Entry #1: A Play of Words

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My story begins with a spoon. But not just any spoon. That would be far too vague. No, this particular spoon is magic. Well it's not magic in and of itself, but it is magical. It contains magic. Or harnesses. I'm not entirely sure how actually, considering I am far from an expert on all things magic. To be brutally honest, I'm not even sure the spoon is all that magical really. That's just what I overheard when the guy at the pawn shop was telling me how magical the spoon was and when that guy told me I should gouge out my eyes with it.

Maybe my story shouldn't begin with that spoon. Perhaps I should start off with a little bit about myself instead and then lead into the spoon... The spoon isn't all that important really. The story isn't even about the spoon so much as it is about everything that came after the spoon and the pawn shop and the eye gouging... But again, I'll start a little before all that.

My name is Richard Flint and I'm professionally unemployed. The lady at the employment placement office asked me what I'm good at, and I told her "being unemployed."

"I'm sorry, we don't have any openings for that skill set," she replied in a relatively unemotional tone.

"But you do have jobs..."

"Oh yes. We have plenty of jobs, just not any that involve not having one."

So that's when I decided to go on my own and start a private firm. There isn't a lot of call for unemployed people, maybe it's a supply and demand thing? But I'm fine with that. If I was to get too much business, I wouldn't feel comfortable calling myself unemployed anymore.

So for the most part, I simply fill my overabundance of free time by doing things I think I might enjoy.

I was in a play.

Several of us unemployed people (When you're unemployed, you meet a lot of people in the same boat, so to speak. And by boat I mean situation.) Anyways, several of us caught the acting bug. Not a real bug, although Joey had a pet cockroach he kept in a matchbox. Oh yes, the play.

It was called "A Death Of A Salesman," not to be confused with the already existing play "Death Of A Salesman." I'm not sure the author knew about the other one... if he had, I think he would have sued. The guy's name was Tony and we all thought that the play might be good, considering his last name was Shakespeare. Like father like son, or so we thought.

It wasn't until later that we found out that Gregory Shakespeare was his uncle and not father, so that explained a lot. Maybe the talent missed his side of the family.

"The play is about a door-to-door gerbil salesman who lost his worldly possessions in a grease fire, and he becomes really depressed and he dies a little inside," he said.

Some guy named Grover spoke up, "So he's not actually dead?"

"No, see, his death is mostly metaphorical and not quite as severe as you might think. He's simply lost his zeal, desire and ability to sell."

The play didn't do very well, but my role as "Grocer number 2" (I also played "Interested Customer number 6") led me to get a part time job as a bagger in a grocery store. I figured it wouldn't eat into my unemployment business too much, so long as I put as little effort into the job as possible.

It didn't help matters much that my eyesight is horrible though. I can see just fine, but more or less I'm almost entirely blind. Someone suggested wearing glasses, but I couldn't see my own face well enough to get them on. I kept missing, which is precisely what happened with the grocery items I was tasked to bag. You can only drop glass items beside a brown paper bag so many times before they fire you. Take that advice to heart, in case you're thinking of doing something similar.

But my poor eyesight is what leads me back to that spoon from before... I found a spoon. I could see that perfectly after I tripped on it, which is probably what made it so easy for me to find.

There it was just lying there on the ground outside my apartment building. So of course, I picked it up, gave it the old once-over, and shoved it into my pocket, because that's the sort of thing I have been known to do.

After walking around a bit, doing various things like buying lottery tickets and then throwing them away immediately on the assumption that I've already wasted my money anyways, I finally decided that I should get the aforementioned spoon appraised.

I did a little digging and discovered that there is no such thing as a "spoon appraisal service" nor is it a good idea to use random spoons for digging in other people's yards.

It was then, and only then, that I decided to take the spoon to a pawn shop.

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