dignity

a broken man who tried to love and lost, wanders the streets of a nameless town. he remembers days of sunshine and grace, quiet laughter and summer rain - he remembers, but tries to forget. tries to forget how it all came apart. how in losing love he lost his mind, his job and his dignity with a quickness that made his head spin. dirty, stinking and disheveled, he looks for a place to shit in private, but everywhere he goes he's treated like a leper and so he ends up shitting behind a bush in a local park, hoping that no one sees. while he squats to do his business, he is seen by a young woman walking down the street. she recoils in disgust and yells at the old man for his lack of social grace, but she keeps on walking because she's late for work. she's attractive but has a weary look about her, like she's been battered and beaten down by life, or maybe just an abusive boyfriend. she walks quickly, the crystal meth in her veins propelling her on the way to a place where she will dance naked for a room full of drunken businessmen and frat boys. she thinks they're all scum, except for the one with the nice eyes and expensive shoes. she likes him because he makes her feel special, not like a piece of meat on a shiny metal hook, spinning under the lights for everyone to pick at and devour. later that night, she sees him and he gives her a shiny gold necklace and a business card with his name and number on it. maybe she'll call him later, and maybe she won't. as the young businessman leaves the club that night, he's a little buzzed, but he gets into his new bmw and drives away. as he pulls up to a stoplight, he sees a middle-aged man dressed as a hotdog spinning a sign on a corner. he laughs at the hotdog man and tells him to get a real job before driving off into the night. the car he drives isn't paid for, and neither is the driveway he pulls into, or the $500,000 house he brags about to his friends. he's maxxed out on all his credit cards and daily has to contend with a flurry of calls from creditors all over the country begging for their pound of flesh. maybe he'll pay them, and maybe he won't. he has a trophy wife, a pool, a timeshare in cabo, and is well-respected by the guys at the office, so life is good. as he goes to bed, he thinks about the cute stripper at the bar, about how great his life is, and sinks off to sleep, oblivious to the cancer growing in his bones that will kill him in under 6 months. the next morning, after a brisk workout at the gym, a massage and a hot shower, he spends an hour berating a fellow co-worker for his poor judgement and tendency to be too emotional. he could have just written the guy up, but he enjoys making people feel weak and small and helpless, so he drags things out as long as possible, savoring the moment, the raw fear in the eyes of the weak little pussy in front of him. he ends by telling the guy that maybe he's just not cut out to be a manager, and sends him on his way. stunned, shaken and humilated, the young man leaves for the day to ponder his fate, because it's either this, or a trip back to the corner and that fucking humiliating hotdog suit. later on, the young man will go home and smother his dreams of white collar success with a quart of vodka and a handful of prescription painkillers, never to wake again.