Caroline sat on the crowded stoop - everyone was waiting to find out what happened. Amidst the deafening chaos came a frightened silence, no one wanted to move, no one wanted to lose their footing. Even some cradled the burlap sacks and grasped at straw hats like charms, but the tear in reality’s fabric grew larger, and the crowd grew sick with disorient. Confusion rose and some on the fringes fled to find solitude and hopefully a shred of sanity.
Alas, slowly inching further, farther, but getting nowhere, Caroline looked back and saw the dusty stoop. She hesitated, faltered, and fell back down under the weight of exhaustion. In a moment of clarity, she realized it had been three days since she first arrived on the block, camped out with just enough to get by. How much longer? How much longer must she wait before she can gain entrance to the store? The nationwide chain had announced the release of “Kronic, Abysmal Ineptitude” exactly one week prior without detail to its origins or purpose and counter culture quickly latched on with veracity. Every store outlet was mobbed. It was a shopping, media, and cultural event all in one, yet no one knew quite exactly what they were seeking. Perhaps it was the yearning that Master’s & Smitherspoon had so carefully packaged up. For several years, the powerful marketing firm had progressed through the ranks to an almost rock-star status. Indeed - they were epic. Able to meld unique experiences in a non-existent digital bliss: video games, music, artwork, the spoken word - you name it. But who are Master’s & Smitherspoon Caroline wondered? Did she care? Was “Kronic, Abysmal Ineptitude” all she ever wanted? If she got it, what would be left? How far would she go to get it? If it wasn’t all that she wanted, what would be left? A broken spirit, or a liberated soul free from conspicuous manipulation and subversive coercion?
Funny.