Part 6 August 18th: Bad Poetry Day
Jess walked up in front of the group gathered at Truncheon and cleared his throat. "Hello, all. Welcome to Bad Poetry day. I know you're all itching to get up here with your absolutely atrocious pieces of shit…But this is my store. So I get to go first."
He cleared his throat, and pulled out a sheet of paper. "The Poem of Constant Sorrow. By Jess, Matthew and Christopher."
"I am so sad. It is so bad, that I am so sad. It makes me mad, that I am so sad. It's not a fad, and I'm not glad, because I am sad. I broke my shoe, I didn't know what to do, especially since there was gum, too, I am such a foo'."
With that, the assembled crowd giggled.
"And my momma said, I'm over-fed, and I stay in bed…to long. But she smokes a bong, and wears a thong, and so everything she says is wrong, wrong, wrong. My Daddy's bad, and very sad. He left me here, and I'm in tears in the dark. Alone."
"How much alcohol did we have last night while writing this?" Chris asked Matt.
"Oh, god!" Jess cried. "Why won't you let me die. I just want to fry, like a chicken at Popeye's, and go up into the sky and lie dead. In eternal bed, where I can lose my head, and stay away from…Ned? God…we were really drunk…uhm…Ah! So hear my plea, and come to me, and let me be not sad anymore. Show me the door, and don't knock me on the floor, and give me no more sadness."
He bowed and everyone clapped.
"Thank you. Thank you. I'd like thank Mr. Jack Daniels for the wonderful support he gave us in writing this last night."
The crowd laughed again.
"So, let the rest of the god-awful swill flow! Have at it!" With that, Jess walked off and to the back of the store where his friends were waiting.
"I can't believe it," Matt shook his head.
"You owe me twenty bucks," Jess told him.
"I told you not to bet him," Chris said. He sighed and looked around, spotting a thin brunette in tweed by the door. "Hey, Jess…isn't that…?"
Jess followed his stare, and then looked away. "Yeah."
"Aren't you gonna go talk to her?"
"Nope."
"Can I?" Matt asked.
"She's got a boyfriend," Jess replied.
"When was the last time you talked to her?" Chris asked.
"She called for my birthday and then hung up."
"You should talk to her," Matt said.
"I have nothing to say,"
Chris rolled his eyes. "Bullshit."
"She's here," Matt pointed out. "She's obviously got something to say."
"It's nothing I haven't already heard," Jess replied. "I'm tired of it. I'm not putting up with it anymore." He sighed and began to walk away. "I'm gonna go upstairs. I've got work to do on those new manuscripts."
As Jess made his way up the stairs, Rory walked over to the two other boys. "Is uh…is it okay if I go upstairs to-"
"No," Matt replied.
Rory blinked. "But-"
"He went upstairs to get away from you," Chris said. "So no. You're not allowed upstairs. No one goes upstairs who doesn't work here."
"Well…do you know when he's coming back?" she asked.
"Probably when you're gone," Matt replied.
Rory paled. "He's really mad at me, isn't he?"
"I'm gonna take a stab in the dark and say yes," Chris nodded.
"I'm really sorry," Rory said. "This is weird for me…it's just…Jess has never had friends before, and-"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Matt asked, cutting her off. "A bunch of his friends came down from New York for the signing three days ago. They said they knew each other in high school."
"Well…I uh…I guess I never met them," Rory said quietly.
"Doesn't mean they don't exist," Chris shrugged.
"I know that," she defended. "It's just weird for me."
Matt frowned. "Maybe you should just go home…"
Rory looked down for a long moment before walking off.
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Upstairs, Jess lay on sprawled out on the couch. He'd taken his shoes and jacket off, and was staring blankly at the ceiling.