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The Mask Behind The Man

I am a character in a book. It is a fact I have come to accept. If no one reads the book, I do not exist. If someone reading the book closes it, I cease to exist. If the book becomes a best-seller, which is unlikely given the scant talent and non-existent connections of my creator, but if it does, I will exist in many different states of development simultaneously. I will be the man who juggles a multitude of universes. I may, by that time, speak several languages.

I am reminded of something Joe DiMaggio once said, something to the effect that some kid might be seeing him for the first or last time, so he owed him his best. That's the way I feel: somebody may have parted with his or her hard-earned money to buy this knot-head's book. I owe that person my best. I will fight through the cliches and stilted dialogue. I will emote with gusto, win or lose the girl with equal passion, and play the fool, the villain, the hero to the best of my author's ability. No reader will ever suspect the depths of my boredom, nor the shallowness of my creator.

Story by:

Bram Chastain

submitted at 7:47pm

3 March 2012