Scott Jardany Lewis (fiction)


I Don’t Feel Like Making Coffee This Morning

James had his acoustic guitar propped on his left knee with his right knee against the pavement and his busking fedora in position. Here he was, playing to the people going about their shopping, effecting their day, making it a little bit better. He wondered whether to start with an original or to go with a cover. “But first” he thought “I’ll post on Facebook that I’m busking”. He got out his mobile and began typing. Earlier that morning he had posted “bacon and egg mcmuffin … win” and the night before “beer + pizza = wicked combo”. The post last night got seven likes; this morning’s only got two. He did not read the comments; just knowing that his friends knew that he was living life to the full was enough for him. He wondered what to post, it had to be something that made him look good but still made him look like a noble kind of guy. He typed out “Going to make these guys at Hallingford Mall’s morning a little bit better with some Coldplay and John Mayer and maybe make some mullah on the side”. Today he was wearing his best clothes for playing music, a shirt unbuttoned over a t-shirt with blue jeans and sandals. He was the laid back every man who just happens to know a few popular songs on the guitar and had a fine singing voice to go with it.

He could also play the piano and thus the keyboard too as he did with his band Kids With Sticks. They played a folk rock fusion and they’d played at a couple of parties, making some fans to help get the word out there. The last one he’d done he’d taken his shirt and t-shirt off and spent the night without a shirt on. He got so drunk he forgot to put them back on and he found a lift and left without ever retrieving them. He had to go back to the girl’s who had thrown the parties house the day after to get his best shirt and t-shirt back, but when he knocked on the door he got no answer. So he went around the side of the house to the backyard where he’d played and started searching around, and ended up passing the window of a bedroom in which the girl who had thrown the party was having sex with her boyfriend. “This is fucking sick” he thought, the boyfriend was doing her from behind and James felt the impulse to take a picture with his mobile. He did and then found his shirt and t-shirt and got out of there. In his car he was thinking his friend Robert would really commend him for getting the photo, so he sent it with the tagline “I thought you’d like this dude, I know you’ve always had a thing for her”.  Robert sent a message back saying he had just beaten off to the photo and James felt repulsed again and tried to distract himself with some driving.

James thus remembered the photo was still on his phone so he went to delete it in case someone ended up looking through his phone and finding it.  But at that moment he got a call from the girl who had thrown the party, James wondered whether she wanted to come down and watch him play. “You fucking asshole, Robert showed me that picture you took you fucking pervert, what the fuck is wrong with you?” she yelled. James was taken aback, “Why are you getting angry at me, Robert was the one who beat off to it” he protested. She paused and then softly threatened “I’m going to call the cops and have you put away you fucking pervert”. She hung up and left James felling ill. He sent her a message saying he had deleted the photo, sat down on the pavement and wondered what everyone was thinking of him at that moment. Surely he could drum up some support from the boys, maybe they would think Robert was worse than him for having shown the girl the picture and betraying him.

He then thought of the girl’s boyfriend and was scared for his safety, he had never been in a fight before and he knew the guy could take him out easily. He was overwhelmed with frustration and got his phone out again and posted on Facebook “Some slut is angry with me for being such a slut, it’s not my fault”. As soon as he posted it he felt regret but he knew he could not take it down now, if he did and someone had already seen it, it would make him look piss weak. He needed to distract himself so he started playing the only maudlin song he had ever written, “I don’t feel like making coffee this morninggggg”. He remembered Robert shitting all over the song the first time he sang it, because in reality he did not drink coffee. “Robert has always been an asshole” he thought, “he must be jealous because I’m a better musician than him, that’s what it’s all about”. This made him feel better and he really got into the song he was playing. But then someone was tapping him on the back and he had to cut the song short. “Buddy you need permission to play here, you can’t just sit down and start playing”. It was a security guard. “But it’s not like I’m shit, I’m in a band, normally I would get payed for a performance” he whinged. It was not true though, he had never been paid and he wondered if the security guard knew it, it’s not like you can find Chris Martin busking on the sidewalk.

The security guard didn’t say anything more, he just motioned for James to get up and walk away. James pushed himself up and picked up his empty busking fedora. People were finally looking at him, and he wondered whether they were on his side or not. “They’re probably on my side, no one likes security guards” he thought. He checked his Facebook after he strapped his guitar to his back; no one had liked his “slut” post, but Robert had posted a comment saying “He probably took the photo because he’s a virgin that doesn’t know what sex even looks like”. The comment had 8 likes, and James posted a reply saying “Are you beating off now buddy I know how much you like to beat off”. He walked to the mall’s car park and then checked his Facebook to see Robert had already replied, “how do you know, do you watch me too?” Robert’s reply had already received 3 likes and it had only been there for three minutes. James started to cry, he really did not feel like making coffee that morning.


by Scott Jardany Lewis

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