Tuesday 14 March 8:00 a.m. The Office

Rain’s coming down like day 40 of the great flood. What do they call this shit? Oh, yeah. An atmospheric river.

Slipped my ass in here in the nick of time.

I’m searching Craigslist for more Focus Group Gigs. I’m focused. Three hundred and fifty cash is not so bad for an old dude and I’m paid under the table. This went down last Saturday. 8 hours of sitting on my ass over in The City, eating snacks, listening to the big dogs explain the case and I’m shining like a diamond. The Lebanese dude (I forget his name, Elmar something) a polite host, and very professional, slipped me a white envelope on the way out and I’m home free. I’d give you the company name, a well known Marketing Research outfit, but I’m sworn to secrecy.

One gig a week like that one and I’m wrapped tight. I don’t need to look like a geek offering wine samples at Safeway for eighteen bucks an hour.

The Lobotomy Dude

I’m trying to get some work done but the Lobotomy dude won’t leave me alone. I’m okay with him humming a tune. But now he wants to know what I’m working on.

He looks right at me and asks, “what are you working on?”

“Nothing,” I tell him.

“You can’t be working on nothing. That’s impossible. According to Cartesian Philosophy.”

“I’m doing a job search, okay?”

“Okay.”

He leaves me alone for five minutes. He appears to be working on his own stuff. Then, abruptly, he turns to me and says, “You have a jovial demeanor but your soul is dark.”

“What?”

“I think you heard me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I’m making an observation.”

“This is nothing on you. I’m just busy.”

“I asked you what you were working on and you said NOTHING.”

“Okay…I’m not working on…okay, look. You really want to know what I’m working on?”

“You think I’m no longer a sentient being because I had a Lobotomy.”

“No…not at all.”

“You think it’s funny I had a Lobotomy?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why are you laughing?”

“I’m not laugh…oh for Christ’s sake…you really want to know what I’m working on? Okay, I’ll tell you.”

The Lobotomy Dude’s back story

You want to know what I think? I don’t think he had a Lobotomy. He just uses the fact that he had a Lobotomy to gain a stranger’s attention. I’m not sure about this. Could be he had a Lobotomy. I’m just saying I have strong doubts, especially after hearing his back story.

It’s another day like today. Raining like hell out. I’m in here minding my own business like always and here he comes lumbering in humming a tune and he plops down right beside me because the other end table is occupied by the Asian Dude. Well, he’s here and there’s nothing I can do about it. At least he don’t smell like the Irish dude.

“You mean Scottish dude,” he says. He looks right at me as he says it.

“Hey wait a minute! How’d you know…”

“I read your mind. You were thinking about the Irish man who smells. He’s not Irish.”

“I know he’s not Irish.”

“And yet you continue to refer to him as the Irish man who smells.”

I’m thinking he saw the look on my face as he sat down beside me. A look of revulsion. He saw the look and inferred by this look that I might think he smells. He’s heard me talking about the Smelly Irish dude. Very clever. Too clever. This is how clairvoyant type scam artists operate, I’m told.

“Are you sure you had a Lobotomy?”

“I told you I did. Why wouldn’t you believe me, a perfect stranger.”

“That’s my point. Why would you tell me something so…”

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he says. “I’m Yippy.”

“Huh?”

“Yippy. That’s my name. And yours?”

The Heaven’s Gate Connection

“His name was Bo and her name was Peep,” he says. “Those were made up names.”

I didn’t ask him to explain his name. He feels compelled to explain:

“It was when he changed him name to Tiddly that I changed my name to Yippy. Then he changed his name again to Do, then to Nincom, then to Guinea. I couldn’t keep up with him. So I just stayed with Yippy.”

I don’t understand.”

“Marshall Applewhite. That was his original name.”

“Hey wait a minute. Are you talking about…”

He’s nodding. Reading my mind again.

“I was with him until the very end.”

“Marshall?”

“The Primary Unit. That’s what he called himself. I was supposed to be uploaded but I didn’t make the lift-off. I was at Wendy’s. Eating a T-Rex burger.”

“A T-Rex?”

“Yeah…they take a while to eat.”

So Yippy tells me that by the time he got back to the mansion where they lived, all of the devotees, including Marshall, had already transported themselves to the mothership. They were gone. They left Yippy behind. They left him behind because…

“I had a Lobotomy.”

“You’re saying–“

“–Marshall was instructed to leave me behind. By the Originators. They didn’t want a flawed unit in the transport. That’s what he said in the note. He said I was a flawed unit.”

“He left a note?”

“I found it before the police arrived.”

“And they just let you go?”

“Who?”

“The Police!”

“Oh, I slipped away before they got there. No reason for me to hang around. I wasn’t feeling too good anyway. That burger was way too much.”

“Yeah…”

“You know what bothers me to this day?”

“No.”

“It was the Primary Unit who insisted I get a Lobotomy in the first place.”

“Yeah?”

“He said it would condition me for the space flight. It didn’t seem right to me. Nobody else needed a Lobotomy. I think it was all a practical joke. See if I would do it. Then, when I did it, he went along like he’d been serious all along.”

I’m shaking my head.

But he quickly adds, “It really did calm me down. And I don’t think about women anymore. Now everybody is the same.”

A focus group

I’m trying to explain. They’re called focus groups. That’s a broad category. Marketing Research Companies bring a group of people together, pay them for the day, pick their brains for info on a product or service. I found mine on Craigslist. These gigs show up there regularly. They call them contract jobs. One day of my time pays me 350 dollars cash. That includes breakfast, lunch and snacks. Not a bad deal. Only this one was a Mock Trial.

He’s nodding his head as I explain.

I don’t know why I’m bothering to explain. I feel compelled to explain. Like he has a mental hold on me, like Yippity had on him.

“Tiddly,” he says, reading my mind.

“Okay, Tiddly. Whatever.”

“Who was on trial?”

” Nobody was on trial. It was a mock trial. Like Moot Court. But this was serious shit. They had the lead attorneys for both parties. I thought the Defense Attorney gave the best argument. Anyway, we sat like a jury, while the councilors gave arguments, then we retired to a meeting room and deliberated on a verdict.”

“Who was on trial?”

“Nobody was on trial. It was a mock trial.”

“Another Nothing,” he says.

“What?”

“You’re giving me another NOTHING.”

“No you don’t understand. There is a real trial. This was practice for the real trial. They want to test their arguments. Get our verdicts. That way they can fine tune the case for the real trial.”

“So it’s not a NOTHING.”

“No. It’s serious. There’s gonna be a trial.”

“Who will be on trial?”

“I’m not supposed to say. I’m sworn to secrecy.”

“You took an oath?”

“No. They just said don’t talk about it. I not supposed to talk about it.”

“Maybe you should have a Lobotomy.”

“What?”

“That way you won’t feel bad, talking about it.”

The Defendant

Fuck it. I’ll tell you who the Defendants are. The one’s getting sued. These guys:

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The San Mateo County School board is suing this company for marketing their product to kids in violation of section 201 of the Tobacco Control Act. The company, Esco Bars, a not too sly take on Pablo Escobar, gets away with their advertising by using non plant based Nicotine (Nicotine produced in a lab).

But it turns out the Nicotine they use is way more powerful than the regular shit.

Anyway, that’s the Law Suit. The Plaintiffs want 90 million. And they’re using RICO to press their case.

I decide to share this information with Yippy.

But he vanished.

I’m looking around for Yippy. Nowhere. Maybe he uploaded to the mothership. Wait just a minute. I’m exiting the bathroom. He’s standing beside Old Man Time. The Duffer’s trying to mind his own business. Enjoy his coffee. Yippy leans into him and I hear him say: “You have a Jovial Demeanor but your Soul is Dark.”

Just so you know

I ruled in favor of the Defense.

I don’t think the School Board has a solid case. I mean, RICO is for Mob Outfits.

There’s nothing illegal about Vaping.

Even Esco Bars.