The Land of Opportunity
For March 16: Day 76/366 of the Story-a-Day Challenge
Ken Eversauff, a broken man in a broken life, sat on an emblematic broken barstool.
“Barkeep! This chair rocks. I need a replacement.”
Eversauff glowered when he didn't respond. He felt himself a man commanding respect, but one quick appraisal told the whole story: this man was cursed with the cosmic decree that legislated his highest achievable status—also-ran, squib, shū- shū, forever someone’s tolerated assistant.
Eversauff knew better.
Standing five-four, 118 lbs, his stature embodied this cosmic decree. Yet, he propped his persona, wearing angularly tailored three-piece suits to belie fecklessness. His thin hair, a gelled, straight style of shiny, dark porcupine needles, was combed, tightly, straight back. The whole package was as a self-appointed β-male peacock.
With mange.
Career-long demotions into career cul-de-sacs spawned an angry little man constantly on the look-out for an underling to suffer his angry little authority. And he was tired of kissing ass in the other direction.
He rocked angrily on his imperfect chair, nursing his drink. Who would change his chair for him? Not him! It was another power struggle of an endless series of power struggles that daily defined his sense of self-worth.
He looked up when a man came in, taking the seat opposite, which sat squarely--successfully--on its four legs. "I waited for you," Eversauff complained.
"Well, here I am."
“Inconsiderate. You could've told me.”
“You should've assumed. Look, I'm here to give you good news."
"The position?"
"Yes."
"It's about damn time," Eversauff grumbled. A different kind of look washed over his visitor--the man who could change his life.
"If you take it, you'll be number 4. That's a big jump."
"Number 4?" Eversauff huffed. "Really?" His quills stood up.
"It's good, but you can't see that, can you? I can make that happen, but I just realized my life's pretty good without you."
"Fine."
"Fine," his savior snorted.
"What you don't realize," Eversauff seethed, "is fourth never wins. Doesn't place. Doesn't even show. What? Just play the hands I'm dealt?"
The man, like many others before, walked out of Eversauff's life forever.
“Barkeep!” Eversauff hollered. “This chair's uneven! I need a replacement.”
“Well, then, I sure hope you get one,” was the pub manager’s--and life's--rejoinder.
_________________
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Word count (excluding noteS): 366
Submitted for Saturday, March 16, 2024
2024: A Story-a-Day for the whole year. This one is #76.
**
A "shū- shū" is a Cajun word and refers to a firecracker that fails to explode. When the fuse burns down, instead of exploding, it fires off in a jet of sparks, sometimes making the firecracker spin and hop in crazy directions. In other words, it shū-shū's. A shū-shū is a failure; something that fails to "light." Ken Eversauf is the quintessential shū-shū. (The name has been changed to protect the shū-shū.)
About the Creator
Gerard DiLeo
Retired, not tired. Hippocampus, behave!
Make me rich! https://www.amazon.com/Gerard-DiLeo/e/B00JE6LL2W/
My substrack at https://substack.com/@drdileo
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Comments (1)
I Googled shu-shu before I reached the ending. It detected the language as Uzbek which meant hush hush when translated. Then I had the option of seeing what it meant it Chinese. I clicked that and it meant uncle, specifically the father's younger brother. I'm just so glad you provided the meaning at the end hehehe. Loved your story!