The Seduction of Silence

i have work. the worst invention of man apart from the weapon. i don't particularly like dressing up in a tuxedo, or being the only banquet server @ my resort that doesn't speak Espanol, but i sometimes think that it's a blessing in disguise. i don't comprehend the language, so they think i don't comprehend much at all and leave me alone. i work at an easy pace and take my time. At $25 an hour, i don't see the rush. that's what i do like about it. good money. easy work, except for the occasionally heavy lifting, and i don't have to talk to people, nor they to me. i can think to myself throughout the day, uninterrupted. and then there's Sarita, my little Mexican crush. short. cute face. great smile. a matching attitude. and that bottom--my god! she's always got these booty shorts on underneath, and i stare at the outlines and imagine her wearing only them. Despite the discomfort in my pants thereafter, it makes the day go by quite nicely.

our banquet director, gathers us and tells us that today we're going to be working a 'special' function today, and that 'NO TALKING' is going to be allowed. we are to work the way we always do, perform our everyday tasks the way we always do, but to add 'no extra noise of any kind.' i figure our executive staff is in attendance, entertaining rich, white owners or major stock holders, but i don't give a shit about them and quickly go on to other thoughts, like Sarita's ass, and start getting the things we'll need for the function.

approaching the Executive Lawn i notice there is not a whole lot of noise going on around the area. no lawn mowers. no gardeners. no room service, janitors, housekeepers, or any of the other usual work and i wonder if the illegal immigrants got inspired by the writers and went on strike again. then i see the sign...





The Seduction of Silence





what--the fuck?

the lot of us, sweating and chafing in our ugly-ass, wool penguin suits, walk out onto the lawn and are met by a group of comfortably dressed residents who are warmly greeting each other in a familiar embrace but at the same time it also seems that they don't know each other...and they've all got name tags on, and aren't saying a word. it all starts to come together.....these chumps have been scammed into some fucking "get in touch with your soul, become one, be silent, be still, give me your money, sucker"-typed seminar! they all have these smiles on their face like they've just been doped up (and they probably unknowingly have), and they're walking about, so...happy, but taking extra precautions not to make any extra noise.

'someone grab a gun and blow my head off,' i quietly consider, 'but would that require a silencer at a function of this nature? what? a silencer? for a suicide! you god-damned pussy! get the loudest damn gun you can find!'

they all file down the buffet line, breathing deep, take their seats and begin, with their forks and knives chattering for them, and the site and lack of any communication, while they're all sitting right next to and across from each other, leaves me absolutely creeped out. the only thing i can think about is farting as loud as possible. a few of them eye me and motion to their water or iced tea pitchers in a comedic, Charlie Chaplin-like manner, silently making hand gestures to notify me that they need a refill. i pretend not to understand so i can watch more of their elaborate, frantic movements. their arms flailing about, twisting and flapping, and i say, "what's that??? i don't understand! ....what?" laughing inside.

or i would excitedly nod and hold up my index finger, indicating, "Oh, I understand! be back in a jiffy!" and rush away confidently. they feel good about their finger pointing skills, silently patting themselves on the back, thinking what great deaf-mutes they'd be if circumstances were different when i come back with a smile of assurance, softly setting down nothing close to what they asked for. I give a big thumbs up, showing a lot of teeth when i see their eyes widen @ what I've brought them, but hurry away quickly, leaving them flailing more furious than ever, and--knowing they won't say anything--i don't look back. management should have known not to schedule me for an event like this...they should have known.

i can't help but think what absolute boobs these people are...giving away probably a thousand dollars for this "life-changing" event.

"this is the answer to my problems." one winks to the other.

"oh, this is most definitely the cure." the other nods back.

"...and what a fair price!" another smiles.

fucking suckers....then i start to think about the church retreats i went on as a kid, and how the people there didn't know one another, but they too would embrace each other, like they were childhood friends who had finally found each other. and seeing all this makes me think how i was probably at one point just like these people. thinking how good it is to be ignorant. and it really was. things haven't gotten any easier the more i've learned, the more i've realize what a fucked up place this is we're in. they give the Shepard's cane to an ignorant son, and tell him he has one job: keep the sheep ignorant, keep them fearful, and keep them in line. get them fat and comfortable, keep them busy, and DISTRACT, DISTRACT, DISTRACT as they're led quietly to the cliff.