It all started with a prank at my so-called "regular" job which I hated, a job which I affectionately referred to simply as "hell". When I'm there I wish to share the hell so I called this 1-800 number I came across where they will call the person of your choosing pretending to be anyone you want and harass that person. So I did that with Rhianna, my co-worker.
Rhianna likes her job and it's a good fit for her and she's married with three kids and is a very even-keeled sort of person. That's all great and everything except when I see an even-keeled person like that I’ve just got to rock that boat. I found out before I can fool her as I once doctored an email typing in crap as if another co-worker had replied to me, then I forwarded that on to her. She says, "Oh, I didn't know Fred wanted to do that chore." Neither does Fred, laughed evil me.
So I made this harmless prank phone call to see if I could get her goat only it backfired on me and my secret life. In my secret life there's this fancy cool strip of restaurant houses down by the beach where all the cool and/or moneyed people like to frequent. It's there I like to run around naked and flash my dick at hot women. It's my only outlet you see. But Rhianna was really smart once she found out I pranked her again and backtraced the call. Damned if all things it hadn't come from one of those restaurant houses!
So sure enough as I'm pulling my shenanigans again, a black and white cop car shows up to investigate Rhianna's complaint. Of course, I don't know this, I think they're there for me because someone spotted me. I'm trapped, cut off from my car and seriously panicked. I have to hop over a couple of fences - I can't tell if the cop is chasing me or not - but in the end I'm stuck outside au natural.
While hiding I find out the truth. A huge Chinese slave operation is going on and the businesses will whore themselves out for anyone or anything as long as it makes them a buck. It's called the "Blonde Connection" because they make all the slaves' hair blonde. So that was the reason all these places were so popular and profitable behind their swank and groovy facade. I thought it was just because everyone was so cool who ran them and their customers were likewise.
For once, the cops did their homework and discovered the operation and early one morning there was a HUGE round up and search of all the places and they took out all the blonde slave kids and arrested the bosses. The cops surprised them by closing in dressed as regular people and I remember that one really tan cop in a bikini was just dynamite. In fact, one Chinese organization soldier smarted off to her on how hot she was and the next thing I know the cops are all fully clothed as everyone is deported and shut down.
The usual suspects
Since I was stuck naked for so long I lost my regular job hell and as another Chinese Restaurant house opened up and started to thrive again I was forced to go there for labor. Again, all the ritzy, flashy people were showing up and all I had was old newspapers to cover me. I waited for an isolated moment to confront the hostess and ask to work there. She may have been a slave but you still had to be edgy and lively to front the place so I feared facing her and what she'd think of my newspaper clothing chic.
She was very doubtful of me but I was insistent knowing that because I was willing to whore myself out the Chinese overloads would find a place for me. Finally she lets me in the back to a waiting area to be processed. My sister has fouled up her life too and she's joined me in the pursuit of pressed whoredom. After a few long, anxious moments we are accepted and led down a dark hallway to an elevator and told to go to the fourth floor. Like a Dr. Who Tardis, the place only got bigger the further you went inside it.
A resentful Chinese guy gets on the elevator with us. It's obvious he belongs to the place and knows the layout but I keep wondering if he's resentful of my American sister and me or if he's just resentful in general. I was keenly aware of the vulnerability of my ignorance of the Chinese operation and knew he could trip us up if chose to so I was painstakingly monitoring his every action without trying to give away I didn’t trust him one whit in this sordid house I was to call "home."
Sure enough, I see him jacking with the elevator controls but I thought I saw how to undo what he did as he got off. But dammit if he wasn't trickier than I thought and my sister and I ended up on the seventh floor, not the fourth. Instantly I saw what a grave mistake that was as it was very plush and residential with these long carpeted hallways and mammoth room of luxury to the left where I assumed the owners lived. I had no doubt this was an area I should not tread without permission and I got so rattled I dropped the carafe of wine I was carrying, leaving an ugly spot on the expensive carpet. Shit!
I start running down the hallway only a Chinese girl - one of the owner's daughters I presumed - called me back. She was pissed but firm and told me to clean up the mess and report to work downstairs where I belonged. She did not fire me on the spot as I expected and maybe she knew that as a newbie someone probably played a prank on me to have me wandering the forbidden seventh floor. I took solace in this glimmer of intelligence but wondered if I'd ever come across anyone else like her where I was headed.
My sister went off to the whoring area because she was good at that from her previous job in real estate fucking. I however can't do sex for money even if I choose such a path. I can neither patronize a prostitute nor be one, it holds no allure for me. So I was forced into menial labor jobs and I had to hang out with a bunch of toothless people who remain in a perpetual state of filth and despair. I didn't want to seem like a snob but I am one and I need a better class of people to hang out with. But such was not my circumstance - nor was any change on the horizon to my black, windowless world.
A taste of life came my way in the basement one day where I found the manufacture of Japanese artifacts including samurai swords (though I couldn't tell the quality, which was important to me). The slave girls were very friendly to me there and like, "Oh you like Japanese stuff?" and I was like, "Yes, yes!" and they let me look around and it was wonderful even though it was just a flavor of life if not an actual feeding.
While down there I came across Successful Radio Guy who'd always been a jack of all trades and currently had a call-in show about cars, which made me very jealous of his life. As we walked along I told him how much I admired his work and then I found out this large banner hanging on the wall was one painted by him. It was a lovely Japanese scene and I envied his many talents and I was like, "Damn, I didn't know you could do that!"
Then I remembered that, oh yeah, back in the day he used to take requests for making banners only it got so popular he had to publicly quit. But he was still making them on the side apparently and he told me of his wonderful life in the outside world where his talents afforded him such a lovely ride. Not that I want to be a commercial painter but I truly envied him because I saw he was a much more developed person than I am and that's what facilitated a pathway for his talents to shine.
I also spied something else going on there at the end of the day. Some of the rich couples bonded with the small Chinese boys who served their meals and devised a way to steal them away from their lives of slavery. The boys were forced to be anonymous, wearing paper bags over their heads but the Chinese masters had outsmarted themselves this time. A couple would call in one boy, act like he never came, then request the boy they wanted to escape with. They'd return the first boy as if he were the second who they then took away to a new life free of this dark house of oppression.
"That's a way out," I surmised. "Making a human connection." But I am an unfriendly and cowering sort which is why I was running around naked in the first place. Human connection, me? But that's when I came across Open Salon when I was moved to the industrial spam section. There I could meet a better class of people (for the most part) than the Dirty Toothless Ones who surround me on a day-to-day basis. No way could I let anyone know my true circumstance so I picked a nomenclature of NormalPerson to fool everyone.
It worked great and I fooled some people into thinking I was a normal person in reality as I sat nude and twisted in my dark room lit only by the light of a monitor. It was tough reading about the Lives Of Others and finally had to pass on those posts as I continued to write in my off hours of a life imagined which everyone thought was real - and of my true life which everyone thought I was making up. The guilt, of course, caught up with me and the stealing of friendships is not a sustainable path. So I have resigned myself to a life of manufacturing spam and ill will, my blog drifting through cyberspace unknown and misunderstood and I myself praying for an early grave.