Step by step I moved towards the shop where my, no doubt phenominal, destiny awaited. Though I wished I could go bound by bound instead. I was so excited. But unlike some rather unscrupulous and undisciplined songwriters I managed to hide it quite well.
I was finally going to start my own website. A place from which my genius could flow to the masses that sorely needed it. A public service, really. For the people! After all, I only expected to become moderately, extremely wealthy off of it. And it would all start here.
I was closing into the store that he’d sent me to. Unlike the peasants and sheep who use services such as Squarespace (get your own account for 5,99 now!) my natural ability to work with my deft hands, which would surely return after my broken finger had healed from the hammer blow I’d sustained while trying to hammer a thumbtack into my wall, would allow me to build my own server. All I’d needed was a little initial advice. I’d been searching for someone qualified for weeks, but all of them very expensive. Little did those fools know who they were dealing with because soon after Lady Luck dropped her skirt for me.
I’d gotten an email from a poor Nigerian prince who, when I inquired about it, happened to also be an expert at advising people on server genesis. What a coincidence, right? After wiring a mere 1.000 dollars to his bank account he directed me to the store in which I would buy my first Apple. Never knew why fruit was so important to this process and why a Nigerian would direct me to a Belgian store, but here I was. The store.
It seemed a bit dusty and empty at first sight but… well, not everyone can have the mind for attention to detail that I do (police reference from Maddy here, potential visual cue). All was going well until suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder and a deep gruff sounding voice boomed in my ears.
“Sir” she said. “I’m with the Belgian police department. We have recently been given some information about the insurance for your business. On your tax form it said you’d given a certain Maddius Maximus as your partner?”
Ah yes, a silly name I had cobbled together based on my vast knowledge of Roman history and linguistics to serve as my non-existent partner. A genius way to reduce my taxes, or so had the beggar on the corner of my former school told me. And he ought to know, he used to be an accountant. Too bad about all those lawsuits he recieved… oh well.
“Sir, are you going to tell me where I can check up on your partner or are you just going to keep staring at me with that smile of self-satisfaction on your face?”
I’d need to act quickly to evade this. I prepared myself mentally. It was time for some of my brilliant conversational strategy. “Look over there!” I yelled as I bolted for the door of the market. Unfortunately, despite my reputation as a star athlete, I tripped over the empty tip cup of a beggar sitting at the market’s door and fell. I can only attest that I wish I’d fallen on my nose instead of my fingers, as its stench quickly overwhelmed me and left me immobile. Its yellow face looking down on me with a toothy grin that could only be described as an abomination against all that was innocent and sacred in the world. Moments later I felt the strong arms of Belgium’s finest take me in a judo grip. The most arousing experience I’ve had since that cat slept on my face.
“Alright, you’re going with me to the office.”
“Wait!” I exclaimed. “I wasn’t trying to flee. I was running towards my partner. To show him to you. This man is Madius! My best friend and co-owner of Analytical Madness!” I quickly put my arm around this sorry excuse for a human being.
“Friend?!” he said excitedly.
“Sir, is this true?”
‘Yes! I have friends! He’s my friend!”
“And you have a professional relationship with this… man?”
“Uhu, we’ve had a relationship for years! I have a friend!”
“Uuuum, yes very good sir. Well, then I guess everything checks out. God give you strength, Mr. Madius. Seriously.”
As soon as the police car had driven away I turned to the creature. “Well, thanks my good buddy.” it would want some sort of reward, surely. My natural inlination was to waste as little as possible on a filthy creature such as this. But, being ever the generous fellow, I took off my sock and put it in his tip cup. Analyze 1, Jesus 0. “Here you go” you patsy. And I mosied on, finally towards the shop. I would never have to deal with this man again and, due to my incredible improvisational talent, my business was safe. I had a moment to revel in my own genius before I felt the glass of the sliding door against my face and everything went black.
To read the related Critique Geeks episode click here.