Good to be back. This time with something bit ridiculous, bit absurd.
The Radical Suggestions Bureau
a story of one extraordinary midtown mayhem
It was in the not so distant past when S. and H. got their revolutionary idea and decided to create the “Bureau for Radical Suggestions”. The two of them were keen on the idea of non- governmental organizations and wanted theirs to operate in the best possible way in order to contribute to building a better and more structured society (nothing was wrong with the present one other than it neglected small time issues and bigger ones it dealt with in a lazy dull way. S. and H.’s line of work concentrated mainly on these small issues, which were quite big actually). Also they thought their “invention” to be innovative and thus profitable.
The two, S. and H., sat down and made a list of the things they thought will strike an asking, such as how to stop the town’s air pollution caused by the new model Zeppelins which now ran on diesel (What happened to introducing sun batteries?; A small mention here -not only the zeppelins polluted, they also often cloaked the sun, which was in no one’s favor, so they added that to the list too); they thought the subject regarding the lack of working hand in general and the growing problem with work placement for the law abiding citizens without proper education, but otherwise absolutely capable of labor to be brought; they waited for someone to come and ask for a solution with the stray dogs which roamed the streets at night, madly barking and howling.
They waited for students, they waited for bus drivers and taxi drivers; they waited for someone’s grandmother, for the small time businessman, for the rebel, the realist, the optimist, the believer. For all of those who had trouble and no clue as to how to fix it, S. and H. were full with radical, but not extreme suggestions, ready to offer them in exchange for a simple sign in the bottom of a certain yellow papered petition, and by the end of the week, if God had mercy, they’d have a dozen, at least, society regarding problems in progress to be solved within the month.
Well, none of the above happened, but instead in two months S. and H. experienced the headache of a lifetime.
Upon hearing the news of a new agency opening doors with the label “radical” and “suggestions”, the horses from Jefferson Bailey Horse Riding Club, came to complain about the low paychecks they’d been receiving from the local filming studio to which they were assigned. They were offended that their acting skills were taken lightly, stating that, “It’s not bloody easy to pretend to be dead or imitate being shot at or stabbed with a spear!” They wanted a solution from S. and H. otherwise they’d quit. S. and H. were stunned by the turn of events, and they simply looked at each other, mute and dazzled, and didn’t offer anything to the hoofed team peering inside their small office. Later on, all the horses, which were a great deal of help to the movie industry in the entire region and were even often hired for small roles for Hollywood productions, quit the business and ran off into the plains to be free and live by the terms of the Great Stallion. They pissed on movie posters along the way.
Soon after them came the local squirrels, dragging whole families of raggedy, furry members to complain about the amount of trees being chopped in the parks recently. (That there was a troublesome matter, growing more viscious throughout the years, but coincidentally as S. and H. opened their bureau the bubble of patience finally burst). These were town squirrels, and town squirrels were hard to fool. They explained they had brought the question up to the humans, but apparently no connection was made. S. and H. thought that might be because of the dialect the squirrels used, but dared not say. The squirrels on the other hand demanded a solution otherwise they’d make a nut riot. S. and H. were left speechless and offered nothing. For a whole week the streets were a nightmare; rotten nuts fired every couple of seconds and rained upon the citizens, who were advised to wear helmets for safety.
When that tragedy was over, S. and H. sat again and burned their list with radical ideas, trying to come up with a new one, fitting the wanting’s of their new customers, but failed to create any. After some sleepless nights, lots of coffee and then lots of alcohol, new visitors arrived knocking on their door. These were clowns, and not very cheerful ones. S. & H. whimpered at their sight.
Nonetheless the clowns made their statement and said they didn’t want to be happy any longer, but the contract they’ve signed with the circus was forcing them to act happy all the time. They wanted legal actions to take place immediately, because they were too tired from pretending. S. gave a loud cry and covered his face with both hands. It’s not really necessary to say that the two of them couldn’t come up with a suggestion for the clowns. Nor that the clowns went away and read Stephen King’s “It” and then terrorized the town for a month.
After two months of visits from near and far including a trumpet troupe of middle-aged midget’s in miniature magenta suits, an impersonator in decision between sexes, a veteran from WWII with a truck load of arsenal, stuttering teachers from the late 60’s and a dozen more caricatures of society and the underground lifestyle, S. and H. gave up and closed their “Bureau For Radical Suggestions” running away as quick as possible.
They settled in a town no one knew much about, including its own citizens. There after a few years they invented Soft Language, and thought that to be in favor of the world, but well…that didn’t really go as planned you see.