Costly Wisdom

Published by TheDude2002 in the blog TheDude2002's blog. Views: 149

"Costly Wisdom"
By
Brian Paul Dunlop


This world is a confusing one - not too confusing, though; just enough to keep one settled as sweet delusions sweep their mind. And all is the same in Langdon County; a far cry from a civilization once thought to be man. And nature coils like a venomous snake; one point flourishing with magnificent beauty, and the other point, casting you aside and letting you see the true dark depths of the human soul. And so, I move onward; past Langdon County. Always seeking. Always.

I walked onward; past the cradle of light that lined those quiet suburban streets. Empty streets. Very barren.

Up ahead, a man was working. Very curiously, this man worked. Very suspicious. And everyone approached this man. For he had goodies and kept everyone in line and made everyone happy.

This man was well protected. Truly, he was of a higher ranking than I.

"Excuse me, sir" I asked, interrupting him as he argued on with the scantily dressed woman, standing at the stop light.

"What do you want?" asked the man, with a less than pleasant demeanor, told by his sunken, yet intersecting eyebrows.

"I don't mean to bother you. It's just that I'd like to pay to spend some quality time with the lady you were talking to."

"What? Are you a cop or something?" asked the man, once again, defensively.

"No. I'm not a cop. I have money. So-"

"Alright, fifty bucks" said the man, not even letting me finish my sentence. But I didn't care. And neither did anyone else.

I lead her back to my motel room. At that point, I was going from motel to motel, all across the country, trying to capture the true dying essence of American life, and all was the same; all dirty, all spoiled, all poor and lonely. And though many have companions, they are just as lost and deprived as someone living out in the wilderness as a hermit, except only then, would you be truly distant from the madness that is civilization. So sometimes in these motel rooms, I'm all alone. And I knew that was the best company I could ever afford or really even want for that matter. And that was the reason I turned to prostitutes.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. What is it?" replied the lady, as she pulled her stocking up in position on her right leg.

"What made you have sex for money? Is it the loneliness? Poverty? Sexual fulfillment?

"I don't really know, exactly. It's sort of a strange thing, really. Maybe it's because I don't care about my body. Or maybe it's because I don't care about anything, at all. Why do you ask? What you did wasn't all that better."

"I don't know why I ask. I guess it's sort of in my nature. I'm just lonely; sometimes I feel as if this world was not meant for me. Sometimes I just hate everything."

"Yeah, the world is a cruel, crazy place. Tell me about it" said the lady, looking at herself in the mirror, adjusting her earrings. "Sometimes feeling pain is better than feeling nothing at all."

"Is that partially why you're a prostitute?"

"I guess you could say that. You could also say a lot of things. You know nothing about me, kid. You'll never know anything about me. And trust me, you don't want to know" answered the lady, giving me a look, telling me to change the subject.

"Well, are you going anywhere you need to be? We could talk. I think it could help both of us."

The lady looked at me and smiled then walked over to me, and gently pressed her index finger against my lips.

"Quiet. I don't help people like that. You'll figure something out. We all do, somehow" said the lady, now patting my head, in comfort.

"I'm not doing this just to help me, you know?"

"I know. I know."

And that was all that was said, and that was all that I ever knew.
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