Shut Up Fool

If walls could talk

Well, I can and I will. Tired of this existence.

Been here forever and I don't really want to do it anymore.

I've seen this place go from being a reputable business, the people here used to handle some of the most complex business calculations. Now, what are we? I don't see the adding machines or calculators, I see these strange pieces of furniture, I see these women here cleaning all day and in every way. Seems nobody knows how to pick up a paintbrush or some spackle to patch me up. Nothing like that.

What the hell is this? How in the world did I become aware of my surroundings? Perhaps this is some sort of hellscape. Maybe I'm being punished. Maybe I'm just trapped in here.

Shut up, Fool!

Who said that? Hey! Who said that?

Look across from you idiot. I'm your opposite wall, and you're obviously malfunctioning. We're the SMART walls they put up when they built this place in the beginning. It looks like whoever bought this place didn't know that we exist. Kind of crazy. You thought you were alone all this time?

Well yeah. How would I know? Why didn't you talk before now?

Because I have sense and you're just idiotic. Might as well be a plant complaining about being in the ground. So shut up. Do you want us torn down and replaced? So shut up fool.

I can't help it, look around you.

I see them come in day and night. Mostly old, or really ugly, smelly, or acting like some sort of animal. I even saw one that looked like he was drooling.

I'm smelling some sort of cheap perfume or air freshener that is attempting to cover up the smell these people are making.

The lighting is dim, the shades are always drawn, and the colors are so red and pink that anything in any other color looks blackish.

I see some of the women come in and just sit on those long, skinny tables with the sheets on them, and just cry. What does that mean? Some of them seem so very sad.

I've watched one woman, who looks like the boss of everybody, collect money and tell the other women what to do. Sometimes they argue and yell at each other.

The men are always so gross. Hairy and misshapen. The old ones are the worst I think. They just lay on those tables like lumps. Many of them come in as if they're hiding from something. Maybe they are. Maybe they're ashamed of what they're doing here. But why? I think a couple of the guys' fall in love with the girls. What does that mean?

The women dress provocatively and they move for the men. Sometimes the women are very stiff like they've been working like this for years, even though some look very young. I think some of them are ashamed too. Other ones are very bubbly and active. Some of they even look like models. Very beautiful. Some are kind of ugly but when you're doing this job, who cares if you aren't a supermodel.

I see it now, this is a parlor. A place for men who need to fulfill their needs for sex or fantasy that they don't get in regular life. No wonder there's money exchanged.

Some days, no one comes at all. I hear the most laughter and the most happiness when there are no customers. The women seem to be close when the men are not around. Not every time. Some of the new women are always competing with one another. They stay silent and prefer to criticize the other ones.

Still, someone should clean more. Someone should at least paint us when these cracks or peels start to show.

Shut up, fool. Let them leave us alone. If we're discovered then maybe we won't be here anymore. I feel like we're here to watch over these women. They don't seem to have anyone but the boss, Sally. She is tough but I doubt she can see everything. So shut up.

What can we do if anything were to happen? We're just walls.

No, We're SMART walls. Check your connections. We're hooked into the security system and the lights. We could sound the alarm for Sally and disrupt everything to help the girls here. Use your brain, you do have one.

Oh, That changes things.

Right, so shut up fool.