To Each HIs Own

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Sometimes, it hits you, you see things, you see through things. And at the same time you find yourself in this mental diorama also playing your part, just like everybody else. And you switch back and forth.

Submitted: June 19, 2008

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Submitted: June 19, 2008



To Each His Own


I run out of the meeting, my stomach churning with hunger- I often regret trading the snooze button for breakfast. And I want a heavy, filling, greasy gyro.

I sit down in front of the TV as I wait. They always have the same show on there. A husband and wife are arguing and a mock judge is there to settle them out of court to the entertainment of an audience whose own lives have failed to be quite as spectacular as the one being unfolded on the stand.

I wonder how the couple discussed this, "Honey, let's not make a big deal out of this by going to a court for divorce. Let's be normal and settle it out of court. Let's do it on TV".

A billowing woman with an elaborate coiffure, a confident cleavage, and a massive attitude with bright purple eye-shadow to match is recounting her side of the story.

"I never thought he'd do this to me. I went to the store for five minutes to buy me some matching purple lipstick. I come back and there he was with two women in the living room."

As the studio audience responds in a joyful cacophony of murmurs and chortles and catcalls, the man is waiting calmly for his turn to respond- with a hint of indignation and maybe even pride on his face.

The judge is there to conduct the whole scene and he's upto his job. He knows how to handle a situation without disappointing the audience.

"So, you came back and opened the door, now describe what you saw"

The producer, being a competent man himself, finds this cliffhanger the right moment to sneak in a commercial break. After all, this is a matter of demand and supply and he knows when to milk his fair share.

So do the people that air their advertisements to the audience gripped by this enthralling family drama. A blank screen with a 1-800 number blinking. A deep, manly voice- paid to sound trustworthy- booms, " If  you are thinking of filing for bankruptcy, let us help. At Dinklestein and Partners, we.....".

I wolf down my lunch to the sound of a determined customer haggling for a free serving of hash browns with the sweet-tongued, but not so loose-fisted salesman.

 I need to go back and finish up the circuit I've been working on- my advisor wants the experiment up and running. As I walk back into my quiet lab in the sub-basement trying to think what I want to do this weekend, my stomach is bursting and somewhere, I feel a little empty.

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