think that you should have asked for more.”

Jack, who was searching for something around the room, looked confused and said, “…more what? Hey have you seen a bottle of vodka around? I want to put some in my coffee to wake me up a bit.”

“More money Jack!” Ralph exclaimed, “Your next book is probably going to sell more than a million copies!”

Jack turned, grabbed Ralphs face with both hands and pulled him in close enough so that Ralph could feel the heat from his cigarette and said,

“Ralph, I am a writer. It is what I was born to do. Whether I am in my mother’s basement, or if I am at Mandalay Bay I am going to be writing. So if those suits out there want to give me thousands of dollars so people from all over can look at my book and go “Thank you Jackson Varga for enriching my life with your work,” then who am I to stop them?”

Just then the naked man stood up beside them and said, “Wow man, profound stuff.”

Without taking his eyes off of Ralph, Jack said, “Get the fuck out” and pointed to the door.

The man just said, “Cool man,” and walked out into the hallway still completely naked.

Jack let go of Ralph’s still surprised face and said, “Now help me figure out how many of these girls are still breathing. My guess is five.”


Submitted: April 13, 2012

© Copyright 2022 bishop23. All rights reserved.

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Comments

betsyt

Very nice! A blend of Bukowski and Kerouac but with own unique style. I hope to read more of your work!

Fri, April 13th, 2012 6:32pm

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