The Weather

Hey Kid

“…”

 

“Oh, hey there, pal. Is that Brendan I’m talking with here?”

 

“…”

 

“Brandon? They should call you Brando, you got such acting chops.”

 

“…”

 

“What? It’s me, kid, Maury. Maury Spitz. You know, your agent? Uncle Maury? How you doin,’ champ?”

 

“…”

 

“Uh-huh, uh-huh, that’s great, kid, just great. Good stuff. Hey listen, your mom around?”

“…”

 

“No, no, no, no, let her sleep. Let the woman sleep. She works so hard, your mom. A real saint, that one.”

 

“…”

 

“What!? A chiseler? Why would she even say such a hurtful thing? Your poor mom’s just confused, probably overtired from keeping up with you, sprout. Wow, that stings. A chiseler, huh? That is the grossest of untruths. Ouch. The poor woman, her mind’s gone cuckoo from exhaustion. I mean, she’d be upset if you didn’t talk to me. You got those Logos I sent ya last time, right? Would a chiseler send gifts?

 

“…”

 

“Right, right, Legos. Fun stuff. Well, your mom was right, giving them away to charity. Always thinking of others, she is. A real Sister of Perpetual whatever. You’re lucky, tiger. When I was your age, all I had to play with was a stick and a potato. Anyways, the reason I’m calling is, I got another job lined up for you.”

 

“…”

 

“No, not a commercial. Commercials? Everybody’s doin’ a commercial these days, kid. Commercials are old news. This is even better. It’s, um, an independent film. Yeah, that’s it. A real art-house number.”

 

“…”

 

“Yup, just like Pam’s Labyrinth.”

 

“…”

 

“Pam, Pan, they’re all good. The point is, Brando, is I told’em you’d be perfect for the part.”

 

“…”

 

“Even better than that. Hobbits? That’s nothing. What you’d be playing is, you’d be playing the role of the delivery boy. You like delivering packages, right? I mean, what kid doesn’t? How old are you again? Five?”

 

“…”

 

“Eight?! Holy shit, time flies. Pardon my French, kid. Eight, huh? Well, that still works, I guess. You’re still pretty small, right?”

 

“…”

 

“Well, in your big scene, you sneak into this warehouse, right, and you nab this package, this briefcase, from these real sinister guys that want to keep the package. Like in a James Bond or something, but quiet. And then you deliver it to me. You like crawling through vents, right chief? I bet you’re a fast crawler.”

 

“…”

 

“Yup. I’m in the movie, too. Oh, I been acting for years, kiddo. Years! I’m a real pro.”

 

“…”

 

“Shhh, kid. No, no, let her rest. She works too hard, such a hard worker. A looker, too. Too bad she’s such a…a saint! Besides, you don’t want to ruin the surprise, do ya? I mean, this could be your big break, boyo. You could be the next Shaun Cassidy.”

 

“…”

 

“Well, he’s very famous. Mark my words, son, your star is rising as we speak! This gig could work out real well for your mom and you, that’s the truth. And you’d be helping out your dear old Uncle Maury, who’s in a real pickle. I’m desperate here, my friend. Desperate to see you succeed!”

 

“…”

 

“Oh, it starts shooting real soon. Right now, in fact. You got a bike, kid? You know where the docks are?”

 

“…”

 

“That’s the spirit! A real go-getter, you are. You got gloves, right slim?”

 

“…”

 

“No, those are mittens. Gloves. Like mittens with fingers.”

 

“…”

 

“Nevermind, nevermind, doesn’t matter. Anyways, sport, you got to leave now, before it gets too bright out. For the, um, cameras. Yeah.”

 

“…”

 

“C’mon, kid, you’re killing me here. I vouched for you and everything. This briefcase is a time-sensitive matter, a real life-or-death situation for your Uncle Maury. And besides, vocal exercises? You already got the voice of an angel, like a young Robert Goulet. A real titan of stage and screen.”

 

“…”

 

“He’s very famous, too.”

 

“…”

 

“That’s the ticket! I knew I could count on you, Brando. Meet me at the phonebooth behind the old tile factory. You know where that is, right? By the waterfront?”

 

“…”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m looking forward to working with you too. The sun’s coming up soon, kid. Chop chop.”

Christopher Evans lives and studies in Vancouver, BC. His fiction has appeared in Joyland, Riddle Fence, The Canary Press and more. He wrote a poem once, but sadly, it wasn't very good.