-This is So Cal weather, man.
-Mitch, have you ever been to southern California?
-No, but I hear the weather is like this.
It was the next day and Seph and Mitch decided to change up their daily habit and do nothing outside, under a heat-lamp sun. “Doing nothing” this day consisted of trying to play foot-bag and discussing the moral ambiguity of Ewoks from Star Wars: Episode Six: Return of the Jedi.
Before Mitch was awake, Seph went to a local television station to offer an on-air response to Senator Stonewater’s comments on the viral video. At first Tracy Swift, the news director, didn’t know who Seph was but an assistant reminded her about “Fire, Shasta and a Dog Sneeze.” Tracy said that if the senator would appear on the morning news show with Seph she’d be interested. But Seph couldn’t make the promise and was left alone. This all happened in less than thirty seconds as the wired Tracy had a blood-coffee content of point-oh-nine.
Seph explained to Mitch that he then went personally to the senator’s office but never got passed the first level of assistants. Holding a one-on-one conference with an U.S. senator became more work than it was worth. This whole story took a while to tell as Seph and Mitch couldn’t kick the small bag back and forth more than once.
-Aw, come on.
-That was close.
-Kick it softer.
-Sorry. Distracted. Blair’s here.
-Cool.
-Say, Mitch, play along in a few minutes.
-With what?
-I think Blair was angry with me last night so I need to show I was right.
-So you’re going to lie?
-Yes.
-Have you ever lied to impress me?
-No.
-Why not?
-Shut up, Mitch.
Blair parked in the road and walked across the small front yard to Seph and Mitch. She had her SLR camera dangling around her neck as a half-hearted reminder to finish a photography project. Collaterally, it was also a reminder to everybody else that she liked taking pictures. She observed the guys were playing hacky sack but somehow put it in the form of a question. No, Mitch corrected (a rare occasion), we are playing foot-bag. Hacky Sack is a trademarked brand name and this is a generic brand foot-bag. The actual sport is called foot-bag. Or foot-bagging.
-Foot-bag? Blair squinted in suspicion.
-Yes.
-Who are you, Abbie Hoffman? Seph, how did your senator thing go?
Mitch took sole possession of the foot-bag and tried to roll the pellet-filled sack on to his right foot with his left foot. He eventually got it to balance and then jutted his foot up, launching the bag about waist high. He then tried to hit the falling bag with the side of his left foot but kicked nothing but air. Though the juggling wasn’t successful, Mitch sensed he was getting closer. In another couple of hours, or days, he’d be a boss at it. Chicks dig foot-bags.
Meanwhile, Seph told Blair about going to the senator’s office because the assistants weren’t much help on the phone. When Seph was there he demanded an audience with the senator.
-You demanded an audience with the senator?
-Hell yes, Seph confirmed. I said, my tax dollars pay his salary and he slandered my name. I said I was going to take him to court if he didn’t see me.
-Whatever.
-I did.
-Whatever.
Seph turned away from Blair, bluffing that he didn’t want to tell the story. Blair, suspecting he was bluffing, decided to not call him on it, but rather do the polite thing.
-So, Seph? What happened?
-That was really it.
-Wait, interrupted Mitch--who was only partially listening. Tell Blair about the security guards.
-Security guards? Seph questioned with slight trepidation.
-Security guards? Blair questioned with some concern.
-Yeah, tell her, Mitch teased.
So Seph went on to clumsily continue the narrative lie. He told Blair that security guards, two former linebackers probably, grabbed him by each arm and led him back outside but just then Stonewater walked into the lobby and stopped them--likely because Seph was close to knocking both guys over. Stonewater listened to Seph’s complaints right there in the lobby and immediately offered an apology. He then said he had too much legislative work to appear on TV this week but hoped the group of friends would continue entertaining the online community. Also, he said he didn’t want Seph to tell this story to anybody as it made his office look bad.
-So you broke your promise?
-Well, yeah, but he’s a politician. I’m sure he’d understand.
-Right. Well that’s good for you, Seph. You should be proud of yourself.
-I was hoping I’m not alone in that.
-Okay.
Blair, purposefully, turned her feet to face Mitch.
Seph waited a couple of beats for Blair to say something else. She didn’t. He then turned to Mitch and indicated he was ready to juggle the foot-bag. Mitch kicked the bag to Seph just a little too hard and hit Seph in the neck rather than the foot. Seph picked up the bag and dropped it right in front of himself and got it to bounce of his foot, but go nowhere. Blair watched for a little while, unimpressed by the lack of coordination displayed. Was this all they planned on doing today? Of course not. They were also going to probably watch Star Wars. Correctly assuming that was the only invitation to join them she was going to get, Blair admitted that she didn’t care for futuristic, sci-fi type movies.
-It’s not futuristic, Mitch pointed out.
-Doesn’t it have spaceships and robots and lasers and stuff?
-It takes place a long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away!
-Dammit Mitch.
-He’s right, you know, inserted Seph.
-I know, I just don’t care, said Blair.
Blair lifted her camera to the guys, who cared as little about their picture as they did a hundred pictures ago. She had them both in frame and focused, but paused. These two weren’t just her friends anymore; they were cultural icons. Or at least were last night. Did that add anything to the picture? Did that take away anything? What’s separating her from the non-existent paparazzi?
-It’s like paparazzi, Mitch said out loud to no one.
At that, Blair put down the camera.
-If I’m paparazzi, you’re Jeff Timmons.
-I don’t know who that is.
-Mitch.
-Oh. Now I get it.
-You’re not famous.
-Oh, now I really get it.
-What did you think I meant?
-I don’t know. That I was getting doughy or something.
Blair sighed to escape this mind-numbing conversation. She wondered where Lily was today, then had a stranger thought. Perhaps some stranger somewhere is wondering where Lily is today, or anybody from the video. The gang was now a collection of former celebrities. They could appear on some online version of “Where Are They Now?” What an odd question; they’re right here. Still, they’re history now. A part of history. And when are Mitch and Seph going to get a job? They said they’d go looking for potential employers later that day but that probably meant little more than asking for an application at wherever they would decide to eat lunch.
Why not try working at the new history museum, Blair suggested to the guys. But Mitch was confused. What’s new history?
-The history’s not the new, the museum is new.
-Sounds weird.
-It’s a museum. And my boss said they’re hiring over there.
-Where is it?
-North Town.
They built a museum over there? Seph couldn’t believe it. Blair hypothesized that the real estate was cheap, which Seph immediately agreed with. Most war zones have incredibly cheap land. You don’t carry a gun for protection over there, you carry one to blend in. Like more and more usual, Blair disagreed with Seph’s pessimism. The neighborhood wasn’t that bad. Besides, a new museum could change all that.
Before the museum, all that was over there was a homeless shelter and an abandoned grade school--both of which housed wandering vagrants more nights than not. And as for permanent residents in the neighborhood, there were two kinds of people: previously locked up car-jackers and soon-to-be locked up car-jackers.
-You know, I could steal a car, pointed out Mitch.
-Yeah, if someone gave you the keys.
-No, I took that car shop with Pax in high school.
High school. There’s something Blair hadn’t remembered in a while, Seph didn’t want to remember and, usually, Mitch couldn’t remember.
At this, Blair became disinterested in trying to separate earnest concerns and pitiful complaining, so she left. Blair couldn’t understand how Seph and Mitch survived. She had held down a job for some time and still found herself fighting off credit car debt with a whip and chair; whereas Seph and Mitch were becoming “foot-bag” masters more days of the week than looking for work. Seph always had this air of confidence that someday he would become rich and famous, which Blair didn’t mind until today, wherein that day might have just passed by.
In actuality, Seph was panicking about the missed opportunity that was the YouTube video but didn’t want Blair to think he was obsessed with fame or influence. When Seph left Emmit’s duplex that breakout night, the video had nearly 40 million views. When he left the television station the next morning, it didn’t matter. Nobody cared what Seph thought that day who didn’t care the previous day. Seph understood how people could see him as egotistical, but he believed that it was criminal to withhold new ideas, insight and perspective from the world. Then Mitch interrupted.
-You think we were really ever that famous?
-Forty millions views is quite a bit, Mitch.
-Yeah, but what if it was just like one guy who watched the video forty million times?
-That doesn’t seem too likely.
-I guess. Makes you think, though, right?
-Sure.
Seph kicked the sack to Mitch, who hit it with his thigh, then his foot but got it nowhere close to Seph again.
-Hey, Seph.
-Yeah?
-You ever think we might have stayed in this city just a day too long?
-What do you mean?
-I don’t know. Nevermind.
Seph consented but wouldn’t forget what Mitch said. Blocks away by now, Blair told herself to accept the fact that she couldn’t make the boys do anything, they would just have to follow their own stories.
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