“Omar!
What's up, buddy?!” Val spoke to his best friend elatedly from the video
screen, “I know, I know. That's a bad joke. But fuck it, I still think it's
funny. Anyway, I suppose they asked you to do the eulogy. It was per my request
so I at least hope they asked you. In fact, I sort of need you to so if
anyone else is doing it then you need to fucking kill them. Or at least
restrain them until after the funeral or something. Sabee? I know you must be
really weirded out by now. And you're probably stressing about the eulogy on
top of it!” Val smiled, “But I promise you...everything's gonna be okay. Even
the eulogy! In fact, I'm gonna help you write the fucking thing. How's that for
best friends? So here goes. First, just talk about how awesome I am and what a
badass I was and how much I got laid and everything. Then talk about how I'm
the shit. And then talk about how I'm totally money. But I'm sure that's pretty
much what you had jotted down already...”
Omar stared
at the TV screen in disbelief.
“...cut a
lot of that out because my grandparents will probably be there and a lot of
aunts and uncles and old people and such. It kind of sucks that you won't be
able to use any profanity or play Mötley Crüe or anything. Which is what I
would have wanted. I think that goes without saying. But I guess I'm still sort
of joking again. I'm making light and you might not be in the mood for all
that. So here's what I'll do. Why don't we switch to something serious for just
a minute and then maybe, who knows...I might switch it back to something on the
lighter side at the end if I remember. I do like to end things on a high note,”
Val smiled again, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I promise, that's the last one. That
was a good one though.”
Omar stared
at the TV screen in disbelief.
“...that's
really cool is you'll get to tell my parents something really important. In
fact, you'll really be telling the world but it's my parents and family that it
will probably mean more to than anyone else. Just imagine the looks on their
faces when you tell them it wasn't a suicide! I swear to God, my mom will
fucking kiss you! It wasn't a murder either in case they were worried
about...which they probably were a little. I mean, it's not like I showed any
signs of depression or anything. And why should I have?! I wasn't depressed! If
anything, and I'll just confide in you here, I felt more exhilarated than at
any other time in my life. Once I came up with the plan, that is. The idea! But
we'll get back to that in a minute. But back to the murder thing. Those poor
people probably thought I was murdered even though the cops, I'm sure,
told them there weren't any signs of foul play. I feel kind of bad about that
part...letting them wonder, I mean. But I had to. There really wasn't any other
way. Sometimes... Like...” and Val had to think for a minute, “Like an artist!
Oh my God! I can't believe this analogy didn't occur to me before now because
it's so perfect! Like...you know how an artist, a painter, a master painter
will keep his painting under a sheet or something until it's finished.
Half-finished; it might just confuse people. Half-completed; the work might be
misunderstood. And that would be very unfortunate. Because if there's one thing
in this world...if there's one thing that's just really, truly awful; it's
being misunderstood. Still...not everyone's going to understand, I
guess. All we can do is aim to make our points and be satisfied with that. And
just because something isn't understood all at once well...that just means it
may be ahead of its time. Ya followin' me?” Val smiled again.
Omar stared
at the TV screen in disbelief.
“...leads me
to what this is really all about. The eulogy! Sort of. And the obit. The funeral
itself should be coming up in something like the next 48 hours and I'm really
gonna need your help on this one. I'm going to need you to help me be
understood. And what could be more noble than that? And anyway, I'd really
appreciate it. I guess it is sort of a last request. The thing is...and I know
this is going to sound a little crazy at first but you'll have to bear with me
a minute. Well, let me just ask you this? How many times in your life have you
been told by your parents or your teachers or your mentors or whoever
really...how many times have they told you that you have to just dive right
into to something, ya know? A project or whatever the case may be. They say
that that's the recipe for success. To expend yourself wholeheartedly if you want
solid, concrete results. To pour your very soul into it even. To sacrifice
everything and only then will you achieve...I don't know. Whatever it is you're
after, I guess. Greatness? Some people would probably choose happiness. But you
know me. I think it's greatness that I'm after most. And in order to achieve
that greatness; one-hundred percent is what's required. One-hundred percent of
your time...not to mention that you've really got to put your body on the line.
And the craziest part is that I'm not even sure that I believe any of this
shit. That's just what they tell us and, you know, I've heard it from a lot of
different, respectable people so... I'm willing to give it a try. To take the
plunge, if you will. Devotion. I'm willing to devote myself to... Well, I don't
know. Originality is one of the rarest and most important things in this
world...in my opinion, of course. So I guess you could say that, when I saw a chance
to do something completely original, I felt like I needed to seize the
opportunity. Plus, as you know, I'm an artist. I enrolled in art classes and
everything only to learn, and quite quickly I might add, that those are all
just complete bullshit. I guess I knew that they would be. I guess I should
have known anyway. Those classrooms are mostly full of people just trying to be
cool. The truth is; they don't give a damn about art...or originality, for that
matter. They would never sacrifice anything, not even their time, for the sake
of something needing to exist. And that's because they don't understand...or
don't care. They don't realize that art exists in a realm outside this world
and it calls to us. Often, it's more important than just the individual.
Humanity needs it! The real shit. The true shit. It's like the manifestation of
a dream and without dreams we'd all just be mindless fucking robots. There'd be
no point to life. I wonder if animals feel like they have a point or not. I
often wonder what animals dream about, if anything. You might think that I'm
getting off track here a bit but I'm not. There's still something, as I've
said, that I need you to do for me. I'm just trying to explain why I
need you to. The obvious reason, the most literal, is that the cops have
something of mine. Well, it might not be mine anymore. I suppose, if
anything, that it belongs to the general public. It belongs to the world! To
humanity! I'm going a bit overboard here but that's just for fun. Anyway...the
cops are keeping it, I'm assuming, and so what I need you to do is get it back.
I'm debating whether or not to send them a copy of this tape too. I don't know
though. That is, I'm not sure if that would help this process along any. I've
just never really liked cops, ya know. And I certainly don't trust them.
Neither of those, though, are the big reasons why I wouldn't send
them a copy of this tape. If I don't, it's because I've just concluded that
cops truly are robots without dreams and that they... Well... That they
wouldn't understand. They're definitely going to be hanging onto it though.
What you'll probably need to do is convince them that it's not evidence.
I'm assuming they'll have it in some sort of evidence room as I'm almost
certain that there will be an ongoing criminal investigation...despite the fact
there was no crime. No crime ever occurred. And that's what I mean. If
you think it would help, feel free to bring this tape along so I can tell them,
as I'm telling you, that no one was murdered here. That piece of property is not
evidence. In fact...let's just call it an artifact that I'm bequeathing you.
Perhaps, the most important artifact from my life...so take good care of it.
And then...I don't know. Hopefully, it'll wind up in a museum or something.
Also, feel free to sell it to a museum if you get a good price. You're
welcome,” Val winked, “What I'm really hoping is that the cops don't just think
I'm such a courteous guy...so courteous that I'd actually lay down a mat
so that I might be cleaned up that much easier. If they do then all is lost.
And I do mean all. But that's a bet I'm obviously willing to take. I'm
confident that they'll keep it. I just hope that they don't fuck it up too
badly. Rolling it up shouldn't do that much damage. In fact, most of it
should be dry by then. I did pick canvas for this very purpose which seems
fitting.”
Omar stared
at the TV screen not really thinking about anything.
“...goes.
You ready? Probably not but I'm gonna tell ya anyway. Take some time to think
about it after I've explained. Really let it sink in before you cast any final
judgments. And after that, I think you'll really love it. I'm an artist and
this is art. Now, you can get into that whole 'does art imitate life or vice
versa' thing but...that's not quite what this is all about. I guess it
does bring up an interesting point though. Like...where does life end and art
begin? And I'm about to attempt to answer that question. Just think! Since the
dawn of Man, I don't think anyone has every tried to. They just keep asking the
question over and over and over and seem content to do just that! Well, not me.
My shit is much more groundbreaking. And maybe after this, people will finally
have an answer. But if there still isn't one...at least I can say that I tried.
Plus, no matter what, it's still really going to be one for the books,” Val
paused again to think for a moment, “Did you know that it was my original plan
to involve you at first? At first, I wanted you to be there when it actually
all went down. This way, for our purposes, we might be able to avoid the police
altogether. I wanted to but there was just too much that could go wrong
plus...I didn't want you to get in trouble for anything.”
Omar began
to fidget a little.
“...thing I
need to make perfectly sure you understand. You, specifically. Other people may
misinterpret this grand gesture but... You. I need to make sure you don't. So
listen to me. This is not about death. Quite the opposite. If anything it will
make me immortal. I'll be practically everywhere after this. All over the
newspapers. All over the television. All over the internet. I'll be spread out
all over the general human consciousness. People will be Tweeting my ass
everywhere even...hopefully, with pictures. And that's really the key. If you
want to find a way to immortality...or at least something more than just
being human, then you have to find a way, obviously, to not be human
anymore. To disintegrate into energy, if you will. Now, I do realize that
famous people or even just the Joe Schmoes of this world who achieve their 15
minutes of fame wind up on the news or TV or seemingly everywhere at
once for a duration of time; as long as their fame or appeal holds them intact.
But I'm talking about something much bigger. Spiritual; I guess you could say
even though I've never really considered myself a spiritual person. But, just
to reiterate, I don't believe anyone can become truly immortal until they lose
the 'mortal'. Only then will I be everywhere. Only then will I truly be spread
out over all of this vast universe at once. Not to mention all over the
pavement. The canvas will catch most of it. That's kind of the whole idea. But
I'm sure there'll be some splatter. Like my teeth. For some reason I envision
my teeth flying everywhere. I imagine people stopping along on the sidewalk and
picking them up to keep as souvenirs. I have no idea why though. People are
just weird like that. But you see now. It's the canvas that I really need you
to retrieve. It would be awesome if you could get your hands on it by the time
my funeral rolls around but, I'm just saying that if you can't, it's okay. But
you have to get it at some point. I'm not trying to sound demanding or
anything. It's just very important to me. It's artwork in its absolute form!
Like...I've heard of people painting with their own feces or whatever
but...this is so much better. There's gonna be blood, shit, brains, skin. Bone
even! It's both a literal and metaphorical statement. Get it? You
really have to apply yourself!” Val took a minute to laugh heartily before
regaining his composure, “I knew you'd get it. That's why we're friends, man.
Anyway, I'm thinking of giving a thumbs up on my way down so the people eating
at the sushi joint across the street can...”
Omar stared
at the TV screen and decided that he'd never really enjoyed his friend's sense
of humor...not that he thought for a second that this was all some sort of a
hoax. He couldn't. It had already happened and this so-called canvas was
indeed down at the police station. Omar knew with certainty, though, that he
would never meet a more interesting person as long as he lived. And isn't that what
art is? Stuff that's interesting. Acts that are thought provoking? And if this
was the case, then his friend was a great artist indeed. What he couldn't
decide, however, was whether or not the world was ready to realize this...whatever
it was. This conceptual ultimate.