Larry is attending an official function, dressed in his military uniform of green suit, red tie and peaked cap. He is being presented to an old man who is dressed in regalia and looks like some form of dignitary. He pins a medal to Larry's chest and says “Well done young fella. But I gotta say you look like a pox doctor's clerk, dressed up in all that clobber”.
Larry bows down respectfully and as he rises his lips move speechlessly for a split second, before he replies “And your face looks like a Packapoo ticket, mate”.
He then moves into an adjoining room where a reception party is in progress, and for the first time he notices Viv. She is standing on the other side of the room, engaged in conversation with an older man who has also received an award. Larry’s eyes light up as he examines her from a distance. She has fair hair neatly tied back in a bun and is wearing an evening dress which lightly cascades over her ample cleavage, follows the narrowing line through to her waist and then pushes gloriously outward, clinging to the expanse of her hips and finally hangs loosely about her long, lithe legs. She is gorgeous and the sight of her almost takes his breath away. He doesn’t need to say or do anything, for the reaction in his eyes reveals his intentions. He must possess her.
Larry inspects himself in a wall mirror and adjusts his face, hair and clothing. Then he boldly saunters across to Viv and her accomplice, gatecrashing their conversation without waiting for an invitation to join in. He takes her hand in his and lifts it as if to place a kiss upon it, looks deeply into her eyes with the hint of a dashing reprobate and says “G’day sheila. The name's Larry O, but you can call me Larry”.
With a slight growl she rebuffs his intrusion by moving back half a step, offering out the full length of her arm so the kiss remains at a formal distance and replies in her deep, almost male voice. “And I'm Viv, but you can call me Your Highness”.
She then ignores him and turns away to return to her prior conversation with the older man, who has been patiently looking on. In response Larry gets angry and impetuously takes her by the upper arm and leads her away to the ballroom dance floor. Over his shoulder, he says to the older man “Listen grandad, you're pissing in the wind here. This sheila only parks behind the girls bike shed, if you catch my meaning”.
Viv is outraged and attempts to escape from his grasp by pulling her arm away from his hand. “What do you think you're doing?” she screams in her husky voice. “Go and stick your head up a koala's bum!”
He realises his bravado has taken him too far and he tries to soothe her.
“Don't go berko!” he pleads. “I just thought maybe you and me could crack a tinnie or two, and then go back to mine and dance the chocolate cha-cha. I've only just met you and I'm madly in love with you already Viv!”
She glares at him and hisses “Don't you start pissing on my back and try to tell me it's raining, sport!”
She breaks free and storms out of the room.
The aeroplane landed with a gentle thud and a plume of burning tyre rubber rose up from the runway. As it screeched to a halt Humvat and Parvark strained from their seats and peered excitedly out of a window, feasting upon the glorious view of grass and tarmac. At long last the dream of the United States of America was an undeniable, touchable reality.
Getting there was certainly a voyage of endurance. Firstly they were forced to remain in hiding with Kinbus and Kipdip while the riots continued outside. The government put a reward on Humvat’s head, which impressed Kipdip no end. She continually teased him by calling him “My sexy little rebel”. Meanwhile Kinbus sat in his comfy chair, shaking his head and wondering how to get Kipdip away from this danger she hankered for, and instead weld her to Carbet’s side.
In the meantime they waited for the Execution of Travel to supply their tickets for America. Hostile diplomatic relations between the two countries at every level of government didn’t help this process. Eventually the problem was resolved by using illicit contacts in North Jefesta to obtain tickets departing from there. A fishing boat was arranged for the two of them to escape across the narrow strait separating the two islands, and now they were ready to go. Kipdip stepped out in her disguise to collect the tickets from the Guide.
Leaving South Jefesta was an easy decision for Humvat. After all, he had in truth very little to leave behind. His sole regret was that he and Kipdip seemed to have formed a relationship which went beyond friendship, yet didn’t quite approach the giddy heights of romance.
For her part, the fact he was now an official revolutionary suddenly made him exotic and interesting. For his part, he didn’t care why she should suddenly find an interest in him, just so long as she did. Given time and a chance, he calculated whatever boundaries there were between them could be surmounted. He was tempted to stay for this opportunity alone, but knew the longer he spent with her, the greater the chances were of the authorities finding them. He couldn’t allow himself to put her in any more danger than he already had.
Parvark was guilty by association and he didn’t really have any say in the matter. He was being dragged along by forces beyond his control.
Kipdip returned from her audience at the palace armed with two plane tickets, US dollars, North Jefestan currency and fake foreign passports, all supplied by the Guide along with his best wishes. He supplied them with new suits, though the sizes were only approximate, and even included a Siminite-English dictionary to help surmount the language barriers they were bound to encounter. The hour of departure had arrived.
They crept down to the pebble beach during darkness, found the boat and pushed it into the sea. At that moment both Humvat and Kipdip came to understand the enormity of the occasion. He was leaving and he could never come back. They might never meet again, and unspoken words and feelings would always remain unspoken. Belatedly they both jumped the hurdle separating them and finally embraced with the unresolved passion they carried for each other. Humvat kissed her neck and smelt the fragrance of the talc she’d dabbed over herself after washing earlier. He gently sniffed it, knowing that whenever he caught a scent resembling this one in the future, it would bring back memories of this moment with her.
“When I become a Hollywood star, I’ll send for you.” he sobbed.
Kipdip also started to shed tears.
Parvark shouted to him that he was in danger of missing the boat, so Humvat reluctantly broke away from her svelte lips, bounded through the waves and Parvark pulled him aboard.
“I’ll wait for you Humvat!” she cried into the darkness.
They waved and shouted to each other until they completely vanished from each other’s sight and sound.
Reaching North Jefesta proved to be an arduous task, never mind America. The craft they were given was a sailing boat, but the wind kept changing direction and neither of them had any idea of how to tack. Every time they thought they’d reached the other side of the strait they were blown back towards the coast of South Jefesta. Then the wind dropped again and they merely floated along with the currents.
When they eventually did make landfall they were so tired and hungry it took the best part of a week to recuperate. On arrival they discovered, somewhat to their surprise, that they blended in quite easily with the locals. The Semonite tongue was extremely similar to their own, and people assumed they simply spoke a remote dialect.
They decided they might as well use up all their North Jefestan currency before travelling on, excusing their lush behaviour with the argument they weren’t going to be able to spend it anywhere else. Having exhausted most of it on food, wine and song, Parvark belatedly realised they were now in a country which was friendly with the west. This meant they could exchange the money for foreign currency, and they collected nearly one hundred dollars to add to those supplied by the Guide. Having no more local money to spend and no more reason to stay, they bid a fond farewell to North Jefesta. With air tickets in hand and determination in their hearts, they set off on the final leg of their trip, and now they were here.
The exc
itement of arriving at their destination temporarily banished away any tiredness they felt. Both of them disembarked with a warm handshake for the flight attendants and a sparkle in their step. Parvark yearned to fall to his knees and plant kisses all over the ground, but managed to limit himself to a cry of “Praise be America, land of free!” and by way of explanation, he idiotically grinned “I am loving this country!”
Humvat peered out at the throng of departing and arriving aeroplanes wandering across the airport, and looked up into the blue sky. Even the sun had come out to shine a welcoming smile upon them.
They then followed the other lost and confused travellers trudging aimlessly out of the bowels of the airport. They walked along corridors, up escalators and down steps for what seemed like mile after strength sapping mile. They were weary by the time they reached the immigration control hall, where a dam consisting of four manned kiosks funnelled the flood of arrivals into a long snaking river of a queue.
Humvat warily scanned each kiosk to try and assess the likely merits or potential problems that might lie beneath the uniforms of each of the officers manning them. If there was a single crucial point in the long list of separate steps forming their escape plan then this was it, because they were dependant upon an outcome which was entirely out of their hands. If their requests for entry into this country were rejected by any one of these solitary men, then the game would be over. He knew what to expect. They would be tortured and interrogated. Both their bodies and minds would be systematically broken apart, piece by piece, until they confessed that the passports were fakes and they were really from South Jefesta. Then they would be humiliated, deported back home and thence face certain death. He mentally limbered up to give the performance of his life.
The queue rhythmically started, stuttered and stopped, started, stuttered and stopped. He began to sweat profusely as he was gradually pushed towards the kiosk, and the shadowy figure inside whom he'd superstitiously decided would be best to avoid. He tried to clear his throat as he neared his moment of destiny, and then all of a sudden it was upon him as the queue jerked into life once again. He shakily handed the passport to his uniformed arbiter, and waited for the crushing weight of the discriminating hand of United States law to be placed upon his shoulder. To be accused, unmasked and led away to await that dreaded voyage back to execution.
Instead the strangest thing ever happened. The man returned the passport, smiled and said. “Welcome to the United States of America, Larry. I hope you enjoy your stay”.
Parvark – who was immediately behind him in the queue – was equally bewildered when he witnessed this informal greeting. He handed over his own fake passport at the next kiosk. The immigration control officer here hardened his features as he scrutinised both the document and Parvark. “What's the purpose of your visit?” he barked.
“I visit with him.” replied Parvark, gulping and pointing towards Humvat.
“On your way.” ordered the officer, bidding him through with the wave of a hand, though he made it sound more like a warning than an invitation.
Parvark caught up with Humvat as they both hurried out of the immigration hall and hissed. “What was all that about?”
“I don't have a clue.” hissed Humvat in reply. “He called me by the name of Larry for some reason. Let's get out of here before they realise they've made a mistake and drag us off to the cells”.
They then followed a series of signs which led to a large hall where they were directed to retrieve their baggage from a grinding, grunting carousel which promised far more speed than it ever delivered. While they waited for their cases to appear, one of the airport workers waved at Humvat. “Hey, Larry!” he shouted. “How ya doin?!”
Humvat looked at the man quizzically and enquired “You talking at me?”
“Sure am, Larry.” replied the man, cheerfully.
“You make mistake.” lectured Humvat. “I no Larry”.
“Whatever you say Larry.” smiled the man as he walked off.
Humvat shook his head, perplexed by the irrationality of these American people who took it into their heads to insist he was some stranger whom he plainly wasn't.
Their cases eventually spewed out and they made their way through customs and emerged from the arrivals hall into the main concourse of the airport. They both jumped up and down and hugged each other. “We've made it!” shrieked Humvat through a manic grin.
“We have sanctuary in the land of the free!” cried Parvark.
“Hello Hollywood!” sang Humvat.
“Bye bye Larry!” waved one of the female passengers as she departed.
“Bye bye.” replied Humvat absentmindedly.
“Right then.” announced Parvark importantly. “Let's find a taxi to take us to the studios. My contact should be able to get us some work pretty quickly”.
With tired glazed eyes they walked along, looking up at signs hanging from the ceiling until they came across a black outline diagram of a taxi. An upward arrow alongside it directed them to the next floor. Humvat was beginning to feel exhaustion seeping into him, so rather than walk any further he joined the queue filing onto the escalator and hopped aboard. He allowed the machine to take the weight of his baggage and yawned his tiredness away with a smile which could scarcely believe he had made it to this place.
He looked down at Parvark who stood a few places behind him. As the moving steps approached the top of their circuit, the young man standing on the one above him accidentally dropped his sunglasses on the steps. They got caught up in the grating, and tumbled around and around as he awkwardly tried to pick them up in vain. But the escalator did not stop for minor obstacles, and kept on turning. Like a line of dominoes set up to fall against each other, Humvat tumbled into him, and the man behind Humvat tumbled into him and Parvark in turn tumbled into him so the four of them landed in a disjointed collection on the floor.
The young man who caused all this with his abject fumbling for his glasses was contritely embarrassed. He offered sincere apologies to all three injured parties. Humvat and Parvark attempted to extricate themselves with a modicum of dignity and picked up their cases.
“Idiots! These Americans are idiots!” grumbled Humvat as the red faced young man and the other man walked at some speed around a corner and out of sight. It puzzled him that those two now seemed to be joined together, whereas previously they were separate strangers. It was almost like they were accomplices. Then he felt a sudden realisation that not everything about him was as it should be. Something somewhere was missing. He patted the various parts of his body where pockets were supposed to be until he reached his backside. “Holy Baqra!” he gasped in a panic. “I've lost my wallet!” Then he had a further realisation. “No! Those American idiots have stolen my wallet! All of our money is in it! Quick Parvark! Run after them!”
Both Humvat and Parvark immediately gave chase but their robbers were gone.
“They must know this airport inside out.” puffed Parvark, breathing heavily. “They're probably miles away by now”.
“Well, this is a fine welcome to America.” heaved Humvat. “We've only been here two minutes and we've been robbed already. I’m not sure I love this country so much after all”.
They returned to guard their cases, lest they be stolen as well and sat on them as they emptied their pockets to see how much loose change they could rustle up. They counted a grand total of ninety two dollars and fifteen cents between them.
“Your Hollywood contact had better be good.” muttered Humvat with the unspoken hint of a threat.
They reached the taxi rank outside and joined another shuffling queue. The sky overhead started to grow overcast along with their mood. Eventually they reached the front of the queue.
The taxi window wound down. “Where to gents?” asked the driver.
“How much monies to Hollywood?” asked Humvat in reply.
“Hollywood? Hmm.” He scratched his chin as he performed a mental calculation. “It'll
be around 50 dollars”.
Humvat nodded. “Okay. We have enough monies”.
As the cabbie drove them out of the airport complex and into the freeway system, Parvark was struck by an idea and asked the driver. “We visit America for new time. Tell, does my friend look like famous person in your country?”
The cabbie glanced up at his rear view mirror. “Yeah, I guess he looks a bit like Larry O, the guy on TV”.
“What you know of this Larry?” interrupted Humvat.
“Well, he's Australian and the program is about him saying all these whacky phrases like 'It's as scarce as rocking horse shit' and 'It's all between asshole and breakfast'”. He sniggered as a particularly amusing memory of Larry sprang forth. “It's pretty funny. Lotsa folks are talking about it right now. It’s real popular”.
“Where we find it?” continued Parvark.
“Hmm, it plays on PBS, I believe”.
The taxi drove along the freeway and they both excitedly pointed out the various billboards, signposts and skyscrapers. “Ah, isn’t California such an inspiring landscape?” smiled Parvark. “With all these huge buildings, these monuments to the gods”.
The taxi driver glanced in his rear view mirror, distracted by someone in the back speaking some weird foreign language.
Humvat noted that they seemed to be travelling a long journey, and after a while the taxi drove off of the freeway and into a suburban sprawl. “Whereabouts in Hollywood did you guys want to go?” asked the cabbie.
“Place where studios are.” replied Parvark.
“What studios?”
“Universal, MGM, United Artists. Any is good”.
“Excuse me sir, but whereabouts do you want?”
Humvat leaned forwards towards the driver’s seat and smiled condescendingly. “They near big Hollywood sign on hill, not in these flat streets”.
Then the penny dropped – at least for the cabbie – and he immediately stopped the car. He turned back in his seat to face them.
“Listen gents, I'm afraid you've made a big mistake here. You're looking for Hollywood, California but this is Hollywood, Florida. You guys have flown into Miami airport when you should've flown into Los Angeles”.
They both looked at him blankly with a stupefied shock which spoke with a silence of its own. After a few seconds Parvark stuttered. “How far to other Hollywood?”
“I'd say about two and a half thousand miles. You want the West Coast but you're on the East Coast”.
“Oh shit.” muttered Parvark, holding his face and rocking back and forth in a trance-like state.
This couldn't be happening. There must be some explanation. Surely they hadn't taken all those chances and invested all their heroic effort into this journey of hope and glory, merely to be sent to the wrong place, thousands of miles in the wrong direction by an idiot clerk at the Execution of Travel.
After a few more moments Humvat broke the tension. “How much monies we owe?” he asked, fearful of the answer.
“Fifty dollars dead.” said the cabbie. It was actually sixty three dollars and seventy cents, but he felt a token of pity towards these two foreign idiots. They gathered together the money, handed it over and wandered out of the cab in a shocked daze as the taxi driver unloaded their luggage from the car trunk.
They stood by the roadside with their cases lying on the sidewalk and watched the taxi drive away. Humvat turned on Parvark, waved his arms in the air like a distraught windmill and screamed. “This is just marvellous, this is! We're stuck in the middle of nowhere, thousands of miles away from where we should be and with forty dollars between us. What are we going to do now? Where are your famously helpful contacts now?”
Parvark spat back. “Don't start on me, you miserable lump of monkey shit! If you hadn't just lost all our money back there we could still get plane tickets to Los Angeles instead of dying of thirst and hunger in this godforsaken place!”
“Lost? I was robbed damn you! A traumatic event from which I'm still suffering, I might add”.
Parvark sat on his case with his head in his hands and began to quietly sob.
“Listen,” sighed Humvat. “Fighting each other isn’t going to get us anywhere. We need to come up with a plan, and we need to come up with it fast”.
He patted a comforting hand on Parvark's shoulder and then walked around in a small circle, scanning the horizon. “Maybe we can start by finding a barn to sleep in for the next couple of nights.” he said hopefully, knowing full well in his own heart all he could see was a suburban vista of single story houses.
“Or maybe we can rob someone. Or maybe we should head back to the airport and seek asylum”.
The grey clouds started to drip down a spitting rain as though a huge wet sponge was being slowly squeezed by an invisible giant hand high above them.
Humvat stood by the road, wistfully surveying the distance. A passing car unexpectedly squealed to a halt, reversed back towards them and the face of an overweight, middle aged woman popped out of the driver’s window. “Oh my God!” she shrieked. “I don't believe it! Is it you? It is you! Oh my God! I'm such a fan of yours! What on earth are you doing out here?”
“Trying to get to airport.” sighed Humvat, his deep troubled thoughts not having registered she also seemed to think he was this someone else person.
“I'm headed that way. I can give you a ride.” she offered.
“Are you for sure?” replied Humvat, taken aback by this show of generosity.
She smiled kindly. “It would be an absolute honor. I won't take no for an answer”.
They loaded their cases into the back of her car and set off on the freeway back towards Miami.
“Oh boy, I'm gonna dine out on this for the rest of my life.” she beamed proudly as they made their way back past the billboards and skyscrapers they’d recently passed, but now travelling in the opposite direction. Parvark found them much less impressive, now he knew they didn't represent California after all.
“Just think of it.” she gushed. “Me driving along with Larry O sitting in my car. This is so weird. You’re gonna have to let me take some pictures”.
“But I - “ started Humvat.
“Larry thanks you for your favour.” interrupted Parvark, realising this resemblance had just bought them a free ride they would not be receiving otherwise.
After a few minutes of idle banter she asked “Larry, I know this might sound strange, but can you do one of your lines for me? I think it’s such a turn on, and when I get home my boyfriend won't know what's hit him”.
Humvat nervously scratched his nose and glanced across at Parvark, who was wide eyed and nodding his head. “Okay, I try”.
“Right.” she giggled. “It's the line where you say 'Hey babe, you're hotter than a piss in a sauna'. I love that line”.
Humvat nervously cleared his throat as he always did before a performance and spoke unsteadily as he always did. “Hey babe, you're hitter than a poss in a sauna”.
“No, sorry, that is wrong.” he flustered, and tried again. “Hey babe, you're shotter than a piss in a flauna. No, sorry, is wrong. Please give me moments for prepare”.
She glanced across at him inquisitively then focussed back on the road ahead, the fixed grin on her face rapidly losing its permanence.
After a few more apprehensive minutes of driving in silence, and waiting for this magic composure to materialise, she said “Okay then Larry, how about you do the one about being in the middle of woop-woop?”
Humvat picked at the imaginary scratch on his nose, coughed loudly and gave up the pretence with a shrug of his shoulders.
“I no remember that one.” he apologised as he stared uncomfortably out of the side window.
She glanced across at him again, this time retaining the glare. “You're not Larry, are you?” she blurted with an amalgam of fear, disappointment, anger and realisation in her eyes.
Humvat shook his head miserably in an admission of guilt.
She pulled off of the freeway at the next exit and demanded they and their baggage leave her car immediately.
“And to think I was going to have sex with you!” she retorted as the tyres screeched and the car lurched forward.
“My loss.” Humvat mumbled to himself as they watched the second car of the day speed away.
Parvark quickly arrived at a decision and declared “You know what Humvat? You’re really going to have to learn to speak English like this Larry person if you're going to succeed in this country”.
And then he noticed the more industrialised surroundings of the warehouse and factory units now around them. “At least we're in a more promising part of the city. Maybe we can get a bus back to the airport from here”.
He picked up his case and started to walk through the drizzle in what seemed like the most promising direction.
They wandered aimlessly for a while through the empty expanse of an area which seemed to be devoid of both people and traffic. Eventually they gave up and sat on the sidewalk in the drizzle with their cases on their heads, so they could ponder and review their situation. They concluded their immediate problem was that they possessed little money. Forty two dollars and fifteen cents, to be precise, stood between them and absolute poverty. But an application for political asylum would, on review, be too dangerous. Firstly they would become a visible part of the system rather than anonymous wandering minstrels, and possibly fall foul of the South Jefestan authorities. Secondly, they might get refused and deported back to South Jefesta anyhow. So the obvious solution was to find some paying work immediately. Parvark noticed a damp discarded newspaper on the ground, carefully picked it up and thumbed through it until he came to the Classifieds section. He checked through the situations vacant but, although there were lots of positions advertised, there was nothing in there which struck him as suitable. It was all accountants, clerical, computer programmers and health administrators and suchlike.
“I suppose we could get jobs working in a hamburger restaurant.” pondered Humvat, his groaning stomach reminding him it had been a long time since his last meal. “Do you think we'd get to eat for free?”
“Probably.” replied Parvark absently as he turned a page, browsing through the vacancies. And then the following advertisement hit him, square in the face, smack between the eyes.
Amazing Career Opportunity!
Do you enjoy travelling? Do you enjoy excitement? Do you enjoy making money?
If you can answer Yes to the three questions above then you may have what it takes to become a member of our sales team, travelling from Florida to California.
To book your seat on our adventure call Mr Tony Valento on 212 465 3322 between the hours of 11am and 5pm. Only people aged over 18 and free to travel should apply.
“This is perfect!” beamed Parvark as he pointed it out to Humvat. “What could be better? Not only do we get to travel to California for free, but we get paid at the same time!”
Humvat nodded approvingly. “This,” he smiled, “Is destiny at work”. As if to order, the drizzling rain ceased and a small patch of blue appeared in the sky.
They found a payphone, Parvark dialled the number and a female voice answered the phone with a gruff “Yeah?”
“Mister Tony Valento, if please?” he asked.
She didn't respond. He heard her voice in the background shouting “Tony! It's the goddamned phone again!”
There was the muffled sound of a male voice muttering in the background, and then a bright and breezy “Hello. Valento speaking”.
“Hi, there is job in newspaper...” started Parvark.
“Okay. Are you over eighteen years of age?”
“Yes I am”.
“Are you free to travel?”
“Yes I am”.
“Then come up for an interview right now. Do you know the Portland Plaza Motel? It's downtown, on Lexington and San Simeon”.
“No, but I find it”.
“Good. See you soon then. What's your name by the way, son?”
“My name is Parvark. Can I bring friend? His name is Humvat”.
“Is he over eighteen years of age and free to travel?”
“Yes”.
“Sure. The more the merrier”.
Parvark put the phone down and faced Humvat. “The good news is we have an interview for the job right now. The bad news is we've got to spend some more money on another taxi”.
From out of the vacant wasteland a cab appeared and stopped when they hailed it. Maybe destiny was at work after all.
After a fifteen dollar taxi ride they walked around the junction of Lexington Avenue and San Simeon Boulevard, searching in vain for the grand plaza building where the interview was to take place. They were now in a neighbourhood teeming with cars and people and the noise which came with them. They walked over to a nearby tree lined street where there was a market. The first stall they came across was a hot dog vendor. They smelt the hot frankfurters and sizzling onions, felt their empty stomachs and decided to lavish some of their precious money on themselves. They walked along the street as they ate, first past a sweet sugared candy floss stand and then the orange, lemon and lime aroma of Cuban food. They stopped and looked down the line of stalls where people from Mexico, Brazil and the Caribbean were selling their native foods. At the end was a farmer’s market selling meats, vegetables and dairy produce. Sandwiched in between these were stalls selling cheap Chinese imports – watches, sunglasses and suchlike. Nearby some musicians played a Latino beat on electric guitar and drums. Meanwhile a street performer wearing a blue painted cardboard box moved amongst the crowd of people, proclaiming himself to be “The Human Jukebox.” If you put a coin in the cardboard slot and pushed a button he’d sing the tune selected.
Parvark finished his hotdog and wiped his mouth with a tissue.
“This is all very well and I could spend all day wandering around here,” he said. “But we’ve got an interview to find”.
A beautiful young woman with large blue eyes, olive skin and straight black hair sat on a wall nearby. “Hi” she smiled at him. “Would you like some company this afternoon?”
Parvark looked her up and down, peered into her eyes and slowly shook his head. “I like company,” he sighed wistfully. “But I no got monies”.
She smiled a condolence at him and shrugged her shoulders, as if to say that while she might be many things, she wasn’t for free.
Humvat spotted an old woman slowly walking along the street ahead of them, balancing precariously on her high heels as she tottered along. They briskly strode up behind her.
“Excuse, madam,” he shouted above the noise of beeping traffic, “Where is Portland Plaza Motel?”
She turned around and smiled coyly at them. They started to smile in return but as they beheld her, their eyes fought to conceal their horror. Her smile was missing two front teeth and her face wore several days worth of stubble beneath the liberally applied make up. Her tattered hair consisted of a worn and matted wig. In short, this woman was a middle-aged man wearing a torn skirt and sporting a band-aid on his hairy knee.
“Which building wath that?” she lisped as she eyed them up and licked her lips deliciously, as though she might be selecting her favourite flavour of ice-cream.
“Portland Plaza Motel.” faltered Parvark.
She or he or it pointed with a dainty finger across the road towards an Art Deco style building which had withered with age. “I think you'll find thath the Portland Platha young man”.
They warily stared across at the faded façade and mumbled thanks.
“Well, don’t I get a kith then?” she asked, puckering up her lips.
They politely declined and politely ran for their lives across the road, desperately dodging the trucks, bikes and cars and hoping she wouldn't be able to chase after them.
“These Americans are lunatics!” shouted Humvat, over the noise.
They walked towards the Motel and pas
sed a woman who was sitting upon a neatly folded blanket spread out on the sidewalk. She was studiously reading a paperback book. She looked youngish and well cared for. Her long blonde hair was tied back in a neat ponytail. Her clothes, though showing signs of fading and aging, were obviously clean. She looked up at them, put the book down and held out a small tin. “Excuse me sirs,” she smiled weakly. “Do you have any loose change you wouldn’t mind losing?”
She pointed towards a small placard on the blanket which announced “Homeless, through no fault of my own. Please help”.
Humvat stared down at her, motionless, in a state of shock.
“No, very sorry.” mumbled Parvark, dragging him along by the arm.
“Sweet Baqra!” gasped Humvat, coming back to his senses and shaking his head. “I never imagined in my worst nightmares that there might be beggars in this nation”.
Upon inspection the sign “P rtland Pla a otel” was hanging on a chain above a door, slowly swaying in the gentle breeze. They walked past the peeling white paint and in through the entrance. Humvat ushered Parvark into the gentlemen's toilet, both of them still clutching their cases.
Once inside he said brusquely “Right then. Our moment of destiny has arrived, at this time and this place and we must travel to meet it. If we pass this test then we get ourselves back on track to the Hollywood in California. If we fail then the future is too awful to even contemplate. We’ve only got the one opportunity to make a good impression so let’s smarten up our presentations”.
They opened the cases and rummaged around for their best clothes and changed into them. They reappeared in the lobby wearing their creased, ill-fitting suits and approached the reception desk, which was bathed in a dingy half light.
Parvark announced. “I am Parvark and he is Humvat. We see mister Tony Valento for appointment”.
The receptionist pursed the faintest of forced smiles and pointed them towards a group of people in a corner of the lobby. All were diligently filling in forms.
“Can we leave here?” asked Humvat, pointing to the cases. The receptionist sniffily acquiesced with a curt nod.
A girl approached them and asked. “Are you two here for interviews?”
Fully aware of the seriousness of the moment, Parvark nervously nodded. Humvat, though, was dumbstruck by her attractiveness and regarded her with the possibilities of romantic interest. He did truly love Kipdip but she was, after all, a long distance away and perhaps snuggling up to Carbet at that very moment for all he knew. Unaware she was being romanced, the girl sullenly handed them each a clipboard with a pen attached to a length of string. She instructed them to sit down and fill out the forms on the clipboard as fully as possible
Humvat pored over his form. At the top, in bold print was the legend “Valine Inc. Employment Application.” Then below this was the following statement. “All job applicants will be considered regardless of race, color, religion, sex, age, national origin or handicap”. These words of respect for life, for the world at large, reassured him. Then followed a number of sections which required him to write details about himself. Remembering the attractive girl's advice to fully commit his details, he diligently filled them in and finished just after Parvark. The girl then collected the clipboards and told them to take the application forms and proceed to the interview room along the main corridor.
They found a door with a handwritten sign “Interview Room” stuck to it, knocked and waited. A few seconds later, a smiling boy emerged from the room. A cheery male voice from within followed him, saying “We’ll see you at eight tonight”.
Then they were beckoned into the room by the man with the voice. He stood up from behind a long table with a large old television perched at one end. “How do you do, boys?” he grinned. He offered each of them a firm handshake. “I’m Tony Valento. Pleased to make your acquaintance”.
They introduced themselves and he bade them to sit down. “Okay.” he began. “I guess you’re asking yourselves what this is all about”.
They weren’t actually. As far as they were aware they already knew what it was all about. It was simple. Travel for free and get paid for it. “It’s not all about travelling for free and getting paid for it.” he continued. “There’s work to be done along the way as well. We represent a product called Deterjeron, which is the premier cleaning solution in the marketplace. But we don’t sell it through normal sales channels, such as chain stores, because we don’t believe that gives the public the most cost effective benefits. Instead we market it directly ourselves through our mobile sales force, and we’re planning on travelling across the country from the East Coast to the West Coast, stopping off at a number of places along the way”.
“Which places?” interrupted Humvat impatiently. He wanted to make sure he was going to the right Hollywood this time.
“Well let me see now. There are 14 of them.” Valento pondered as he tallied the names off. “Orlando, Tampa, Tallahassee, Mobile, Birmingham, New Orleans, Houston, San Antonio, Phoenix, Tucson, Las Vegas, Los Angeles and San Francisco. How many was that? Thirteen? There’s one more…. Oh yeah – El Paso”.
Humvat was impressed by this long list of place names. There would be much American culture for him to soak up and help further his acting career. He reasoned that maybe he wasn’t in such a hurry to get to Hollywood after all. It would still be there in a few months time, wouldn’t it?
Parvark on the other hand wasn’t so happy. He had ambitious plans for a career in Hollywood which was already waiting for him, and all this travelling represented obstacles and delays. They both kept a guarded silence.
“Okay then,” continued Valento. “Let’s have a look through your résumés on the application forms”.
They handed them over to him and he scanned the top of each one and pointed to them in turn. “So you're Humvat Virit and you're Parvark Laska. Is that correct?”
They nodded their heads.
“It says here your home addresses are in The Peoples Republic of South Jefesta”.
They both nodded their heads.
“Is that because you don't have a home address in the United States?”
They both nodded.
“Humvat, you haven't filled in the educational section”.
Humvat nodded. “I have no educate. I was goatherd from child. I educate myself”.
“Hmm. And you've both ticked that you're over eighteen years of age but you filled in your dates of birth as being in the years 3586 and 3588”.
“Yes.” nodded Parvark. “I born in year 3586 AB”.
“AB?”
“After Baqra”.
“And I born in year 3588 AB.” offered Humvat.
Valento seemed a little confused. “Let me get this straight Parvark. For the section where you have to fill in details of any Military Service you may have undertaken you've written that you completed twelve months in the Republican Guard....”
“Yes. In army of People's Republic of South Jefesta”.
Valento looked even more confused. “Okay. And for the question 'Have you ever been accused or convicted of a criminal felony', you Parvark have replied no, no, absolutely not, whereas you Humvat have replied Yes, and that you were accused of being an enemy of the state. Can you please elaborate on this?”
Humvat shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. “Er, it was mistake. I also mean to say no, no, absolutely not”.
Valento stared hard at the two of them, not sure what to make of it all. “Well, I tell you what.” he laughed. “I hired two guys recently from South Jefesta and they produced record sales figures, so I’d never turn down anyone from South Jefesta, no sir”.
Then he looked up from the application forms. “There's just this thing about your dates of birth. You are both aged over eighteen years and free to travel, aren’t you?”
They both nodded furiously.
“Well, in that case welcome to the Deterjeron Sales Crew.” he beamed, offering each of them y
et another firm handshake and a form.
“How do you feel about coming down here tonight? Then you can start the job first thing in the morning. I just need you to sign these contracts of employment”.
“That is most excelling.” beamed Humvat, accepting and returning the handshake with vigour and signing his signature on the form. Parvark, however shook hands and signed with a reluctance born of the wariness of a keen sense of survival which only comes to one who has previously been betrayed. Even if this really was a case of destiny at work, it was all beginning to sound just a bit too good to be true.
There was a knock on the door. “That’ll be the next interview. Sorry guys, but I’m going to have to wrap this one up now. See you later”.
Humvat rose in a stunned elation, and as they opened the door and went to walk out of the room Valento shouted after them “See you at seven tonight then guys!” The next nervous candidate waiting outside in the corridor seemed duly impressed by this, as they closed the door behind them and headed back towards reception.
Inside the interview room, Valento picked up the phone on his desk and smiled as he spoke. “We’ve got two hot ones on their way back to reception. They’re homeless mongrels and they’ve got nowhere else to go. Be good to them and they’ll be ours”.
He replaced the receiver and cheerily called out “Come on in!” and the next interviewee turned the door handle.
Back in South Jefesta, Doctor Wirliv was perusing his latest translated text from the Book of Finding Contentment. He read through the text, marvelling at the words.
“Last night I dreamt I was walking down a road when I came across a man walking ahead of me. He stopped, beckoned me over and said to me ‘I am extremely wealthy. I live in a palace which is full of servants. I eat the best joints of meat and drink the finest wine every day. I have gold, jewels, silken clothes and the finest furniture. I have a beautiful wife who wants for nothing, yet I feel an emptiness inside of me. I cannot understand why this should be’.
We carried on walking and talking together, and we then came across a beggar. ‘Oh please help me masters!’ he wailed. ‘I have no money, I have no possessions and I only eat rotten vegetables whenever I can scavenge them. My life is so miserable and I am so unhappy’.
I bade him to join us, and the three of us walked and talked. Then I had an idea, and said to the rich man ‘Why don’t you give half your fortune to this poor man. Then each of you can live in a middle degree of comfort rather than at the extremities’.
They regarded me, looked at each other and smiled”.
“The meaning of this dream is that you will find no contentment in pursuing a life style of accruing possessions simply for the sake of convenience. Contentment is instead achieved by sharing your chattels with others who have need of them. You should strive to reach the position where you have enough money to live without discomfort, yet are not surrounded by material goods you don’t require. If you care more about gaining grace through good acts than you do about money, then you will find you have reached a state of contentment”.
Chapter Ten
Godliness Through Deterjeron