Post by Peter Shelley on Sept 26, 2013 18:27:46 GMT -4
AUTHORS NOTE: I'm keeping this one brief. Why waste precious pearls on something that won't get used?
As another perfect day in the sun speckled suburban utopia of Beverly Hills comes to a slow, peaceful close, the hard working winners of real life Monopoly slip out of their suits and ties and into their mistresses or a coke or alcohol induced coma. Yet while many are winding down their workdays in loungers at the poolside with a shot glass of their personal poisons or enjoying the company of up-market escorts, Peter Shelley lives to be the exception. At 31 Acacia Gardens, Peter's two story multi-million pleasure palace in the hills, the hard work has only just begun as he assembles the important people in his life in his living room for a very important announcement that in his mind simply can't be done over the telephone.
Sharing the love seat in front of the television are the main guests of honour, Peter's beautiful but frazzled blonde ex-wife Nicky and Dr. Austin Matheson, the new man in her life, Chief of Surgery at Downtown LA General Hospital and the only man Peter had ever known to pull off a goatee. Seeing them cuddled up together didn't make things easier for Peter as he prepares himself mentally to address his audience but he damn sure wasn't going to let them see him sweat.
On the sofa to the left of the loveseat, facing the fancy French windows that would allow a view of the immaculately maintained garden were it not for the curtains being drawn is Stephen Shelley, Peter's twenty five year old son. A senior student at UCLA studying Architecture, Stephen also enjoys the company of his other half Molly Heath, an “alternative” looking Fine Arts student with enough metal adorning her body to be legally recognised as a cyborg. It's fair to say Peter is somewhat disapproving of their relationship.
Last but not least, in front of the window sits Audrey, Peter's maid and the key catalyst for his and Nicky's divorce. Having accidentally left a pair of print panties in their marital bedroom which Peter had generously and completely innocently offered to her as a changing space one morning when Audrey was running late, Nicky deliberately assumed the worst so she could finally put the nail in the coffin of their failing relationship. She knew full well that Peter loved her and was completely faithful, but having grown so sick of his competitiveness and his egomania she took the opportunity as a “Get Out Of Jail” free card and cited it as the reason for her divorce.
When Peter steps forward to the centre of the room, all eyes are on him. He won't let the pressure get to him though, evidenced by the cool and collected expression on his ageing face. Clearing his throat, he opens his mouth to start speaking only to be interrupted by Dr. Matheson.
“Uh, Peter? Do I really have to be here?” asks Austin, impatiently glancing at his watch that costs about as much as his car. “I know I'm dating your ex and she doesn't feel safe being here alone but unlike some people, I actually have important things to do this evening. Like y'know, saving lives?” His slicing words cut through Peter's psyche like the executioners axe through a spinal column but Peter grits his teeth and hacks it, refusing to show weakness before this hot shot doctor.
“I won't keep you a moments longer more than I need you compadre. This won't take five minutes.” assures Peter, cracking his knuckles as he takes another look at his captive audience. First Nicky, then Austin, Stephen and Audrey, but Molly doesn't get so much as a glance.
“Now, I've assembled you here today to give you all my wonderful news. As you all know for the last ten years I've been very conscious about my physical and mental well-being. I think you'll all agree that I'm probably the healthiest friend you have,”
“You're not my friend,” growls an increasingly frustrated Dr. Matheson, knowing his time is being wasted by this clown and his sales pitch.
“-I'm probably the healthiest person you know,” corrects Peter. “Which is why I've decided to put my one passion of keeping myself in chipper condition into my return to the workplace.” Peter pauses for dramatic effect, his excitement not at all mirrored by his disinterested crowd. “I am training to be a professional wrestler!”
“Oh for God's sake,” snaps Nicky, hastily scooping up her bag and leaving without so much as a goodbye. Austin shakes his head disapprovingly and follows suit, vexed at being summoned for the purpose of having to listen to one of Peter's ego trips.
“Woah, that's rad. I love wrestling,” coos Molly dreamily, Her eyes appear unfocused and the faint scent of marijuana seeps into the room as she opens her mouth but Peter is more than happy to take any praise at this point.
“Thank you for your support, Molly. I'm glad we can see eye to eye on this particular issue. Maybe one day we'll achieve similar results on government policy and the way this world actually works but for the time being, I'll take this in lieu of your ability to comprehend reality,” says Peter, mocking his son's girlfriend to ease the feelings of inadequacy inside himself but his barbs sail largely over her excessively dyed head. He looks to Stephen to say something but the man himself gazes back at him silently. No words can be found for what he just heard.
“Audrey, what do you think?” Peter inquires, looking at the young, sandy haired college student maid. Desperate pleading eyes as he seeks some form of approval for his new career path.
“Will I still be getting paid to clean your house?” she asks, barely able to keep her blood-shot, sleep deprived eyes peeled open long enough to look at her employer.
“Sure! I've got enough money in savings from my coat tailing of the .com boom to last me ten lifetimes. You'll still be getting paid,” he reassures.
“Then go ahead, do what you want Mr. S,” Audrey yawns, tugging at the mid-riff of her Depeche Mode t-shirt and staring at the floor.
“Uh, Stephen. How about you? Still on for nine of Hillcrest's finest on Saturday?”
“Yeah sure dad. It'll have to be an early one though. I'm having dinner with Molly's parents and then we're going to a body paint rave afterwards,” he confirms with a nod. Stephen definitely takes after his father but with a more liberal sense of dress until it comes time to hit the putting green. While Peter insists on chino's, suit pants and Argyle sweaters, Stephen is a jeans and Led Zeppelin t-shirt kind of man.
“A... body paint rave? Son, I... I don't even know where to start,” he replies, completely at a loss as he tries to picture what that might entail only to immediately realise what a horrifying idea that is. Peter knows without even asking that it was his girlfriend's idea to go to this event but given that challenging the lifestyle choices of his wife contributed to her decision to leave him, he didn't want to lose any more family members to clashes of personal taste. “That's fine. I'll meet you on the green for seven and then we'll see to it that we're out after lunch.”
“Cool. Well you guys are free to go then. Thanks for coming and thanks for not being Negative Nancy's like your mom and Doctor Douchebag Matheson. I appreciate it.” Peter says, ushering people out into the corridor and towards the front door, letting a rush of warm night air blow in as the door swings open. “Drive safe, all of you and I'll see you when I see you,” he bids, getting silence for goodbyes.
He closes the door after them then turns to face the long corridor ahead of him, a hallway that feels a mile long without clumsily dropped shoes or bags of his wife's shopping to fill it. When he bought this house eight years ago, he bought it for the huge storage space and the personal swimming pool, but all that room counts for nothing when the only person you have to share it with is your pet dog Barky who's an outside kind of dog and Katrina, a teenage daughter who spends more time at her boyfriends house than at home.
“It sure has been a long time since I watched Happy Gilmore,” he says, trying to rally his own spirit. His gut gurgles uneasily as he slips into the living room, nursing a shot glass of scotch and a head full of cluttered thoughts.
As another perfect day in the sun speckled suburban utopia of Beverly Hills comes to a slow, peaceful close, the hard working winners of real life Monopoly slip out of their suits and ties and into their mistresses or a coke or alcohol induced coma. Yet while many are winding down their workdays in loungers at the poolside with a shot glass of their personal poisons or enjoying the company of up-market escorts, Peter Shelley lives to be the exception. At 31 Acacia Gardens, Peter's two story multi-million pleasure palace in the hills, the hard work has only just begun as he assembles the important people in his life in his living room for a very important announcement that in his mind simply can't be done over the telephone.
Sharing the love seat in front of the television are the main guests of honour, Peter's beautiful but frazzled blonde ex-wife Nicky and Dr. Austin Matheson, the new man in her life, Chief of Surgery at Downtown LA General Hospital and the only man Peter had ever known to pull off a goatee. Seeing them cuddled up together didn't make things easier for Peter as he prepares himself mentally to address his audience but he damn sure wasn't going to let them see him sweat.
On the sofa to the left of the loveseat, facing the fancy French windows that would allow a view of the immaculately maintained garden were it not for the curtains being drawn is Stephen Shelley, Peter's twenty five year old son. A senior student at UCLA studying Architecture, Stephen also enjoys the company of his other half Molly Heath, an “alternative” looking Fine Arts student with enough metal adorning her body to be legally recognised as a cyborg. It's fair to say Peter is somewhat disapproving of their relationship.
Last but not least, in front of the window sits Audrey, Peter's maid and the key catalyst for his and Nicky's divorce. Having accidentally left a pair of print panties in their marital bedroom which Peter had generously and completely innocently offered to her as a changing space one morning when Audrey was running late, Nicky deliberately assumed the worst so she could finally put the nail in the coffin of their failing relationship. She knew full well that Peter loved her and was completely faithful, but having grown so sick of his competitiveness and his egomania she took the opportunity as a “Get Out Of Jail” free card and cited it as the reason for her divorce.
When Peter steps forward to the centre of the room, all eyes are on him. He won't let the pressure get to him though, evidenced by the cool and collected expression on his ageing face. Clearing his throat, he opens his mouth to start speaking only to be interrupted by Dr. Matheson.
“Uh, Peter? Do I really have to be here?” asks Austin, impatiently glancing at his watch that costs about as much as his car. “I know I'm dating your ex and she doesn't feel safe being here alone but unlike some people, I actually have important things to do this evening. Like y'know, saving lives?” His slicing words cut through Peter's psyche like the executioners axe through a spinal column but Peter grits his teeth and hacks it, refusing to show weakness before this hot shot doctor.
“I won't keep you a moments longer more than I need you compadre. This won't take five minutes.” assures Peter, cracking his knuckles as he takes another look at his captive audience. First Nicky, then Austin, Stephen and Audrey, but Molly doesn't get so much as a glance.
“Now, I've assembled you here today to give you all my wonderful news. As you all know for the last ten years I've been very conscious about my physical and mental well-being. I think you'll all agree that I'm probably the healthiest friend you have,”
“You're not my friend,” growls an increasingly frustrated Dr. Matheson, knowing his time is being wasted by this clown and his sales pitch.
“-I'm probably the healthiest person you know,” corrects Peter. “Which is why I've decided to put my one passion of keeping myself in chipper condition into my return to the workplace.” Peter pauses for dramatic effect, his excitement not at all mirrored by his disinterested crowd. “I am training to be a professional wrestler!”
“Oh for God's sake,” snaps Nicky, hastily scooping up her bag and leaving without so much as a goodbye. Austin shakes his head disapprovingly and follows suit, vexed at being summoned for the purpose of having to listen to one of Peter's ego trips.
“Woah, that's rad. I love wrestling,” coos Molly dreamily, Her eyes appear unfocused and the faint scent of marijuana seeps into the room as she opens her mouth but Peter is more than happy to take any praise at this point.
“Thank you for your support, Molly. I'm glad we can see eye to eye on this particular issue. Maybe one day we'll achieve similar results on government policy and the way this world actually works but for the time being, I'll take this in lieu of your ability to comprehend reality,” says Peter, mocking his son's girlfriend to ease the feelings of inadequacy inside himself but his barbs sail largely over her excessively dyed head. He looks to Stephen to say something but the man himself gazes back at him silently. No words can be found for what he just heard.
“Audrey, what do you think?” Peter inquires, looking at the young, sandy haired college student maid. Desperate pleading eyes as he seeks some form of approval for his new career path.
“Will I still be getting paid to clean your house?” she asks, barely able to keep her blood-shot, sleep deprived eyes peeled open long enough to look at her employer.
“Sure! I've got enough money in savings from my coat tailing of the .com boom to last me ten lifetimes. You'll still be getting paid,” he reassures.
“Then go ahead, do what you want Mr. S,” Audrey yawns, tugging at the mid-riff of her Depeche Mode t-shirt and staring at the floor.
“Uh, Stephen. How about you? Still on for nine of Hillcrest's finest on Saturday?”
“Yeah sure dad. It'll have to be an early one though. I'm having dinner with Molly's parents and then we're going to a body paint rave afterwards,” he confirms with a nod. Stephen definitely takes after his father but with a more liberal sense of dress until it comes time to hit the putting green. While Peter insists on chino's, suit pants and Argyle sweaters, Stephen is a jeans and Led Zeppelin t-shirt kind of man.
“A... body paint rave? Son, I... I don't even know where to start,” he replies, completely at a loss as he tries to picture what that might entail only to immediately realise what a horrifying idea that is. Peter knows without even asking that it was his girlfriend's idea to go to this event but given that challenging the lifestyle choices of his wife contributed to her decision to leave him, he didn't want to lose any more family members to clashes of personal taste. “That's fine. I'll meet you on the green for seven and then we'll see to it that we're out after lunch.”
“Cool. Well you guys are free to go then. Thanks for coming and thanks for not being Negative Nancy's like your mom and Doctor Douchebag Matheson. I appreciate it.” Peter says, ushering people out into the corridor and towards the front door, letting a rush of warm night air blow in as the door swings open. “Drive safe, all of you and I'll see you when I see you,” he bids, getting silence for goodbyes.
He closes the door after them then turns to face the long corridor ahead of him, a hallway that feels a mile long without clumsily dropped shoes or bags of his wife's shopping to fill it. When he bought this house eight years ago, he bought it for the huge storage space and the personal swimming pool, but all that room counts for nothing when the only person you have to share it with is your pet dog Barky who's an outside kind of dog and Katrina, a teenage daughter who spends more time at her boyfriends house than at home.
“It sure has been a long time since I watched Happy Gilmore,” he says, trying to rally his own spirit. His gut gurgles uneasily as he slips into the living room, nursing a shot glass of scotch and a head full of cluttered thoughts.
