building

by Wesley Andrus

Satire, Creative Writing, Absurdism

“Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit,” said the man. He didn’t have a name. Most people didn’t. They liked it that way, because they lived in… well, that didn’t have a name either. They just lived there, wherever they were. There was not much to say about the intriguing political and cultural motivations, considerations, and unique-itations of this place because it lacked all of them severely. Regardless, that is what the man said.

He was talking to his acquaintance who also had no name, a very common theme among—

Nevermind.

The two men were standing in front of what very well might have been a store, that certainly could have sold merchandise, were it a store. It was not long before their conversation was interrupted by the collapse of the building on the other side of the street. This, of course, was caused by the third man, who had been trying to talk to them but couldn’t get their attention. A cloud of dust billowed out of the rubble.

“Oi, what’s that?” asked man one.

“That building fell over,” said man two, in response to man one’s question, obviously.

“What’s your opinion on the latest episode of Relevant Television Show?” shouted man three from the other side of the street, clearing the dust from his eyes. It was a good show, but no one watched it.

“What did he say?” man two asked to man one.

“I couldn’t say,” replied man one. They couldn’t hear man three; after all, the other side of the street was so far away.

“Do I need to knock that over, too? I think it’s a store. That building behind you,” said man three, pointing at the building behind them. “Do I need to collapse that building to get your attention?”

The first man curiously wandered across the street, avoiding the car, truck, van, and armored military vehicle that attempted to interrupt him. “Hello,” he said to the third man, who had collapsed the building. “Did you collapse that building?”

“No,” said the man, trying not to be the type of awkward man who collapses buildings. “But it got your attention, didn’t it?”

“Well, I think so.”

“Good.”

The second man had been left behind so he forgot about man one and man three and went to what was hopefully a pub. It couldn’t quite be called a pub, seeing as it wasn’t a pub, but one might think of it as a pub, if one could understand that it seemed like some form of pub but was not one. He purchased a beverage which did not agree with his stomach, and so he returned to the street and puked.

The first and third men observed someone across the street puking.

“I should certainly help him,” said man three. “For he is in distress.”

“Help who?” asked man one to no one in particular as man three was hit by a car, then a truck, then a van, and then an armored military vehicle on his way across the street. Man three approached man two.

“Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit,” said man three. He was talking to his acquaintance, man two, who also had no name, a very common theme among—

Nevermind.

Two weeks had passed, and there were no longer any buildings along one side of the street. Two men were on the side with buildings, and one man was on the lacking side. They all had many broken bones, which was to be expected considering how many times they had been hit by automobiles while crossing the street to help a puking man in distress.

A fourth man arrived at the man on the side of the street with no buildings, carrying a large wooden plank.

“I am here,” said the plank-laden man to the buildingless man.

“Who are you?” asked the architecturally-unburdened man to the construction-implying man.

“My name—” began the asked man.

“No, who are you?”

“I have a name.”

The questioning man crossed the street to the others without being hit by the car, truck, van, or armored military vehicle. He was hit, however, by the dump truck.

“My name is The Contractor,” said the man with the plank to no one. He set his plank upon the ground in a vertical position.

“That man, across the street… he has a name,” said the man without the plank to the other two men.

“No,” said one man.

“We must stop him,” said the other.

They crossed the street.

The Contractor saw them. When they arrived, he asked them, “What buildings should be built here?”

“What buildings?” they asked in unison.

“Yes,” said The Contractor.

“You can’t do that,” said one man.

“I don’t like you,” said another.

“Where are the chilled beverages?” asked the third.

The Contractor was confused. “I must fix this empty side of the street,” he said.

Now the three were confused. “Which side?” asked one.

“Why?” asked another.

“Build a pub,” said the third. “And give it a name, so it doesn’t collapse.”

The Contractor nodded. He used his vertical plank to build a pub. It was a good pub, and it had a name. It was named, “Good, Named Pub of Beverage Ability.” That was a pretty good name, because The Contractor named it.

“That’s a bad name,” said man one.

“How will I get your attention, if you are on the other side of the street?” asked man two. “That pub is sturdy, and it has a name. I can’t collapse it now, to get your attention.”

Man one looked at man two. Man two must be the type of awkward man to collapse a building. Maybe he puked, too, after drinking beverages.

“I want a chilled beverage,” said the third man, who wanted a chilled beverage. “And I want to be named John. It’s a good name.”

John went in, and The Contractor went with him. They consumed beverages which did agree with their stomachs.

The other two men standing outside had by now quite forgotten what it was they were standing there for. One of them decided to cross the street to the side with the store. It wasn’t really a store, but he did cross over to it.

Pub-side man and store-side man stared at each other across the street. They ignored the dump truck. It hurt to have so many broken bones. Maybe a pub would be nice. No, it wouldn’t be. Would it?

It was too complicated.

And that was the politics in their place. Somewhere. It wasn’t a normal place like how a place place would be, one that someone might go to, or that no one might go to. Really it was more of a somewhere sort of area.

Nevermind.

Please note that the armored military vehicle never got to where it was supposed to go, because it wasn’t supposed to go anywhere. After all, it wasn’t a dump truck.

DISCLAIMER: The opinions, beliefs, and viewpoints expressed by the various authors in this paper do not necessarily reflect the opinions, beliefs, and viewpoints of Kamiak High School or The Gauntlet.