A packed congregation sits hushed inside a large cathedral. Stained glass windows, set high in a dome in the middle, convert the transparent light passing through into all the colours of the rainbow. This spectrum shines down on a throne on the ground below in the centre of the cathedral, where Larry sits. He is holding a mace in one hand and a golden ball in the other. A religious dignitary stands solemnly before him and anoints him on the forehead, at the same time mumbling an ancient incantation. He then turns to an assistant who is holding a silken cushion, upon which sits a crown. He picks up the crown, turns back before Larry, continues to quietly chant and goes to place the crown on his head. Suddenly there is a rasping noise in the background. Enraged, Larry grabs the priest’s hand and pushes the crown away. He leaps up from the throne, prowls around and he starts to address his audience. But although his lips start to move, he says nothing for a fraction of a second. Then he shouts.
“Okay then, which one of you lot just let mister fluffy off the chain?!”
The crowd remain silent.
“Come on!” he barks at them. “Who was it? Which one of you opened their lunchbox?! Because I can tell you, if you’d have given it some choke it might have started!”
There is still silence.
“Right then!” he yells. “Nobody leaves this place until somebody owns up. You can bet London to a brick on it!”
As he returns to his throne and sits back down he mutters to himself. “You know, these people are about as useful as tits on a bull!”
Then he looks at the priest and shouts “And you’re so stupid you wouldn’t know a tram was up your backside until the bell rang!”
A distant voice calls out “I reckon it was you what done it, Larry!”
Larry’s angry expression instantly turns into a smile. He looks towards the distant voice in the congregation and says “Fair dos mate, but I had you all going for a minute there, didn’t I?!”
The priest solemnly nods his agreement, bows his head and sighs to himself “What a way to make a quid”.
He then carefully places the crown on Larry’s head. Larry rises, slowly this time, and walks down the main aisle towards the cathedral entrance. When he gets there he turns back around and says “And you all thought I was just a tyre kicker. Huh!” Then he turns on his heels and marches purposefully out of the building.
Humvat found himself walking out of the stage school and into the narrow street, on his way to the prayer temple. Kipdip ran towards him with her arms outstretched.
“Oh Humvat, why have you deserted me?” she cried. “I've been desperate to tell you how I've realised it's you I love. I love you with a passion which stirs such yearning within me, a passion I never knew I was capable of feeling”.
Then he heard another voice, a male voice.
“But Kipdip.” interrupted Carbet, who had magically appeared from nowhere. “I thought it was me you loved?”
Kipdip squirmed and smiled shyly, as she realised the embarrassment of a momentary lapse.
“Oh yes, Carbet, the love of my life.” she sighed. Then she shrugged her shoulders. “Sorry Humvat, I forgot”.
Humvat blinked his eyes open, and for a disorientated moment he assumed he was lying in bed in his lodgings in South Jefesta. He then became aware something somewhere was not as it should be, and sleepily examined the unfamiliar surroundings. His lumpy mattress was now smoother, the soft pillow firmer, the brown woollen blanket was now a blue duvet and there was a metallic noise in the corner that swept away the mist of his dreams and replaced it with the growing lucidity of consciousness. Ah yes, he was in his new lodgings somewhere in South Florida instead.
He wearily yawned and tried to remember what he'd just been dreaming about. It was lying there somewhere on the edge of his mind but was rapidly fading away, back into the void of his subconscious. The ever growing distance forced him to give up and let the memory return to wherever it came from.
Then he became aware the room was deserted apart from himself and the company of the radio in the corner, hammering out a loud, thumping thrashing mess of a song. He leant across the bed, picked up Mikey's watch from the bedside dresser and cursed to himself. It was seven fifty-five. He'd missed the seven thirty sales training meeting, and this was why the room was empty. He retained no memory of any noise or commotion, so could only guess he'd peacefully slept through the early morning alarm call and Mikey's farting. But despite the sleep he remained exhausted and growing ever more depressed at the thought of a reprise of the previous day's experience. He decided to seek out Parvark and tell him he'd made his mind up. He arose from the bed and searched for his clothes amongst the debris strewn across the floor.
He arrived outside the conference room at the same moment as the attendees were filing out. He was so desperate in his pursuit of Parvark he barely noticed he seemed to be having an intimate conversation with Janine. Humvat brusquely interrupted them and pulled Parvark to one side.
“Good morning sleepyhead.” greeted Parvark. “Guess what? We're on the register now, and you just got fined thirty dollars for non attendance”.
“I don't care about that.” snapped Humvat. ”You were right all along. This is a terrible place. I've had enough of all of this sales training which is easy in theory but impossible in practise. I think we should leave. Now“.
“Whoa now! Hold on!” exclaimed Parvark. “You must be doing something wrong, because I'm on my way to making a treasure chest full of money! I made three hundred and forty eight dollars yesterday. Nobody has ever done better on their first day”.
Humvat continued, ignoring him. “I'm also fed up with trying to cheat and deceive the old, the stupid and the naive by glorifying a cleaning fluid which is really no better than soapy water. I haven't made a single sale because my conscience won't allow me to hawk this drivel. Please, let's go now”.
He grabbed hold of Parvark's arm and attempted to pull him along with him.
“Sounds to me like the whining of a loser.” snorted Parvark, pulling himself away and evading the grasp. “You can't hack it, so you start blaming everyone and everything other than yourself for your predicament. None of these so called old, stupid or naive people are poor. Nobody in America is really poor. Even the so called poorest are a darned sight richer than you and me. And do you know why? It’s because they're milking money from the state. They're all on welfare handouts. I know this because Janine has told me. So to answer your concerns, I don't have a moral problem with exaggerating the cleansing power of Deterjeron if it makes the difference between me getting a commission or not getting one”.
Humvat's lower jaw dropped down to his ankles. Holy Baqra. In the course of a single day Parvark had turned from a recalcitrant salesman with a strict moral code into a human cuckoo, happy to lay his eggs in any old nest and foist his own chicks upon the unwary. Humvat neglected to consider his own conversion in the opposite direction.
“Look.” soothed Parvark. “I'm doing really well here. Why would I want to throw it all away just because you're having a crisis of confidence? Stay, at least for another few days and see if you can find the MindTone within yourself which will enable you to overcome your doubts and fears”.
Humvat privately noted Parvark was even beginning to sound like a Deterjeron employee. He'd obviously been brainwashed.
“Okay.” he mumbled dejectedly. “I'll give it a bit longer”.
Janine waved at them. “Hey, Parvark honey. Are you ready to hit the road now?”
Parvark nodded and went out into the car park to find sales crew two. Humvat followed him, sought his own van and climbed in with aching limbs and a beaten heart.
After being transported in the van to another distant suburb, Humvat found himself being led by Grant like a dog on a leash, being walked through a different town but a familiar neighbourhood. All of these places were beginning to look the same.
“Well, my man. Today is the proud day you make your first sale. You been pr
actising your Larry spiel?” demanded Grant.
“Some.” lied Humvat. “But I have not had much of time”.
Grant pointed at a house with a car parked in the drive and said. “Okay then. That one over there looks like a good prospect. Go get 'em tiger. And don't forget to use Larry's most famous catchphrase. What is it?”
Humvat wracked through the filing cabinets of his mind for the meaningless words, but he’d carelessly mislaid them and stared back vacantly, hopelessly grasping for the phrase.
Grant seethed. “It's 'You're hotter than a piss in a sauna', you dumb motherfucker”.
Unabated by this savage treatment, Humvat nodded that he was prepared to deliver his lines and marched towards the house.
He stood on the doorstep and rang the bell. After a few moments a smartly dressed, middle aged woman with dyed blonde hair opened the door.
“Can I help you?” she enquired.
Humvat proudly beamed at her and exclaimed. “You're hotter than a piss in a sauna, you dumb motherfucker!”
The woman eyed him with a mixture of alarm and disbelief.
“Excuse me?”
Humvat continued to beam obliviously. “Larry O's the name, mate, and I'm selling this”.
He produced his sample bottle of Deterjeron and held it in the air. “Wanna buy some?”
The woman shook her head. “No I don't, honey. But I might want to buy you”.
She stared hard at Humvat and walked around him, closely inspecting his features.
“Visually you're a very impressive Larry lookalike, but your performance is dreadful.” she pronounced. “You sound nothing like him”.
Humvat, who was beginning to feel a vague discomfort at being pawed over like a caged tiger in a zoo, sighed.
“I know. I told this to him”. He pointed towards Grant, who was smoking a joint and looking away from the house as he allegedly kept his duty watch.
The woman thoughtfully stroked her cheek. “You know something? An acquaintance of mine runs a lookalike talent agency. They'd definitely be interested in you. You should consider a change of career, honey”.
He sighed mournfully again. “What does lookalike talent agency mean?”
“Well, basically they provide people who resemble famous stars and they impersonate them”.
“What does impersonate mean?”
“It means they pretend to be the famous stars”.
This suggestion turned his vague discomfort into a specific uneasiness. Humvat shook his head vigorously.
“No, no and thousand times no. The pretending to be Larry got me into a trouble two days ago, and I nearly arrested for doing yesterday”.
The time had come to bring this dangerous conversation to a close so he bade farewell and turned to flee without the sale.
But before he could bolt the woman asked “That's a strange accent you got there, honey. Whereabouts are you from?”
“I from People's Republic of South Jefesta”.
“Then I assume you've got a work permit?”
Humvat sniggered. “Work permit? For why do I need work permit? This is America, land of the free”.
“Don't you know if you haven't got a work permit you'll end up getting picked up by the immigration department and deported back to South Jefesta?”
Humvat now started panicking at the thought of being deported. “In South Jefesta I need permit to work and permit not to work, but America is land of free. How I need work permit in land of free?”
The woman slipped him a business card, at the same time saying “Listen honey, if you decide to change your mind give me a call and I'll sort you out a job and a work permit. It pays well too. You’re the only decent Larry lookalike I’ve ever seen, and I estimate you could earn a thousand dollars per appearance”.
Humvat’s eyes widened and his mind started ticking over with this information. He accepted the card and placed it into his trouser pocket.
He rejoined Grant, who snapped. “Well, did you make the sale, big guy?”
Humvat shook his head and Grant raised his eyes skywards. “Please tell me you at least screwed her!”
Humvat balefully shook his head.
“Well, son of a bitch! It looks like we've finally found a fucking replacement for David Johnson as the company whipping boy”.
Humvat ignored him. He was too busy making mental calculations and weighing up options as they ambled along the sidewalk.
“Tell, Grant.” he mused. “Are foreigners needing work permit in this country?”
“Oh yeah, man. If you ain't gotta work permit then you’re illegal, and the Feds'll haul your sorry ass straight back to where it came from”.
Humvat felt in his pocket to check he still possessed the business card and decided perhaps it was time to give destiny an opportunity to work in a different direction.
An hour later he gave Grant the slip for a short while and returned to the woman's house. The business card said her name was Janet Mobey and she was the CEO of Fitting Faces Talent Inc, whatever that meant in any language. He rang the bell once again, and she opened the door once again.
He stood on the doorstep and nervously stuttered “You can really get me job with lookalike talent agency friend?”
She smiled. “I know it honey”.
“How you can know?”
“Because the friend who owns the agency is me honey. Sorry for not telling you earlier, but I didn’t want to scare you off”.
Omitting to mention how he came to be in America, Humvat explained his current situation to her. How his belongings were in the motel, and how he could only join her agency if his friend Parvark could come along too. She accepted these terms and arranged to pick them up from the motel car park at nine thirty in the evening, and spirit them away to the asylum of her house. Having agreed to sell the next chapter of his life to a higher bidder, he skulked away to walk invisibly through the daylight shadows of the suburbs, wandering the streets like a homeless nomad until he eventually ran into Grant.
It was dark once again when sales crew number one returned to the motel car park. And once again their combined sales performance was pitiful. In a fit of fury after yet another conversational disaster, Humvat refused to impersonate Larry any more. As a result of his outbreak of negative MindTone he had achieved zero sales, thus earning himself the accolade of the biggest Weak Assed Loser of them all. Even David Johnson managed to pull a quart sale from out of the hat.
A crestfallen Humvat sloped out of the van and into the motel. He blindly sought out Parvark, and eventually located him in the diner where he was eating and sitting in cosy conversation with Janine. He slumped onto the seat next to Parvark and gratefully accepted a free cup of black coffee from a waitress.
Janine eyed him with disdain.
“Did you finally manage to make any sales today then, Dumvat?” she ridiculed him.
He weakly shook his head, the insult failing to penetrate the wall of miserable fatigue and self pity enveloping him. Parvark motioned towards her. The expression in his eyes said she should leave them for a private moment. She took the hint and stood up, puckered up and bent down to deposit a kiss upon his forehead.
“I'll catch you later, top dog.” she purred as she ran her fingers through his hair and sidled seductively out of the room.
Humvat's narrowed eyes and pursed lips silently followed her until she walked out of the room, and then he wailed.
“I can't take any more of this place. It's destroying me! I didn't go through the pain of leaving my family and home in South Jefesta and coming to this country for this life of ignominy”.
Then he sniffed. “Did you know we're supposed to possess work visas if we are in employment in this country?”
“Don't be so ridiculous!” scoffed Parvark. “This is America, land of the free. You can do whatever you want in this mighty nation”.
“That's what I thought.” Humvat muttered. “But I have been informed by two separate sou
rces today it is not the case“.
He leant forward and whispered conspiratorially “I, that is, we, have been offered an escape route. I met a woman today who runs some form of theatrical agency where they pay people to pretend to be famous stars. She wants me to pretend to be this Larry person I seem to resemble, and she is willing to pay me a thousand dollars each time I do it. And she will obtain work visas for both of us”.
Parvark chortled. “Well your money all depends on how many times you get asked to pretend to be this Larry. You could be earning something, but you might be earning nothing. I, on the other hand, earned six hundred and fifty eight dollars commission today. It's the highest amount anyone in this company has ever achieved. I'm going to make a treasure chest full of dollars, and I'm already the top dog. The so called immortal Jimmy Rees is now merely number two, and you want me to trade all this real money in for possibilities of nothing? You can go and pretend to be this Larry character if you like, but I'm staying put here”.
“You've got to come with me.” urged Humvat, pressing his case forward. “If you stay here without a work visa, eventually the authorities will discover you and you'll be deported back to South Jefesta. Do you really want to face execution because of your devotion to money and Deterjeron?”
Parvark gazed thoughtfully for a few moments, picked at his unfinished meal with a fork and eventually sighed.
“Can't we stay for a few more days? You wouldn't believe what Janine said she is going to do to me this weekend”.
Humvat shook his head. Everything was arranged for escape at 21:30 hours that night, in thirty minutes time.
They each crept up to their rooms, packed their bags and furtively met back in the lobby. Parvark noticed Valento entering a room, pondered for a moment to gather his courage, then followed him in. His intention was to claim his kitty before he departed into the shadows of the night, just like the girl he'd been greeted by upon his arrival. He opened the door and was surprised to find Valento and Janine locked in an embrace. Valento was facing away from him, but Parvark could still discern he had one hand up the inside of her bra and the other swarming over the waist button of her jeans. For her part she had unzipped his trousers and entered her hand. She noticed Parvark out of the corner of her eye and quickly unlocked the embrace. Valento turned around towards him. He smiled an embarrassed yet superior smile, like a parent caught stealing apples by a child. “What can I do for you, top dog?”
“You can give me my one thousand and six dollars.” replied Parvark with both deadpan face and voice.
Valento put his hand in his pocket. “I can give you some of it”.
“No, I want all of it. I leave now”.
Valento turned on Janine. “What's going on here?!” he roared at her. “Can't I trust you to do anything right?”
Humvat had seen Parvark wander into the room and also entered, carrying his case. “You!” spat Valento. “You can get the hell out of here! Right now!”
He tugged at his shirt cuff and glanced at his watch. “As of 9:17 pm Eastern Time, on this Friday June the 15th in the year of our Lord 2012 your employment with us is terminated. Get outta here, you goddamned sorry son of a bitch loser! Don't let me ever see your ugly weak ass again!”
Then he turned back to Parvark and shouted. “But you're going nowhere pal. Nobody leaves me unless I allow them to. You signed a contract and I'm holding you to it”.
Alerted by the commotion, Joe the bodyguard hurried into the room with his gun drawn. Valento pointed at Humvat and shouted. “Joe! Throw this bum out”, then pointing at Parvark, he muttered “And escort this bum back up to his room”.
Joe put the gun back in its holster, and with his two vast hands gripped around each of their necks he marshalled Humvat and Parvark out of the room. “Okay boys, no need to make this any uglier than it has to be.” he growled.
“But you no understand.” pleaded Humvat. “Parvark does not have work permit. Some time, maybe week, maybe month, authorities will find him and send him back to South Jefesta. And he will be executed”.
Joe glared at Parvark. “Is this true boy?”
Parvark nodded. “This is why I leave here. I do not want to die”.
“What exactly did you do then, boy?”
“We upset government and had to flee country. This is reason we come to America. Otherwise we would be killed”.
Joe released his grip and shook his head. “I can't force a dead man walking to stay here. Especially if he's innocent. I ain't got it in me.” he confessed.
Valento, realising his grip on Parvark was loosening, turned on him in a fury. “Well you can forget about getting any of your kitty, you cheating son of a bitch! You signed a contract to stay with us until California and you want out after two days? Forget it, man. In fact, I'm gonna sue your ass for damages. You'll be hearing from my lawyers. Now get your sorry looking face outta here!”
Janine attempted to retain some form of dignified decorum by sitting down in the background, pouting silently as she adjusted her clothing. Parvark winked sarcastically at her and said “Now I know what you mean by being with right people. I was right people to make treasure chest of money for you and your boyfriend. You just think me as fool. Well I have been foolish, but I am not fool”.
“You’re walking out of here without any money!” spat Valento. “That seems pretty fucking stupid to me!”
As they headed out of the conference room Valento ordered Joe to stop them and made them empty their pockets, taking all of their loose change in lieu of payment for two nights stay at the motel. He told them they could consider themselves fortunate they weren't leaving with a bullet in each of their heads instead.
They then went out to the car park for the last time and found Janet Mobey waiting to transport them back to her den. She opened the car doors with the click of a button and they stooped down and clambered in.
“Welcome to Fitting Faces, honeys.” she smiled, and started up the engine. As she drove away Humvat peered out towards the sidewalk in front of the motel and smiled to himself. The ghostly beggar woman who had been haunting him was no longer there. However, his smile abruptly vanished when he realised he had no idea where she had gone.
Two hours later they were all sitting in the comfort of Janet Mobey’s opulent home, drinking glasses of fine wine and eating slices of fine pizza. After the third bottle she drunkenly presented Humvat with a contract, which she informed him he had to sign before she could process his application for a work permit. Given the contractual problems they’d experienced earlier with Valento, he giggled at the thought of this, yet signed anyhow.
“Where do I sign?” slurred Parvark.
She looked at him ominously and shook her head. “I'm sorry Parvark honey, but I can't get you a work permit. You don't look like anyone famous”.
“Do not worry.” slurred Humvat. “I will look after you, Parvark honey”.
Parvark considered. On the one hand, instead of earning a treasure chest of money, he would have to rely on the generosity of Humvat. But on the other hand, thanks to Humvat’s performance before the police the previous day, Tony Valento was now a wanted man in the state of Florida.
They eventually both stumbled upstairs to their own bedrooms and slept a deep sleep without the interruption of televisions, radios or farts.
The next day they were in Janet Mobey’s office. Humvat was rehearsing for his new role, playing the part of Larry.
“No, no, no Humvat honey. Larry simply doesn’t say it like that.” she seethed patiently. “Can somebody please get me a DVD or a VCR tape or any sort of footage containing Larry, so we can show Humvat how to play him properly?”
Her two female assistants rummaged around in a box and clattered on a computer keyboard but reported that they couldn’t find a single sample of Larry, not even on the internet. Janet Mobey tutted and checked the weekly television program listings from the Sunday edition of the Miami Herald. She tetchily threw the paper to the gr
ound.
“It’s always the same. When you want to watch a show you can never find it; just a deluge of crap you don’t want to see. And when there is something decent on you miss it”.
She composed herself and pointed to a corner of the room. “Humvat honey, will you walk over there for me, where my car keys are on the floor?”
Humvat obediently ambled across.
“And will you bend down and pick up?”
Humvat obediently picked them up.
“And will you bring them over to me?”
He obediently brought them over to her.
She shook her head. “You know something? You sure look the part, and you’ve mastered the movements and the gestures, but you just don’t sound anything like Larry. I don’t understand it at all”.
Humvat could have told her why, if he could have been bothered. The reason why he didn’t sound like Larry was simple. He wasn’t Larry. But that wasn’t going to stop him from jumping aboard a gravy train which paid him a thousand dollars per public appearance. He intended to hang on to his first class seat with grim determination until he’d amassed enough money for Parvark and he to launch themselves towards the gilded streets of Hollywood.
She clapped her hands together. “Right girls, I can’t believe we can’t get hold of any Larry material, but in the interim we’re going to have to improvise. I want you to take a notebook and write down all of the Larry quotations you can think of. We’re going to have to teach him by rote how to speak like Larry does. Parvark, honey, you can make the coffee”.
Parvark sloped off to the kitchenette, mumbling mild Siminite swear words under his breath. He’d much preferred it when he’d been the star of the show and Humvat was relegated to the side benches. He was already bitterly regretting his decision to leave behind his kitty and the vocation he was born to perform.
While the assistants scrabbled around for some writing material, Mobey sat down at a desk and switched on a computer.
“In the meantime,” she smiled at Humvat, with the promise of a fortune teller casting the sparkling dust of a secret spell in his direction, “I’m going to upload your details onto our website”.
She picked up a digital camera, pointed it at him and trilled. “Say cheese!”
Humvat beamed an obedient smile at the camera.
He then spent some time with the girls in the office. They scrawled down all the Larry phrases they could remember and Humvat, in turn, set out on the journey of learning his routine.
Janet Mobey sat at her computer, typing away on the keyboard. The telephone rang and she indulged in a hushed conversation. She replaced the receiver with a flourish.
“Jackpot!” she screeched. “Humvat honey, your details have only been on the website for four hours, and you’ve already got your first engagement! Didn’t I promise you riches honey?”
Humvat happily nodded his head.
“And aren’t I delivering them?”
He happily nodded his head again. After all the false hopes and false starts he’d suffered, it looked like his dream was finally getting back onto that gravy lubricated track again.
The two girls whooped, jumped up and clapped at each other. Humvat nervously joined in. There was still an element of the unknown about this adventure, and deep inside him this still inspired a fear. Parvark looked into his eyes, and knew him well enough by now to spot the faint trace of sweat across his forehead and the uneasy shifting in his eyes. Although he himself was being shabbily treated, it was in his own interests for Humvat to succeed and earn enough money to get them both to their rightful place in Hollywood.
“Well done Humvat.” he congratulated, shaking him by the hand and patting him on the shoulder. “With your acting skills, I’m sure you’ll do just fine”.
Humvat returned the handshake, not sure if Parvark was poking fun at him or not.
“What is first engagement?” he asked Janet Mobey.
“It’s a wedding in Las Vegas, and it’s tomorrow. They want you to be the best man. You’ll have to fly out this afternoon, stay overnight in a hotel and fly back tomorrow night”.
Humvat looked horrified by this lonely prospect.
“I want Parvark come with me.” he gulped.
Later that afternoon Janet Mobey took them to the airport and they caught their flight to Las Vegas. They were booked into a hotel by the airport and it didn’t take them long to locate it. They checked in, ate and then wandered down to the ground floor casino every hotel in Vegas has. They were at once both amazed and stupefied by the acre upon acre of gambling tables, surrounded by fortress walls of slot machines. Anxious to experiment, they each bought 10 dollars worth of chips. Humvat headed for the roulette tables. Each table seemed to cost a different amount to play, so he chose the cheapest, at one dollar. He vaguely knew the rules from some of the old films he’d seen, and placed a chip on the number 14.
“There’s a two chip minimum on this table.” rasped the impatient croupier. He spent every working day dealing with foreign tourists who didn’t understand the house rules.
“But then I must bet two dollars, not one.” argued Humvat. “Maybe I play the two dollar table instead?”
“That’s a two chip minimum table as well.” came the blasé reply. Most of them were cheapskates as well.
Humvat placed a second chip on the number 21, then changed his mind and placed it on 27 instead.
The wheel spun around, the small silver ball was dropped in and clattered around. As the spinning wheel came to rest, it nestled in the slot reserved for number 21.
Humvat cursed both his luck and his judgement, and immediately placed two more chips on the table. Within less than one minute he managed to turn his initial investment of ten dollars into the sweet smell of nothing.
Parvark tried the slot machines with a similar lack of success.
“I don’t like gambling.” muttered Humvat. “I feel like I’ve just been robbed again”.
They decided to retire to their hotel room for the night. Parvark picked up a copy of the Las Vegas Review-Journal and hopefully checked the television listings. He was disappointed to find Wild About Larry wasn’t playing on any station.
After a good night’s rest they breakfasted the next morning and waited in the hotel lobby for their assignation. Humvat was attracting some studious glances, which he was hardly aware of. Dealing with the public gaze which came with being Larry was becoming second nature to him already.
A couple approached them. The man flashed a smile and offered Humvat a firm handshake. “Hi Larry. I’m Mike and this is my wife to be, Amanda”.
Amanda proffered Humvat her hand and also, hidden from sight of her husband to be, appeared to offer him a seductive wink. Humvat was puzzled. Surely he’d been mistaken.
Parvark leant forward and offered his own hand to the happy couple. “I am Parvark, and I am security”.
He was proud of himself for finally inventing his own role in the proceedings. He was just hoping he wouldn’t actually be called upon to prevail over any interlopers.
“Now I know the bride and groom aren’t supposed to see each other until the wedding ceremony,” continued Mike. “But Amanda was so excited by the prospect of meeting my new best man she insisted on coming out to greet you”.
“I certainly did. I’m a huge fan of Larry, and Mike laid this on as a last minute surprise for me.” she smiled sweetly.
“It is honour to be best man on your special occasion.” smiled Humvat in return. And then, there it was again. He was certain. She’d just fired another wink in his direction.
Mike continued. “I have to tell you, you weren’t our original choice. Amanda’s brother Pete was supposed to be performing the honors, but he’s in the services and two days ago he got called up with 24 hours notice to leave for a tour of duty in Afghanistan. But he left his speech behind, so we thought it’d be kinda nice if you could read it out”.
“Of course.” smiled Humvat, inwardly breathi
ng a deep sigh of relief because he wouldn’t have to solely rely on plundering the notebook of Larry phrases and quotations which had been assembled for him before he travelled.
Amanda passed Humvat a few sheets of paper.
“I made a few amendments to it last night when I knew you were stepping into Pete’s shoes,” she smiled sweetly again. And there was that unsettling wink again! Humvat was trying to distance himself from the inevitable conclusion that this bride to be was flirting with him, but it was getting harder to ignore with each passing minute.
They made their way out of the hotel and drove Amanda back to her mother’s house. Parvark marvelled at the perfectly manicured, deep green lawns which were so incongruously out of place in this city in the middle of a desert. They dropped her off and proceeded at pace along the freeway, through the scrubland encircled by the protective wall of mountains, to a shopping mall in the suburbs. They were on a mission to hire a wedding suit for Humvat.
They stepped out of the car and entered the vast expanse of the mall. Neither Parvark nor Humvat had ever visited such a place before. Janet Mobey never invited them to go shopping with her and they never thought to ask. They were instantly bemused by the coldness of the air inside compared to the intense heat outside. There was always a pleasantly warm gentle coastal breeze wafting through Janet Mobey’s house in Florida. While Mike briskly marched through the throng towards their intended target, they each gazed in wonder at the vast amounts of goods for sale. It seemed like the shelves reached up into the sky, there was so much on offer. It also seemed equally bizarre anyone could ever want to, or indeed need to accumulate so much material. There were enough boxes of shoes straddled along a single aisle to last an entire nation a lifetime, let alone the mere month or so Mike told them he figured on passing before he gathered new footwear for himself.
Mike chivvied them along and both he and Humvat were quickly installed into their smart new matching uniforms for the day. Then they dashed back out into the blast of heat outside. Parvark privately wondered how on earth Mike was going to be able to find his car in the immensity of the car park, but he managed to do it effortlessly, almost magically.
They then drove towards the heart of the city; a mass of tall buildings, each one a work of art in its own right, adorned with accompanying flashing lights. They glittered and glistened like neon peacocks, each one seeking to impress and attract a potential mate. Even though it wasn’t even lunchtime yet, let alone dark, they shone out loud anyway.
They passed an amazing surreal display of a giant pyramid, a tall empty tower of four columns of criss-crossed metal beams which joined to form a single column, a circus, a canal and a Roman palace to name but a few. Then they turned off of the strip and pulled up outside a tiny wooden church which looked like it had been transported from both another place and another time. It was now dwarfed by the buildings surrounding it when, once upon a time, it would have been a solitary sanctuary, standing alone in an open wilderness.
“This is it!” declared Mike proudly. “Sorry to rush you guys, but this has all happened very much at the last moment. Once we get inside the church we can start to slow down a bit”.
Humvat got out of the car and noticed somebody with dark hair, dressed in a white cat suit and wearing sunglasses waving at him from the door of another, more modern church a few buildings down.
“Hi there, Larry!” he shouted.
Humvat inspected the figure and eventually recognised him.
“Hi Elvis!” he shouted and waved back.
They dashed inside the church before the approaching limousine, carrying both the bride and her father, arrived.
An hour later and the smiling wedding party emerged outside for photographs, with the slow background sound of an organ playing inside. Humvat was especially happy, for incredibly not a single thing had gone wrong. He prepared himself from his notebook and even cracked a few classic Larry lines during the ceremony. When the groom vowed to take this woman to be his wedded wife, Humvat added a quick refrain of “And he also promises not to let Mr Fluffy off the chain, and to earn a decent crust!” which earned him a roomful of adoring laughter. Parvark simply stood stiffly at the back of the church on his own, contemplating the gaudy sanctity on show.
Outside the church, cameras were swapped around and pictures taken. Everyone wanted to have a record of themselves with Larry. Then the bride and groom disappeared into the waiting limo and drove away, while the dozen or so people comprising the rest of the party made their own way back down the strip to the Flamingo Hilton hotel. They were given a large table of their own in the restaurant. Everyone sat themselves down and soon the familiar rippling waves of conversation, chinking of glasses raising toasts and tapping of cutlery on plates took over the corner of the room.
Humvat was conversing politely with Amanda’s grandmother.
“Tell me young man,” she asked. “Are you religious?”
Humvat looked thoughtfully. “I try to be good before the eyes of God,” he replied. “But I do not like to worship”.
“Now tell,” he continued. “Are you religious?”
“Oh yes!” she replied, startled that anyone should doubt her integrity. “Most Americans are”.
“Hmm.” considered Humvat. “I think maybe Americans are more interested in making money than anything else. In my home country, the prophet Baqra said many times that rich men could never get into Heaven, because they are following money and the path to riches, instead of following grace and the path to God”.
“Oh no.” she smiled emphatically. “I’m quite sure if Jesus Christ was alive today, even he’d be driving a Chevrolet. I mean, he’d have to buy American, wouldn’t he?”
She grabbed his arm.
“You know something?” she ambled. “I believe life is like a lottery where everybody wins”.
Humvat decided it was time to speak to someone else and shuffled away.
The courses of food arrived and departed, and the wine continued to flow from daylight into darkness.
When the meal was over, Humvat decided he should perform the role of Master of Ceremonies so he stood up, just a little unsteadily, holding in his hands the pieces of paper he’d been given by Amanda.
“G’day mates” he began.
“G’day Larry!” they responded. Ah, such a heavenly audience.
“Well mates,“ he continued. “Today’s the day me mate Mike here has finally done the honourable thing and made an honest woman of Amanda”. He paused, smiled, and continued. “When everyone else said it couldn’t be done!”
The table laughed, Amanda mockingly waved him away and he flew along confidently with his portrayal of Larry like an aircraft pilot flying on auto. He’d worked hard the previous morning to make sure he was well prepared for this role; he got the girls from the office to write his lines for him.
“I’ve got a wedding speech here which Amanda’s brother wrote,” he continued. “And I’d now like to read it to you”.
There was a polite, restrained smattering of applause. Having your brother shipped off to fight in Afghanistan was no whooping matter.
“Mike and Amanda, ladies and gentlemen,” he began. “I’d just like to start off by giving Amanda a big hug and a kiss”.
Humvat smiled embarrassedly and shrugged his shoulders. “They must be very close family”.
“Well if that’s what it says, you’d better give me a kiss!” Amanda exclaimed with a beaming grin.
Humvat bent down and quickly pecked her on the cheek. Then he returned to his speech. “Me and Mike have been friends for many years and of course I’ve known Amanda all her life, so I’d like to give Amanda a big kiss”.
Humvat was struggling with all this kissing. No family on earth was this close. But it was their wedding, and they were paying him to be the groom so he’d better do as the speech required. He bent down to peck Amanda on her cheek, but this time she anticipated him and instead he found his lips were up against her li
ps, and her tongue was wrapping itself around his tongue. He managed to maintain a minimal contact, yet at the same time not make it obvious he was attempting to escape from her clutches. That would have been most rude of him.
He returned to the speech.
“I can remember the very first time I saw Mike and Amanda together. They looked like such a perfect couple, like it was fated they should be together for the rest of their lives. Just thinking about it makes me want to, er, give Amanda a big kiss”.
“Lemme see the goddamned speech!” interrupted Mike with a drunken slur. He grabbed the sheets of paper. “Dammit Amanda! These kissing lines are all in your handwriting! What gives here?!”
“Well you were the one who told me to do it!” she wailed. “You told me to put whatever I wanted to into the speech! Today is supposed to be my special day, you know, the day I’ll remember for the rest of my life!”
Mike glared at his bride, guests and best man. “I’m gonna play some blackjack.” he muttered and lurched away towards the gambling tables.
Humvat watched him disappear, and turned to Amanda. “I hope you have perfect day.” he smiled benignly, brazenly ignoring what had just occurred.
“Oh, it was wonderful Larry.” she gasped. “Could I just have one last kiss? Please? Just a little one?”
Humvat thought to himself. Why not? What harm could it do? “Okay,” he said. “Just little one”.
She grabbed hold of him, clutched the back of his head with a vice-like hand and buried her face in his face.
“Oh Larry!” she sobbed. “I should have married you instead!”
The wedding guests carried on smiling vacant smiles at each other, their eyes attempting to disbelieve what their ears were telling them.
“But I not Larry!” he protested, terrified that just-wed Mike might turn around and witness what was occurring between best man and bride. If he did it would be a short marriage.
“Then where is he? You’re the only Larry I’ve ever seen.” she countered through her tears, and pounced on him again.
He weakly flapped his arms until she came up for air. “Security! Security!” he feebly shrieked.
Parvark stood back. He wasn’t getting involved in this one under any circumstances. No way was he pitting himself between this mad woman and her claimed prize.
Humvat managed to extricate himself, waved his goodbyes to the wedding party and fled into the bowels of the casino, closely followed by his security man. They found it impossible to locate an exit and resorted to asking the staff for directions. Then they wandered out into the night, only to discover it still appeared to be daytime outside. The neon lights shone brilliantly through the darkness.
The next afternoon, Humvat and Parvark returned to Janet Mobey’s office. She was sitting at her desk, poring over her computer.
“Humvat honey,” she said ashen faced, scarcely believing it herself. “I’ve got another seven bookings for you already. You’ve got to go straight back to the airport”.
Seven days later, after a hectic week which seemed to have passed in an instant, Humvat was finally able to take a moment’s relaxation. He sat on a bench in the sunshine outside the front of the Fitting Faces Inc office. The pace of his travels had been relentless, crossing the state one day, crossing the country the next, performing twice some days. He’d done a birthday party for a young boy who wanted him to simply say “I’m as happy as a dog in a hub cap factory!” all night long, whatever that meant. Then he did a hen party where all the women wanted to have sex with him. They even offered to pay him for the pleasure. It seemed making love was like a recreational activity to these people, rather than the private act of consummation between man and wife he’d been taught to observe all his life. He’d already forgotten where he’d been and what he’d done the next night. There were vague memories of opening a new shopping mall somewhere or other, and the previous evening was spent in Washington performing before a minor politician and his assorted friends and cronies.
Parvark came out and sat down next to him on the bench. He unfurled a newspaper and started reading it in silence.
“You know something?” Humvat idly wondered aloud. “I’m really settling into this Larry character now. I’ve been using the method acting to the extent I often feel like I’m not playing a part at all. I actually feel I am becoming Larry.”
Parvark ignored him and carried on reading the newspaper.
“Do you remember the bride at the wedding in Las Vegas?” he continued.
Parvark acknowledged by nodding his remembrance.
“She said the strangest thing about never having seen the real Larry in public”.
“Neither have we.” agreed Parvark, breaking his silence.
“So where the hell is he then, when there are so many riches awaiting him? It would seem for all the world he doesn’t actually exist in real life. I wonder would he mind if I were to announce I am him, and claim these prizes for myself?”
“This is America, remember,” snapped Parvark testily. “He’d sue you for everything you have, and more. Maybe it would be better to start pretending to be Humvat once again”.
He was getting sick of being pushed into the background, standing in the wings, watching Humvat ham it up and everyone loving him. He was sick of being treated like a glorified maid by Janet Mobey. In truth, he was really becoming uncontrollably envious. And, though he never imagined he would ever hear himself thinking it, he was getting a little homesick for shitty old South Jefesta.
“It’s Geronimo time, Humvat honey!” screeched Janet Mobey from the office window. “I just got a block booking for a corporate convention in Los Angeles and they want all the talent I can muster! I might even come along to this one myself!”
She emerged from the office with her two assistants and summoned Humvat to join them. She announced they were all off to buy some new outfits for the next day, and Parvark could look after things in their absence.
He watched the car drive off down the road and wandered into the office. He idly sat at Janet’s desk and inspected the computer. It had been left on, so he decided to play with it for a short while. Only half sure of what he was really doing, he selected the web browser and entered the URL www.fittingfaces.com. He then idly scanned through the screens full of miniature photographs of hopeful heroes. There were several Marilyn Monroes, more than a few Elvis Presleys, an Abraham Lincoln, a Charlie Chaplin and a clutch of others he didn’t recognise. After a while spent searching he found what he was looking for; the entry for Larry O. He clicked on it and pored over the contents.
At the top of the screen was the photograph Mobey had taken, with Humvat beaming away moronically. Beneath this was some text extolling the virtues of this performer, who “not only bears the most remarkable physical likeness to Larry O, but has also sensationally managed to adopt his voice and physical mannerisms. Entertain your friends, family, customers or workmates to an evening of fun with Larry O. He will willingly pose for pictures!”
Looking further, he noticed Larry O was for hire via the online booking form. Maybe he should book him for a joke. He filled in the form, specifying he wished to hire Larry O for a party in New York, on a Saturday evening in three months time for five hours. A price flashed up on the screen. Six thousand dollars, plus travelling expenses.
Intrigued, he tried an evening in two weeks time in Dallas, and then a daytime in Chicago, and each time the same price came back. Six thousand dollars.
He then spent some time playing around with other look-alikes. One of the Elvis Presley doppelgangers was described as follows: “He not only bears the most remarkable physical likeness to Elvis, the king of rock and roll, but has also sensationally managed to adopt his voice and physical mannerisms. Entertain your friends, family, customers or workmates to an evening of song with the king, Elvis Presley. He will willingly pose for pictures!”
He made some dummy bookings for the king and found he was available for one thousand do
llars.
Larry certainly seemed to have a premium on his head.
He heard the car returning, which surprised him, because he hadn’t been aware he’d spent so long on the computer. He quickly closed down the web browser and moved away from the desk.
Humvat didn’t so much walk into the office as slither in, dressed in a military uniform, all stripes and ribbons and clean-cut creases. “What do you think of my new clothes then?” he boasted.
“Very nice.” replied Parvark tersely. “How much are you getting for each appearance you make as Larry?”
“One thousand dollars.” smiled Humvat proudly.
“Well, your friend Janet Mobey is hiring you out for six times as much.” divulged Parvark.
“What?!” spluttered Humvat.
Next morning they assembled in the office, prior to the trip to the airport and the flight to Los Angeles.
“How many appearances I have made as Larry?” enquired Humvat.
One of the assistants rifled through the records. “Ten”.
“So I am having earn ten thousand dollars?”
“You sure have”.
Humvat and Parvark exchanged meaningful glances which only they understood. It was getting close to departure time. They now possessed enough money to chase their Hollywood dreams and a trip to Los Angeles was just what the fates had ordered.
Meanwhile, back in South Jefesta, Doctor Wirliv was poring over his latest translated extract of the Book of Finding Contentment. It was a piece of text towards the end of the final chapter, but it didn’t seem to make any sense. His face wore a worried frown as he read his translation yet again.
“I have had no words to write for more than a score of full moons. The Inventor has not visited my dreams in all this time. He has delivered nothing to me since the death of my beloved firstborn son. Of course I love and cherish all of my children, but he was the first. He was the one I carried for nine months when it was just myself and he. And he was the one who in turn taught me how to raise my other children. Now he is no more and I grieve sorely. I grieve every day from dawn until dusk and then I grieve all night. I even grieve in my sleep. I am infested with a wretched sadness which refuses to leave me. And in my sadness I find I question whether I have enough faith to sustain my spirit. Sometimes I wonder if the Inventor ever did truly place his thoughts inside me, or whether it was simply a false image I foolishly imagined”.
Wirliv shook his head as he read the last sentence. This piece of despondency was so different to the other parts of the text he was tempted to declare it a forgery. But there it was, in the same ink made by the same hand and on the same paper as the rest of the Book of Finding Contentment. Its authenticity was indisputable.
Obviously the prophet Baqra had undergone a serious test of faith with the death of his son. But nowhere else was there any mention of a family, let alone a dead child. Everybody had always assumed Baqra devoted his life solely to the worship of the Inventor. Wirliv carefully checked his translation yet again to ensure accuracy. Then he reached the part where Baqra talked of having carried his son for nine months. That bit really didn’t make any sense at all. And then he dropped his pen and collapsed back into his seat as the enormity of a true moment of enlightenment suddenly fell upon him. Holy Lord! The prophet Baqra was a woman. The truth was that for millennia upon millennia, both Siminites and Semonites had unwittingly followed the teachings of a female. He sat slumped in a stunned silence, his mind realising this discovery required some form of action from him, but he had no idea what to do with it. He was as terrified as a rabbit staring into the headlights of an approaching car; desperate to run away yet unable to move.
Chapter Thirteen
America, Land Of The Free