your fate is my toilet

arugula & prosciutto by 'cinquecento trattoria'

rating: clausus / 10.0

HUGO & THE FRINGE FESTIVAL - III

We reached a parking lot at around 10:30pm and William Blake began complaining that he had already paid for parking in this lot and there better be an open lot somewhere. We eventually found an extremely tight spot near the end of the lot and he parked the car as if it was a diagonal parking lot even though it was a straight parking lot. William Blake got out and saw the way he parked and then got pissed at his car, but ignored it because he thought we might be late. 

We ran to the Randolph Theatre where the show would be playing. We were always running. Running to the St. Patrick Station, running to Moonrise Kingdom, running to the 'relatively new' Scorsese film. It was like there was this vast field of nothingness chasing us all the time. We were always running away from nothing, which meant we were afraid of nothing. We were fearless.

We arrived to the ticketing booth. Two people in front of us hesitated buying tickets. 'Eat, Poo, Love' does not reside well with serious theatre-goers. Serious theatre-goers have flexibility in only one area, and that is in their torso, which connects their head to their behind. That part of them is extremely flexible, so they can hide their head in their behind whenever they feel embarrassed for you. The hesitation was only good news for us though, because it meant the show hadn't sold out yet. William Blake got his ticket for free because he was a volunteer at the Fringe Festival. Kahlil Gibran and I bought our $10 tickets and met another friend of ours called Oscar Wilde. Oscar Wilde was a theatre kid and was close friends with WIlliam Blake, but we all knew Oscar Wilde as a friend. He had recently come out of 'the closet' on facebook, but most people knew already. He was drunk at the moment. Only a bottle of wine would do a show called 'Eat, Poo, Love' justice, he said. He threatened to rip apart the Fringe table out front if Julia Roberts did not make an appearance. I told myself I would help him if the opportunity ever arose.

We stood around outside the Randolph Theatre waiting for them to let us in. The theatre was a beautiful old church building that was converted into a theatre and had neon light sign on it that said 'Randolph Theatre.' It was already dark outside and we went to check what time 'Artist Alley' would be open to. It would be open when the show was finished so we would grab a drink there after.

Then some guy stood on the stair case as if it was a pedestal and started yelling at everyone. He was an important person at the Fringe Festival. He said they were doing the most important thing in the world right now and that was giving young people in Toronto a voice. Good thing young people in Toronto are self-absorbed pricks that think individualism and expressing your true self is more important than people who have no food. I went to the washroom and missed his panhandling roundabout accidentally, but then later told myself it was subconsciously on purpose. I heard enough self-important lies coming from my brain all day. I did not need some guy on a staircase to tell me more of them.

I had to go into the side of the building to find washrooms. I froze for a few seconds when I stepped through the door because I was confused. A girl with golden hair came out of nowhere and smiled at me and said, Are you looking for the washrooms? They're down here. She pointed down the stairs and then proceeded to walk down them looking back at me and smiling. I quietly said, Thanks. I followed her down the stairs, significantly slower so she didn't think I was stalking her. I realized that didn't make any sense, even during that moment, but I did it anyways. I am scared of girls. 

When I finished, I left the washroom and I took one step up the staircase and saw her just several steps ahead of me. I panicked. She would have me arrested and I would have some restraining order placed against me. She would scream as loud as she could and point at me and say I was creep. She would say, Ew, and turn around, and I would be sitting on a gymnasium floor being arrested. All because she smiled at me and told me where the washrooms were. That's what she would say. I would be arrested for being gross. I didn't even know her. I would spend the rest of my life in jail just for following her up a flight of stairs. No one would believe I actually needed to climb up these stairs to leave the building.

I took five thousand seconds to climb onto the next step looking down, down and down as far as possible. I waited another five hundred years on the next step. I didn't want to go to jail. As I exited the building, I saw the girl with golden hair waiting in line to get into the theatre. I had no choice but to stand directly behind her. I wanted to dig a hole in the sidewalk and hide myself. I calculated how much money it would approximately take to get a taxi and go buy a shovel. I looked at my watch and thought it was a bad idea. They would find me with a shovel and arrest me and call me some sick psychopath. No one would believe that I bought the shovel so I could bury myself. I decided it wasn't worth it and pretended I was invisible.