That Was Just Your Life
September 6th, 2011
[Location: Dave's Coffee Shop - Bangor, Maine - 2:05am]
{Time drifts by slowly in the coffee shop. A carousel full of forgotten desserts turn slowly to the hum of an old ceiling fan above. George Strait's "I Cross My Heart" can be heard in the kitchen as short order cooks work to fill the orders of drunks and derelicts.}
???: They even play this shit in Maine...unbelievable.
{Brandon Barajas laughs softly to himself as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone. It isn't a new one, as hard times have befallen Brandon. He sighs to himself as he opens up the phone to check the time, mutters a curse under his breath, and slams it shut, tossing it on the table next to a drained cup of coffee.}
Waitress: Can I get you a refill?
Brandon Barajas: No, no thank you. Just the check, please.
Waitress: I don't think I'll waste the paper, hon.
{Brandon looks up at the waitress, and smirks.}
Brandon Barajas: Do you mean on me, or the bill?
{The waitress smiles. A smile that she has, no doubt, presented to many a man who has been stood up}
Waitress: She didn't show up?
{Brandon laughs, as he stands and grabs his hat.}
Brandon Barajas: She never does.
{Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a five dollar bill, and lays it on the table.}
Brandon Barajas: I thank you for the kindness. By the way, if you happen to see a large, bald man come in here, don't call the cops. Just tell him I waited as long as I could.
{Brandon puts his hat on, nods courteously to the waitress, and walks past her. As he walks by, a quizzical look crosses the face of the waitress.}
[Location: Marriott Bangor Room 203 - Bangor, Maine - 5:25am]
{The hum of the air conditioner drowns out any noise from the highway a mere 40 yards away. Inside, Brandon Barajas begins to pack his things, and prepare for the journey home to New Mexico. As he walks over to the dresser to pick up the last of his belongings, the phone rings. Brandon just assumes it's his wake-up call for 5:30, and ignores it. Moments later, the phone rings again. Agitated, he picks up the phone}
Brandon Barajas: Thank you for the wake-up call.
{As Brandon takes the receiver from his ear, he hears a familiar voice .}
???: You always ignore phone calls?
{Brandon begins to rub the side of his temple. He knows who it is instantly.}
Brandon Barajas: You always flake from business meetings?
???: Didn't know we were meeting to discuss business .
Brandon Barajas: Why the hell else would I be in Bangor? For the shopping?
???: Sure. I bet you need a new newsboy hat to retire that tired ass one you still wear. Didn't I buy you that hat when I won the WICW World Title?
{Brandon laughs}
Brandon Barajas: It still fits, Max.
{The man on the other end of the line is Maximum Violence. Brandon cringes to himself as he hears smacking on the other end.}
Brandon Barajas: Don't eat while you're on the phone, man. It's disgusting.
Maximum Violence: Damn, you bitch more than anything, man. I don't know why I keep you on.
{Max puts down the phone to put away his food. Brandon mutters under his breath..}
Brandon Barajas: I wonder that myself sometimes.
{Max returns to the phone.}
Maximum Violence: Sorry, didn't have time to brush. So, this 'meeting' you speak of consisted of actual business?
{Brandon sighs.}
Brandon Barajas: What do you think I've been doing for the past two years!? I've been trying to get you work! Get you back in the public eye! I'm certainly not doing this for my health!
Maximum Violence: Whoa whoa! Alright, obviously I've offended you. And, when I've offended someone, I'm man enough to apologize for it.
{There is a period of dead air between the two.}
Brandon Barajas: Well?
Maximum Violence: Well...what?
Brandon Barajas: Aren't you go-- nevermind. Listen, I wanted to meet with you because I've found you work.
Maximum Violence: Awesome, which bingo hall/gymnasium will I be working in New England now?
Brandon Barajas: No bingo halls this time. Believe it or not, I actually got you a contract.
Maximum Violence: Wow! You must have wheeled and dealed with the best of 'em! Alright, where am I headed?
{Once again, a period of silence}
Maximum Violence: Well, out with it!
Brandon Barajas: Millenium Wrestling Alliance.
{Brandon shuts his eyes, preparing himself for the oncoming onslaught.}
Brandon Barajas: Max?
Maximum Violence: Yeah..
Brandon Barajas: So, what do you think?
Maximum Violence: That's fine.
Brandon Barajas: You can't be serious Max. I just got you a job with a premiere organization. The SAME organization you abandoned nearly two years ago, and that's all you have to say?
Maximum Violence: Look, I got to go. You'll be hearing from me tomorrow. In the meantime, get rid of that hat. It's hideous.
{Before Brandon can say another word, Max hangs up. Brandon places the reciever down and begins to rub his eyes. He picks up the reciever and dials 0.}
Attendant: Front desk, how can I help you Mr. Barajas.
Brandon Barajas: Yeah, I'm going to be extending my stay for an extra day. That alright?
Attendant: Of course Mr. Barajas. But, we will be needing another form of payment. The night manager informed me that your credit card was declined.
{Brandon sighs.}
Brandon Barajas: Was afraid of that. I'll be right down.
{Brandon hangs up the phone a bit harder than he would have liked. It wasn't their fault that Brandon hasn't had a steady flow of income in the past two years. He reaches for his wallet, and pulls out the last $200 he has.}
Brandon Barajas: Either I have too much faith in the man, or I'm a fool. Either way, this is the last gamble I make.
{He stands up, and begins to make his way to the door as he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His eyes are bloodshot, his hair is a mess, and he hasn't shaved in weeks. Smiling, he picks up his newsboy hat and places it on his head. He then makes his way out of the room and to the front desk as the scene fades...}