Cypress Oracle
Aug 15th, 2002, 09:45:53 PM
He sat at the bar as drunk as a skunk (skunks, of course, being among the heaviest consumers of alcohol). His eyes danced in a round-about circle, a ceiling fan whirling above his head. In the corner of the establishment a jukebox sang a song about love and loss. But screw that. This ceiling fan is awesome. It's just--it's so meticulous. Poetic in persuasiveness.
He thought about Mercery. How could he have let him die? No. Wait a minute. He looked down from the ceiling fan for a moment, his brow wrinkling in deep thought. He didn't die. That was a dream. His mind jogged for a moment. And I am not the prince of Fremut. That log was not my scepter. Yet another thought comes to mind. His yellow eyes have to refocus for this one.
"Bartender."
An elderly bald man approaches,. Impeccable, his finely combed mustache. "Sonny. I think you've had enough."
"No", Cypress discourages the 'tender. His eyes dart in relaxed, yet, emphatic fashion. "Do condoms cure cancer?"
"What?!"
"Do condoms--", he begins to repeat the question but stops himself short. "No. That's babies! Condoms cure babies."
"Are you alright fellar?"
Cypress's attention returns to the fan.
The bartender walks off, shaking his head.
Speaking to the fan, "How do you do that? I'd be dizzy by now."
A cell phone, attached to Cypress's belt, rings. He answers, still staring at the fan.
"Hello?"
"Cypress, when you comin' home?" It is a ladies voice, sultry and Asian.
"A little later, I'm hanging out with my friends."
"We both know you don have any friends. Come home."
He looks down from the fan, staring off into space.
"I love a you."
"Ming--"
"Don't you find me attractive?"
He searches for the right words.
"I bought these for you!"
Silence.
"Are you still there? Cypress, sweetie?"
A click is heard over the phone.
"Got another call, Ming. Hold on. Hello?"
"Cypress Oracle?" A dark mysertious voice on the other end of the phone.
"Yeah."
"I've been watching you. I am your doppleganger."
"What?"
"I'm in the shadows. I'm watching you from the shadows."
"Shadows?"
"The bar--I'm in the bar."
Cypress takes a moment to scoff and chuckle. "Dude, I'm straight."
"No. This is a strictly heterosexual male crush. I like your work."
"My work? I've been unemployed for five months now."
"I know. But your past work--is sheer brilliance. I want to propose something to you. A business proposition."
Cypress's eyes widen. "Does this involve money?"
"Yes."
"I'm in."
"Wait. Let me finish... When you were with the RBA, I believe that was some of your finest work. You, Mercery, Dylan--"
"Right. Dill--God. Yeah. Carson, too though. He was like insane." Scoffs. "Bong squared. Lost touch with him."
The voice clears his throat. "Yes you did."
"What's your proposition?"
"I have a job for you, and---it's a pretty big one."
"Let's talk."
"Alright--"
Looking around the place, "Hey, where are you in the bar, man?"
Panicking, "I'm--I'm no where."
"What? I thought you said you were in the bar?"
"No. It's too soon."
A click is heard. Cypress hangs up his end of the line, disconnecting Ming in the process.
As Cypress looks on in his drunken stooper, A dark figure rushes for the exit.
The phone rings again. Cypress answers. "Hello?"
It's Ming. "You hang up on me!"
"Yeah--sorry about that."
"Who was that on the other line?"
"I don't know--a fan."
"A fan, ha! You have no fans. You have no friends."
"Why must you be so hurtful, malevolent?
"Because I love a you."
Cypress hangs up the phone. His attention goes back to the ceiling fan.
Frumet will plummet without me.
He thought about Mercery. How could he have let him die? No. Wait a minute. He looked down from the ceiling fan for a moment, his brow wrinkling in deep thought. He didn't die. That was a dream. His mind jogged for a moment. And I am not the prince of Fremut. That log was not my scepter. Yet another thought comes to mind. His yellow eyes have to refocus for this one.
"Bartender."
An elderly bald man approaches,. Impeccable, his finely combed mustache. "Sonny. I think you've had enough."
"No", Cypress discourages the 'tender. His eyes dart in relaxed, yet, emphatic fashion. "Do condoms cure cancer?"
"What?!"
"Do condoms--", he begins to repeat the question but stops himself short. "No. That's babies! Condoms cure babies."
"Are you alright fellar?"
Cypress's attention returns to the fan.
The bartender walks off, shaking his head.
Speaking to the fan, "How do you do that? I'd be dizzy by now."
A cell phone, attached to Cypress's belt, rings. He answers, still staring at the fan.
"Hello?"
"Cypress, when you comin' home?" It is a ladies voice, sultry and Asian.
"A little later, I'm hanging out with my friends."
"We both know you don have any friends. Come home."
He looks down from the fan, staring off into space.
"I love a you."
"Ming--"
"Don't you find me attractive?"
He searches for the right words.
"I bought these for you!"
Silence.
"Are you still there? Cypress, sweetie?"
A click is heard over the phone.
"Got another call, Ming. Hold on. Hello?"
"Cypress Oracle?" A dark mysertious voice on the other end of the phone.
"Yeah."
"I've been watching you. I am your doppleganger."
"What?"
"I'm in the shadows. I'm watching you from the shadows."
"Shadows?"
"The bar--I'm in the bar."
Cypress takes a moment to scoff and chuckle. "Dude, I'm straight."
"No. This is a strictly heterosexual male crush. I like your work."
"My work? I've been unemployed for five months now."
"I know. But your past work--is sheer brilliance. I want to propose something to you. A business proposition."
Cypress's eyes widen. "Does this involve money?"
"Yes."
"I'm in."
"Wait. Let me finish... When you were with the RBA, I believe that was some of your finest work. You, Mercery, Dylan--"
"Right. Dill--God. Yeah. Carson, too though. He was like insane." Scoffs. "Bong squared. Lost touch with him."
The voice clears his throat. "Yes you did."
"What's your proposition?"
"I have a job for you, and---it's a pretty big one."
"Let's talk."
"Alright--"
Looking around the place, "Hey, where are you in the bar, man?"
Panicking, "I'm--I'm no where."
"What? I thought you said you were in the bar?"
"No. It's too soon."
A click is heard. Cypress hangs up his end of the line, disconnecting Ming in the process.
As Cypress looks on in his drunken stooper, A dark figure rushes for the exit.
The phone rings again. Cypress answers. "Hello?"
It's Ming. "You hang up on me!"
"Yeah--sorry about that."
"Who was that on the other line?"
"I don't know--a fan."
"A fan, ha! You have no fans. You have no friends."
"Why must you be so hurtful, malevolent?
"Because I love a you."
Cypress hangs up the phone. His attention goes back to the ceiling fan.
Frumet will plummet without me.