Poets of prose

By kraviz

Bright artificial lights were blinding the eyes. Anyone trying to read the letters written on theater's playbill had to screw up. The place was as usually crowded. Different people could be seen here: imposing gentlemen in excellent dresses, ridiculous teenagers in torn suits, middle-aged dissipated fellows with jellies tearing their smudged t-shirts, some have simply borrowed their costumes from Adam, even a plumber and a few eccentric women could be noticed among the throng. It was the night of the premier.

When all the photos were made and important persons greeted, main doors were finally opened. Human stream flowed into the "Pouet Demotheater". Some people were still standing outside. These were tired reporting groups. Each one has chosen some hall's door, waiting for the end of the play. One of the reporters and his cameraman looked really weary…

- I can hear applause. They are going to open the doors now. Do I look all right? Wait a while. Ok, let's start now. 3-2-1. Go. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We are inside "Pouet Demotheater". We were the witnesses of freshest and newest super demo premier from MEGA ELITIST IDOL GROUP. It's high time to learn the opinions of the visitors. Here's the first one. What can you tell about the recently seen blockbuster?

- Roxx!

- Take a look there, very elegant man. What can you say? What are the impressions?

- Sooooooo sexy!

- This one's got something to say. Well, what did you like the most?

- Zillion polygons in one metablob!

- Let us pass to next visitor. How would you describe it?

- Suxx.

As soon as the sound of last letter left visitor's mouth, a sudden approached furious kid clasped the displeased speakers throat bawling: "Don't listen to lamers!".

- ... Opph. Let's try another door. And could you, please, tell us your opinion? Is there anything you could compare it with?

- It's better than a massage for recently boot-kicked butt.

- I see. Oof... Hey, you, stop fussing around. Ok, what have you got to say?

- Thanx 4 greeting me there 8DDD

- Enough, cut. Cut, man. Gonna leave that job. Shit upon my head. Turn off that goddamned camera, I said! Don't look at me that way. And they call it opinions!? I don't want to hear that nonsense anymore. Need to drink something.

Two exhausted people made their way to the bar next to hall's doors:

- What have you got here? Candy popcorn, salty popcorn, popcorn with mustard, popcorn with horseradish. Holy Mother! What kind of freaks can eat it during watching? Phhh... Ok, give me a soda.

- Would you prefer a salty, candy, cherry, "Blockbuster bubbles", "super hero" glass...

- Ohh, not you. Stop irritating me, dork. Read my lips: I WANT SODA, simply a SODA. Got it?

- Yes. Want to try our "spybreak-pie"?

- Another word and you'll become a "spine-break-pie", idiot! Now I take a seat and you'll bring me a glass of soda, is it clear?

The correspondent approached the nearest chair and wearily sank into it. The fatigued cigarette smoke started to rise up lazily:

- Oof. What on earth! Such a hard day. Are we to show these guys? What's that worth? That's a complete failure. Are the 2 words all they can express? Their emotions, feelings, does it somehow influence them? I'm quite sure it must beget something inside them.

The fellow left his place at the bar and brought a cold glass on a salver:

- Here's your soda. I've heard a couple of your words...

- You did not. Turn 180 degrees and move the hell back to cash register - the place of your destiny.

Turning back and moving towards his place waiter pronounced:

- Sure, I will. But that was the wrong thing for any expectations. Just a "show off" demo, not much soul in it. They have simply demonstrated technical skills, no real idea inside. They are good craftsmen, but no more than this.

The journalist knitted his brow astonished:

- Hey, wait a while, dude. Sorry, for my being rough. Get back, please.

- I see. You have at last decided to order a "Hack-Snack".

- Don't... No... Could you go on telling about that demo.

- Most of the things were already told. Even if they express themselves this way, that's not interesting for myself. Watching once would be enough. The problem's not only the watchers, but also the creators. They think all the things they do are ART. Even though we can't define what modern art is, that just seems to be self-deception. And I'm so often sorry to see they are trying to follow all that "fashionable" streams around, simply reproducing the things we all have already seen. If watchers aren't really internally impressed they can't born an expressive vivid description of their personal sensations. Also don't forget they are rather tired of the endless stream consisting of dull works made in a hurry, thus it's so simple to voice an opinion in one-two word. Talking about today's show: visitors were only surprised by the amount of things they've seen, but there were no gentle fingers to touch the soul for reflection...

"Gimmi a limon koke wiz krim stuf apon" a recently approached visitor demanded.

The waiter had to interrupt the speech and return to his work.

Gaunt reporter opened his shabby bag and took a cellular out of there. He quickly pressed a couple of small buttons, brought the phone to his ear and started to wait:

- Mr. Dintrose? Yes, that's me. My interviewing? Oh, just fine, fine. But I've got another reason for a call. I want to leave the job. What do I mean? Yes, you've got me right, it's stuck in my throat! Ha! Nah, I don't need a day off. I'm going to be selling "Hack-Snack" and popcorn...

kraviz