Dialogue Story
Dialogue Story
Hubert wearily walked up to the door, ploddingly putting one foot in front of the other, growing nearer to the door step with each lifting, advancing, and settling of his foot. A short step up and he was standing squarely and solidly on the doormat. His left hand holding a bloated and strained briefcase, he had to use his right hand for the task ahead. Tiredly, almost dejectedly he lifted his harm, first bending upward at the elbow, his fingers outstretched and reaching, then lifting the whole apparatus skyward from the shoulder, stopping with his fingertips just brushing the rounded edge of the teardrop shaped brass door knocker. A short, jerky jab forward and his hand was securely wrapped around the fattest part of the knocker. Having thus anchored his arm, he let the life fad from it, and it hung limply between his shoulder and the knocker. Sighing with defeat, Hubert knocked.
“Hello Ma’am! How are you today?” He waited only just long enough to see the person’s gender before speaking.
“Hello, I’m fine. Who are you?” She said, each word harried and rushed out. She peered out, a face tight and pinched, young but clearly over worked, and stressed. She squinted not from the brightness of the day but from sheer exhaustion, the kind of exhaustion that causes the paranoia makes every unknown a potential new chore to be dealt with. She was wearing a dingy apron over a blue collared shirt and loose fitting blue jeans.
“My Names Hubert, and I’m here to brighten up your day, you week, your life! You appear to be a busy woman, lots of things to do, lots of people to see, and just not quite enough time to get everything done. Is that you?”
“Well I am—“
“Of course it is! Now I think I’ve got just the thing for you, actually I should say things. I’ve got this wonderful little day planner that will beep to let you know when you need to stop doing one thing and move on to the next. It really is so great, it goes through all of this year and even the next too! Its leather bound and lined and all of that.” Hubert enthusiastically said, his words bouncing out and bouncing into the ears of the woman, bounced around inside her head, and really just annoyed her.
“Actually no, thank you, but I already have one of those. I really must be getting back to—“
“Oh that’s fine I’ve also got one of these, these really are top of the line, this little gadget does everything for you, you plug into it everything you need to do for the whole week, and it makes a schedule for you, connects to the internet, makes all you appointments for you, calls anyone it needs to and then prints out this schedule for you to follow. How’s that sound?” Hubert’s words were really starting to anger the woman. She was busy and hated to spend money anyways.
“Look I really need to get to those dishes, so I’m sorry, perhaps another time.” She really was mad, but she hated to be impolite.
“Well hold on, just one more minute of your time, I have this other product, it relieves stress!” Hubert was really sounding rather pathetic now, and the door was easing closer and closer to its frame, “Here I’ll get you the pamphlet—“ The door slammed shut. The bolt slid home. “—for it.” He finished lamely. Hubert stared at that brass knocker for a moment, studying the distorted reflection of himself looking out. He reached into that obese briefcase of his, pulled out the afore mentioned pamphlet, stuck it under the door mat, and turned to tiredly sadly walk away. A Salesman’s a salesman.
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