Sitting on an old leather couch, I look around the room. I see a lamp, a television, some picture frames with old photos of my childhood, and my pet parakeet, J.J. Fruity Feathers; Nothing more, nothing less. Just three months ago, though, that flat screen was a portal to an ever-changing and vivid dimension, my toaster was a high frequency bread incinerator module, and this couch pillow was my lover. Words are leaking from J.J.’s beak, “ abandon ship”. I don’t know what to make of it now. If it were the old me, I would be a sailor on the Titanic and perhaps J.J. would be the Kate Winslet to my Leonardo DiCaprio.
My peace of mind has broken, the colors have faded… Ever Since that day…
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It was easy to confuse it for some sort of family restaurant. It was owned by a lazy-ass named Ronny. He was the only one in there when I stepped in.
“Hey where’s Henry, Ronny”.
Ronny slowly got up and as he walked up to his dusty counter top responded, “I’m glad you asked. He’s in the back checking inventory. You better hurry up since he also seems eager to speak to you”.
After coming to this bar for two years I learned a couple things. One: Don’t ask Ronny for anything and expect him to do it and two: checking inventory is code for either taking a nap or doing something that shouldn’t be mentioned out loud. Luckily it was the nap. Henry was lying on a set of crates full of bottles of liquor. After hearing the sound of footsteps he turned to me and grinned.
“Well, well! And so it begins. Listen up kid cuz I’m not gonna say this twice, but just to be sure, you have the money”?
I had twenty thousand dollars in the bank just for this day. Before telling my dad that I was studying art, I worked as an intern in his company. He paid me more than the common employees as if to butter me up to thrown me into the business permanently.
“Yeah, all of its still there. Just tell me how we’re gonna make it big”.
He looked straight in my face and raised his left brow; “it’s not some sorta complicated science, if you wanna make it big you just gotta make it big”.
I sat down on a barrel and looked at him with a bored face waiting for him to stop talking gibberish.
“Now don’t look at me like I’m some sorta retard; what I meant is that if we wanna be great cartoonists we just gotta make our own juicy cartoon. One that’ll make some T.V. executive say wowza”.
“So you want us to make a cartoon by ourselves. You do realize that an entire staff for one show consists of writers and animators, so on and so forth”.
“Don’t worry the reason why I asked you to bring some cash is so that we can hire some of my pals that graduated from school wit me”. You’re the imaginative one. So you come up wit the story like you always did when we were in college and we’ll help you produce the entire thing. Then we send it to a guy I know who works for a kids T.V. station. So when can you have the script done ”.
“I think I can get something good done in a couple days since I have some rough ideas at home”.
“Perfect send me a copy when your done then meet me afterwards so we can discuss copywriting it with my lawyer”.
I was working on campus so now that I graduated I was able to use all my time coming up with some ideas. I had never written a cartoon this long before, but I felt inspiration and confidence flowing through me. Ever since middle school I was told that I was extremely imaginative compare to most kids. I turned every normal situation into a story. Eventually my dad sent me to a psychiatrist because it looked like I couldn’t tell the difference between reality and the depths of my mind. He caught me talking to a plant while I was pretending to be a magician stuck in an...