For blog writers

“There was no formal goodbye that day. No ‘see you tomorrow’; no ‘take care’. A simple nod was all they did say, yet they knew everything’s okay.”

These were the first lines in the mind of the janitor I have not thought of a name yet. As he scraped off vandalism on the walls of the comfort room, a single line found its way through his heart. In bold black letters, someone had ‘cared’ to scribble, “TALK ABOUT SALVATION :-),” with an arrow pointed at the can. It aimed to rumor people who badly needed to “go.”

This sounds like a mediocre movie where one could really find inspiration on an unlikely situation. I don’t want to be philosophical about the whole matter so let us just say that out of sheer boredom, the janitor took out his pen and unrolled a toilet paper.

“The greatest of all novels would be written on a bathroom tissue,” he said aloud.

What he did not know was that someone was using the next cubicle. Dressed in a formal suit, he heard what the janitor said. He was actually trying very hard to vomit. A formal interview awaits him. After more than five tries for a white-collar job, he thought that he could no longer accept another rejection. He was desperately trying to puke his guts out to calm his nerves.

To make the story short, below is an excerpt of the conversation that transpired. I have not yet thought about how it happened or who and what triggered the event but let’s just pretend that the two found some sort of commonality. Beneath the cubicle where they sat, they exchanged ideas without knowing who was on the other side.

Janitor: The shameless prick writing on this blog does not know what he’s trying to say. That is, if he really has something to say.
Formal Guy: Yeah, his ego is larger than his talent. Playing god – that’s what he is.
Janitor: Speak to me of immortality and I’d readily talk about writers – or the ones pretending to be. I’m the janitor on this whole thing and I think I talk smarter than you do.
Formal Guy: We’re not supposed to know each other, remember? He loves irony. Let’s just get along with his whims.
Janitor: Fact is, we came from the same figment of imagination he has. In a sense, you are you and I am also you. We are the same. As creations of this god wannabe, a script has been laid out even before our conception.
Formal Guy: Actually, I think this is a free-flowing script. He’s just trying to find sleep. But let’s go back to that playing god thing. As his creations, we are slaves to his will. A world is created specifically for us to do what he intends us to do.
Janitor: Which makes the whole matter complicated. In a sense, we do the dirty work for him. Afraid of revealing himself through his writings, he uses us as a disguise. Sort of putting on an iron mask, he expects us to disclose what he really looks like.
Formal Guy: The loser!
Janitor: I would like to ask a question though. Just what control does he have over us? Absolute? But what if the characters he made really rebelled against him? Against his will? Against his vagaries?
Formal Guy: Then this conversation would have never existed. But then again, it did.
Janitor: So tell me one thing straight. Just who is fooling who?

Then the little chat was stopped by a sudden noise outside. It was three o’clock in the morning and my mom is telling me to go sleep.