Jordon T. Langley, Part Five

“It’s an eight week class, starting next Saturday.  Eight Saturday’s in a row and they accept a donations of two hundred dollars.”

“A DONATION of two hundred dollars?”

“Yes.  That’s what the man said.”

“What if you don’t want to donate any money?”

“Then you can’t take the class.”

“So it’s NOT a donation, it’s the cost of taking the classes.”

“Yes, but they call it a donation.”

“I call it a rip-off and a lie, but did you register?”

“Yes.  You said I had to register.”

“Okay, that’s a start.”

“It’s a class of twenty-five people.”

“Good, you’ll meet like-minded people.”


“Do you have any siblings?”

“No.  My parents didn’t even want me.  They said I held them back.  They wanted to be professional dancers, but couldn’t fulfill their dreams because I had to nap.”

The camera stared at him. It’s shutter clicking open and closed so fast it was hard to see.  “Dancers?  They wanted to be professional dancers?  Did they dance?”

“Not that I know of,” said Mr. Langley.  “They never did anything.”

“Think carefully about your answer to this next question.  Were you raised in an asylum?”

“No, we lived in a house.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” said Mr. Langley. “I mean I don’t know what an asylum looks like, exactly.”

“Were there other people living with you?  Were they wearing hospital gowns and just wandering around.  Was there medication?”

“No.  Nothing like that.  Just us and Corporal.”


“Yes, my father’s boyhood dog.  He had it stuffed and it stood by his chair.”

“Are your parents still alive?”

“No.  They were on vacation in Iowa when their car was picked up by a tornado.  You know, one of those funnel clouds.  That’s how they died.  They traveled farther than they planned to go.  I mean the tornado…”

“I know what you mean.”

Mr. Langley nodded.

“You’re not planning on ever having children, are you?”


“That’s good.  Really good.  With genes like yours, well, it’s just better not to pass them along.”

“Okay.  I’d need a female to have kids anyway.”

“You’re smarter than you look,” said the camera.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t pick up on sarcasm, do you,” said the camera, flatly.

“I’m not sure.”

“Okay, moving on.  You need a whole new wardrobe.  You need to burn the one you have.  Do not donate it to the poor or homeless, because it will just depress them even more.  Do you understand?  Burn EVERYTHING and start over.  Do you have money?”


“Go to a SALON and get your hair styled.”


“A salon.  You know what a salon is, don’t you?”

“It’s for ladies, isn’t it?”

“Ladies?  Who uses THAT word anymore?  It’s WOMEN.  You have to catch up, Langley.  Really.  And men do go to salon’s as well.  You need to get your hair STYLED, not just cut by a barber.  Do you understand?”

“I think so.”

“It will help bring you into the world as it exists TODAY.”


“Are you really thirty-five?”

“Yes.  Why?”

“No reason, just wondering.”

“They’re going to take us behind the scenes, at the museum, and show us things the public hasn’t seen.”

“For two hundred dollars, that’s the least they can do.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“You need a jacket.  I’ll go through the GQ magazine that you’re going to buy when you go out.  I’ll help you decide what to get, then I’ll show you pictures so you know how to put things together and stand.”


“Yes.  Stand.”


“I’m thinking you should highlight your hair.”

“You mean with a highlighter pen?”

“I’m going to forget we had that small conversation.”

“Okay.  I will too.”

“I think this might be more thanI can handle from here.  You really need a personal shopper.”

“I do?”

“Definitely.  The person needs to pick out your clothes and get you to the solon.  There are other things he can do to help as well.  Call a fancy department store and ask if they have anyone you can use.”


“Do everything right now.  You can do some things tomorrow but you have to be ready by Saturday.  Before you get started, however, look inside me and you can see Cleopatra.  She was gorgeous and brilliant.”

“Isn’t that Elizabeth Taylor?”

“Oh, sorry,” chuckled the camera.  “I was watching that movie last night.”

“It was pretty good,” said Mr. Langley.

“It was, but look again.  This time it’s the real thing.”



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8 Responses to Jordon T. Langley, Part Five

  1. Lol! So good. I will never use the term “lady” again!

  2. Resa says:

    OOOO, that’s really good stuff! My mom channeled Elizabeth Taylor. LOl! Sigh!

    • Hahahah…she was gorgeous and supposedly a truly nice person.

      • Resa says:

        Too, nice. People walked all over her.
        She made these insanely gorgeous intricate traditional eastern European design Easter Eggs (again with “The Egg”) using dye and wax. They should have been in an art display. Who makes those any more?

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