This video has been lurking around in the back of my head for several weeks now. To me, that is an involuntary inspiration and a sign that I should just go with it.
Now we all know that Chris Brown is just an average singer. Nothing to sneeze about, and someone we will all forget in a few months...my sarcasm is fantastic. ;-)
And of course we all know that Colin Tilley has directed the worst videos ever, for the most no name of artists:
Lil Wayne & Rick Ross - John
Jeremih & 50 Cent - Down on Me
J.Cole & Missy Elliot - Nobody's Perfect
Justin Beiber - Never Let You Go
Tyga & Lil Wayne - Faded
I mean really...who has ever heard of those people?
Seriously, here's the video from Chris and Colin that inspired my short story (sidebar - while I've thought of this video I never actually wrote the story until my recent, weekend writing retreat):
Here's the story:
His Saturdays were usually routine. After watching David and Xavier’s baseball game, he dropped them off at their friend’s and went grocery shopping. He would wander aimlessly in and out of the aisles thinking about what life would be like if Marlena wasn’t so wrapped up in all her glorious bullshit. If she didn’t ooze bullshit from her thighs and stomach, neck and face. It was disgusting. After the week’s worth of groceries were packed away in their Honda van, he would carry them home to put away and start on the laundry. That was it. Kids, food and dirty clothes. His Saturday nights couldn’t get more depressing. Tonight, however, was different. Not because certain events were unusual but because Paul had willed it to be different. He was in the bread aisle outwardly dissecting the difference between the 100% wheat and 100% butter top wheat yet inwardly challenging himself to do it, to walk over there and say something. A whole minute passed by while he studied the bread. A whole minute had passed by and she was still standing at the far end of the aisle. Carin was every man’s fantasy, including Paul’s. She was that neighbor whose smile draped with flirtiness. The neighbor who seductively leaned over her petunias, letting one breast peep so gently out of her low cut shirt. Now she was standing at the edge of the hot dog bun shelf, licking her lips and looking his way.
“So, what are you going to do, write a report on the bread or what?”
“Oh hi Carin! I didn’t see you there. I…um…I’m trying to make sure I get the heartiest kind-,”
“And then what are you going to do?” She interrupted.
“Well go home I guess.” But he didn’t want to go home. Even the words tasted sour coming out of his mouth. His wife Marlena was waiting for him at home. She was the reason for all his imaginary excuses for staying at work late and lingering in this supermarket. He didn’t want to go home to her or her bullshit.
“Why don’t you come home with me?” Carin asked. Paul started sweating.
“Come on. You know I’m married. Don’t say things like that.” He picked up a pack of Stoneground 100% wheat and placed it in the cart. She strutted her way down the aisle and ended up right next to him, face to face.
“114 E. French Boulevard. Apartment 13D.” And with that she was gone. Paul couldn’t pay for his items any faster than he could blink. He stumbled out of the store, dropping his keys and clumsily throwing the bags into the backseat.
“Hey honey, h-how’s it going?” He wiped the perspiration from his forehead, which had formed at the mere thought of driving in the direction of Carin’s apartment. At this point in his life, Paul couldn’t care less about Marlena. Her bullshit was always getting in the way. He needed a break from it.
“When will you be home?” She asked.
“Soon…er, well actually I’m headed to work to work on something. So, you probably don’t need to wait up.”
“Did you even get the groceries you dimwit? I’m hungry. I want my dinner.” She was beginning to annoy him and ruin the mood he created just for Carin.
“Okay I have to go. We’ll talk about it later.”
“Paul! You can’t just hang up on me like that. We are not done-,”
“Gotta go honey. Bye.” He ended the call quickly and made a sharp left turn, running through a yellow light. The phone rang again with Marlena’s name flashing in bright neon. He ignored it. Only four more streets to go. His mind wandered to when Marlena’s bullshit began. It was definitely after they had Xavier, and became worse after David was born. The boys were almost teenagers now. Time seemed like it stopped but her bullshit just grew and grew. Carin was perfect. Not an ounce of bullshit on her. Finally, he pulled up in front of the 114 E. French Boulevard apartment building.
