Later that day Seph and Mitch ate at a place called Grande Burrito Place and each asked for an application. Unfortunately the restaurant was only looking to hire people with managerial experience so Seph and Mitch were back to being hopeless until they remembered Blair suggested the museum in North Town.
The half-brothers then took the bus, allowing Seph to note it was filled with a bunch of people who never considered themselves environmentalists. Shortly after getting off the bus, Seph noticed a homeless man being harassed by street punks across the street. If Seph had to walk by them he might have said something but they were all the way across the street.
It was a cost-benefit analysis really. Worst thing that could happen: he gets everybody stabbed. Best thing that could happen: The punks leave and some smelly homeless guy thanks him. Sure Seph realized that a news helicopter just might be flying overhead and just might randomly catch him on camera saving the homeless man from harassment (as no one’s life seemed to be in danger) and thus propel him back in the proverbial spotlight, but that all seemed rather unlikely.
Mitch, after getting off the bus, heard a car’s engine fire up and race down a street but he didn’t see the actual car. It reminded him that Pax had his car stolen some time last year. Pax was just at work one day and came outside and his shitty car was missing. And it was a shitty car. Two windows didn’t roll down and the other two didn’t roll up. The seats were more duct tape than the original leather and both bumpers had been bumped off. Also, the muffler was blown to hell so Pax sometimes could actually hear his car being driven around town. Pax always said that was the worst part of it all.
Had Seph cared, or Mitch noticed, they would have known the daylight rabble was unusual in a couple of regards. Across from the museum were two competing sandwich shops. One was called “Big Sandwich”; nobody knew the name of the other shop and thus never ate there. Weirder though, the homeless man being shoved around and mocked was named Todd the Wizard. People called him “the Wizard” because he said he was a wizard and people called him “Todd” because calling him “Steve” would have just been ridiculous.
Now even though the street punks weren’t that well read on wizardry, they were pretty sure a wizard could make a car appear for them. They’d usually steal a car but business had been bad lately as more and more cars were owned by thieves now and car jackers were notoriously difficult to car jack. So these punks needed Todd the Wizard to just make a car appear. But whether or not he could was overshadowed by the fact that he wouldn’t.
As Todd the Wizard failed to appease his skeptics, his skeptics became increasingly belligerent. They stopped referring to the wizard with their original reverence and began sneering the word “wizard.” When Todd the Wizard eventually fell to the ground the would-be thieves walked away, feeling their point was made. Though Todd the Wizard never understand what that point was, he was thankful they hadn’t broken his cardboard tube staff.
Mitch threw away his roach and joined Seph at the top of the front steps to the large museum building. Seph looked past Mitch and was glad to see the homeless man had finally been left alone. Seph shivered when the homeless man looked back at him; there was something familiar in the man’s expression. Indeed the expression was within the realm of Seph’s expertise--Todd was calculating. On the ground and across the street, Todd the Wizard brewed. Whether or not those boys (Seph and Mitch) broke a law was irrelevant, thought the wizard. Punishing both the street punks and the passerby’s would be just. This meant he had to concoct two plans to get revenge and make history.
Inside the museum, Seph noticed first that he and Mitch were alone. There was nobody in eyesight or earshot. There were no helpful signs posted or distant footsteps. Mitch meanwhile noticed that the place seemed bigger inside than it looked outside. Seph walked over to the front desk but saw that nobody was sitting on the other side. “Marco?” Mitch cried out. Polo, was the response behind him.
Of course “Polo” wasn’t the name of the responder. The name was Snow and she introduced herself as the museum supervisor. She has accidentally snuck up on Mitch and, more surprisingly, Seph thanks to mis-placing her shoes earlier that week. Somewhere in her forties, the bare-foot woman named Snow was a frustrated remnant of a time even she couldn’t remember. Ten years ago Snow had woken up from a drug trip in a museum with an employee nametag on and decided to keep working there. Over the years she grew to hate history but kept working at a museum nobody cared about. Apparently her professional indifference was commendable, or punishable, because then she was put in charge of a different, though newer, museum nobody cared about. However, to dodge some tax problems, she had to hire for two new part-time positions. Flash forward to now and Snow asked Seph and Mitch to explain what they’d be like as employees.
Seph said he’s got a master’s in English Literature but doesn’t want the pressure that goes along with teaching--the obvious career path. He sincerely wanted to work at the museum but mostly as a day job until he got another shot at fame, fortune and influence. Snow gawked at Seph’s audacity but sympathized with it, too.
Mitch said that his own education was mostly from life-experience and felt that people in everyday life teach him more than any classroom ever did. Mitch admitted that he lies sometimes but would tell the truth to Snow. He proved this by admitted he was high and would probably be high for some of his shifts, if hired. Also, he knew some magic tricks.
Snow didn’t have to think for long. Both guys were hired. Seph would stay at the front desk and let people in. Mitch would do light cleaning around the museum and be an occasional tour guide for the new President Exhibit. Mitch immediately asked if he’d have to learn up on history but Snow said she didn’t care and led both guys around the place.
In the President Exhibit, Snow showed the guys the wax models of twelve U.S. Presidents as if she were showing them a pile of old newspapers. Wax models, wondered Mitch out loud.
-Yeah. Like real politicians, they’re just dummies. You can use that joke, by the way.
-Do I have to?
-No.
Why only twelve presidents, asked Seph. That’s like only half of them, Mitch also pointed out. Snow explained that the museum isn’t one of those fancy Hollywood museums, they work with what they can afford. And frankly even the twelve cheapest models were too expensive as their price tag was more than “worthless.” How much more? Ten thousand dollars more. Snow said she hadn’t bothered to put the life-size presidents in any kind of order, so Seph and Mitch could spend their first day figuring out who is who and putting the twelve information plaques by the right president. The tours start next Tuesday, she said. Right after Memorial Day. That’ll be your first day.
-Can we accept tips, asked Mitch. Maybe even give high rollers a little extra history?
-I don’t care, said Snow. But minimum wage should be enough for you.
-One question.
-What?
-Why doesn’t the Washington Monument look like anything?
-Mitch, I don’t want to learn about these presidents, so you better or you’re fired.
-Okay.
Seph looked at the packet of information. He didn’t know what Mitch and himself were doing for their three-day weekend, but it was not going to consist of learning the difference between John Quincy Adams, John Tyler, James Polk, Franklin Pierce, James Buchanan, Andrew Johnson, Rutherford B. Hayes, Chester A. Arthur, Benjamin Harrison, William McKinely, Warren G. Harding and Calvin Coolidge.
No, Seph and Mitch were employed now, which meant their days of doing nothing were completely justified. Mitch suggested they go back to playing foot-bag, his new favorite hobby. Seph said he play foot-bag with Mitch later that weekend, but now he just wanted to enjoy a much-deserved drink.
-Well I’ll keep the foot-bag in my pocket, in case you change your mind.
Seph wouldn’t.
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