Fame

He says, “I’ll take a photo of you and make you famous.”  And he takes out his smart phone, and smiles.

Today’s the end of the world.  No party, it just is.  That’s that.  Some guy gets stabbed outside of the Apple Pan.  A mom witnesses this, texts her son, and he reads it out loud, inside his century-old shack.  “Stabbed?” everyone gasps in horror.  “Yes,” the girl squeaks, “today’s a weird-vibe day.”  And the girl in the long flowing dress asks, “Because it’s judgment day?”  Yes, they all agree, because it’s judgment day. 

So, the skinny girl with skinny hips and wild Shakira curls, steps out of her curtained-in dressing room, in the skinniest cigarette jeans you ever saw, sucking into her skinny-tanned crevices like a hand vacuum.  Her wild black hair hangs down her breast, her white lace bralette, and she says, “What’s going on out here?”

Oh!  He thinks, putting down his phone with a ghastly warning from his mother, I need to photograph you.  I need to immortalize this beautiful moment, where a guy gets stabbed in front of the Apple Pan, and you come out, like a little nymph, with your wild curls and your skinny legs.  “I’m gonna make you famous,” he says, and he takes out his smart phone.  And this is her big break, immortalized as someone’s cell-phone desktop picture.  “Well, golly!”  And she shakes her full head of curls to the right, and looks shy at the camera, her white bra pointed.

So, today’s judgment day.  And this is true because some rich pastor bought a bunch of billboards across the globe, and told everyone: May 21, 2011.  5-21-2011… and you’d think the accumulation of numbers would be more interesting...like a bunch of ones, or a bunch of sixes, or even sevens.  Nope, just five-two-one-two-zero-one-one.  Just like a phone number.   

A girl, sloppy drunk, tells a boy, who’s not so sloppy drunk, “call me.”  “What’s your number?” he asks.  And it’s judgment day.  Don’t call her, buddy.  She won’t remember anyway.  Plus, it’s judgment day.  And it’s a bad omen.  Ask anyone; it’s a bad omen.

And I don’t care if I die poor.  As long as I’m famous.