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I Have A Lot Of Ideas, But...
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TITLE (EDIT)
I Have A Lot Of Ideas, But...
DESCRIPTION
I have a lot of ideas, but each time I try to transform them in a story, exactly when I start to be inside them, beginning to enjoy myself, something strange happens: I can’t go on and I don’t know why…
[1,430 words]
TITLE KEYWORD
Horror
AUTHOR
John Pirandello
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hi, my name is John and I live in Waterville, Maine (US). I come from Italy and I am Luigi Pirandello heir.
Who’s this man? Pirandello* was a wonderful Italian writer of ‘900 and one of the most important of the century, all over the world.
And I whish to follow his steps…

[April 2007]
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL ADDRESS
john.pirandello@yahoo.com
I Have A Lot Of Ideas, But...
John Pirandello




I need help.
I have a lot of ideas, but each time I try to transform them in a story, exactly when I start to be inside them, beginning to enjoy myself, something strange happens: I can’t go on and I don’t know why…
However, I have a lot of ideas!
Like this one… 
A man waked up in the morning, he went to the bathroom and, watching his face on the mirror, he is very surprised: two mouths instead of eyes, one eye as a substitute for mouth, one ear as an alternative for nose and two noses instead of ears.
Jeff, the thirteenth of May, didn’t believe in what his eyes showed him, sorry, just his remaining eye did… 
Dream? Nightmare? A worse thing?! For example, he was affected by a psychotic crisis?
He instinctively touched his face, to demonstrate what mirror was saying and his fingers found same reality: a monster, he became an horrible monster.    
Jeff was all the morning prisoner of panic and dreadful anguishes. He occasionally took a look to the mirror, vainly wishing to see again his old face, not so beautiful, but normal, with things at the right place. It was a waste of time, that revolting mask was ever there, waiting for him, on the reflected figure. Suddenly the phone ringed four times, even if it wasn’t able to save him by his new trouble, the most difficult of his life. However, after the fourth one, a known voice kidnapped him from this tragic and incredible drama: “Jeff? Are you there? Alarm clock doesn’t work? I tried to cellular too… Call me, remember that we have a meeting at noon…”
Lana.
It was impossible for Jeff to be distracted when she was talking to him, even if her voice had come up from an innocent answer phone. “The meeting… shit!” he thought. “The meeting!”
The incubuses became two. Jeff was waiting that chance since ten years. He finally succeeded to convince Mrs. Lana Mortensen, the chief, to promote his ideas. It was a paradox, if you think that the inspiration, which was able to persuade the Dreams Seller Agency’s boss, came up when Jeff was in the bathroom, shaving his face, watching it on mirror, exactly where that absurd transformation started.
“Fuck! Not today…” it was his second thought… or better still, it wasn’t a thought, because he loudly said those words, with two mouths, using two tongues, thanks to a double voice. In short, as a stereo. Do you believe? It wasn’t so bad. “Oh my God…” he said. “I have a future as a radio speaker! No, as a deejay! Ladies and gentlemen, I present you M-DJ, the first monster deejay…”
Joking was a good thing, for Jeff. It was helping him to be rational, freeing him by the shock. He must not loose the meeting, the meeting with Japanese managers. He had to go to the summit. “The monster in the mirror must be a secondary problem”, he thought. So, forbidding his only eye to watch mirrors or windows, usually reflecting things, he start to walk in the house, to better think, and a simple insight was born: dark and large sunglasses to cover the two mouths, a big hat to hide noses - instead of ears - and, what a genius mind, a typical with holes mask over his ear and eye - presumed nose and mouth… - because of his pollen allergy. Allergic reaction that caused tears and this was the reason why he should had to conserve the sunglasses during the meeting too.
However, what about the hat? He couldn’t come in the Chevalier, famous and elegant Manhattan restaurant, with a great hat on head…
Yes, but Jeff Brown, the monster, could! He was a creative, a kind of artist, and you know, artists are ever eccentric.
By the way, if Japanese clients would have appreciated his idea… who might be able to criticize his look? So, with these thoughts in mind and careful masked, he went out.
Jeff was on time to the convention and the journey was less complex than he might thought. 
At first, while he was on street, some panic caught him, when he meet his most corpulent neighbor, always curious of his life: “Mister Brown”, Miss Miniver said, watching the unexpected sunglasses and hat, standing in front of him, “what happens to you?”
“N-nothing… miss, I have an allergic disease, today…”
He tried to escape.
“It is very irritating, I think…” she said, and, understanding his intentions, she moved incredibly fast to right, blocking him with her shopping bag too.
“Miss Miniver! Kate!” Jeff screamed. “I AM BUSY! I HAVE NOT TIME FOR YOU!” He strongly caught her arm and shifted her to his left. “Have a good time, today!” he said, stopping all conversations and going away.
“B-bye…” the woman said.
Jeff Brown, reaching the subway, was crazy of joy. During last three years, since the time that he purchased his home, he was never be able to run away from Miss Miniver’s investigations. “To be a monster”, he thought, “permits monstrous ways and this may bring some advantages…”
In fact, on subway train, he refused to leave his place to many old people, a blind one too, but he succeeded to enjoy his retired ass without any sense of guilt. 
“I am monster”, Jeff reflected in those moments, “what do you want from me?!”
Just when he arrived to Chevalier, Jeff thought that all people on street, or on train too, totally ignored his masquerade. “New York is really an open minded town…” He said inside his head. “Or, maybe, it is an ideal place to live for people who just take care of their affairs. Who knows? In any case, it seemed to be a perfect town to live, to a monster…”
Entering the deluxe restaurant, Jeff left those thoughts out and, after having told his name, he was accompanied to the reserved table.
Lana was there, proud to show her red lipstick and black stockings. The Japanese managers was on the playground too, ready to  analyze the great American idea.
The oriental clients unnoticed his strange look, they seemed to be as typical New York people, but his fascinating and smart chief began to be worried. However, Jeff was interpreting his role like a classic Stanislavski actor: he was inside the character, feeling like being him.
“Good afternoon to all of you”, he said, “I am very sorry about my clothing. Sincerely, when I woke up, this morning, I had a serious allergy reaction. It is not infectious, be quite. However, I didn’t want to overlook this appointment with you. I respect you. Respect is all for me and I strongly believe in my creation. I am prepared to fight against everything, if people like you are interested to my work.”             
The Japanese men were very impressed by such dedication, conviction and good manners. They recognized in Jeff the old samurais, as Toshiro Mifune, for example.
Mister Ozuka, the team leader, got up and said: “Mister Brown, sit down, please, and tell us about your idea. We’ll listen your words with great attention.”
What else? For the first time in his life, Jeff was explicit and persuasive. Mrs. Mortensen watched a man who explained his projects with upsetting strength, an hypnotizing language and a particularly dominant voice. Thanks to dolby…
Mister Brown, shy mister Brown, an awkward man, the unnecessary employee, that should have been first to fire, became a real shark, free in the dangerous business seas. 
“A monster is stronger than feelings and emotions…” Jeff thought during that extraordinary moment. Briefly, Japanese clients were enthusiastic. They were going to sign the contract, Lana was delighted, the new monster was exulting with his only opened eye under the mask, when the presumed or not allergy reached the table, having been formally invited: a sneeze, an enormous sneeze, an overflowing sneeze, a double sneeze fired from Jeff’s head sides, making inevitably fly his hat. 
“What?!” Mister Ozuka screamed, stopping his pen a millimeter to the contract paper, when mrs. Mortensen’s face became white as a dead.    
Okay, it happened again.
I can’t go on, now. It’s a true tragedy. I desire to know what happens later, if Japanese managers and Lana really saw the two noses. Maybe, Jeff was so fast to hide them again or, on the contrary, how he may escape from that bizarre situation. 
Nothing, an empty space is front of me. 
What can I do? I have a lot of ideas, but…


 

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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2004 John Pirandello
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
April 2007
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
1868
 

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