#and i’m a little remiss about the lack of maude talk .. i love her too

[cherryberg]

ok heres a real quastion why do you find your current blorbos so compelling. can u tell me abt their themes. would u get along with them in real lifes

my bones crunching teeth. my gripping hand on your shoulder, drawing blood.

ned flanders .. where to fucking start .. in the shortest way possible, that is

well, quickly. me? getting along with ned flanders? In Real Life? hell no! simply by virtue of me being the person i am. perhaps the band Dr. Colossus put it one way when they said “Stupid Sexy Flanders / Republican at best / Politically to the right / Dexterity to the left” (haloes .. my Dr. Colossus mention) but who’s to say how accurate that is now. i too am lefthanded you know. and we all saw him kiss fat tony. and he missed him too

anyway, simple put. i think ned flanders is like. a deep character - thanks in part to his religiousness. now you can throw your hands up about like his, well, flanderisation - from the homer simpson perfect neighbour foil to unbearably devout christian - but it does effect multiple aspects of his life in really interesting ways

so you’re telling me this man hates his beatnik parents? (Hurricane Neddy) what, did he cling to religion as a way to other himself from them? carelessly raised by them without discipline? repressing his anger for years? and how does that reflect upon his own kids, brought up in a strict christian household. his own kids he’ll be overprotective of because he can’t afford to lose them like he lost their mother (Bart Has Two Mommies), but who are still harshly scorned and punished when their faith in christ waivers? (Todd, Todd, Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me?)

and what if when he doubts? when god takes both of his wives? (Alone Again, Natura-Diddly, O C’mon All Ye Faithful) his wives who he loved and will continue to grieve for? (I’m Goin’ to Praiseland, Diary Queen) and what of his second wife, huh? fourth grade teacher krabappel? how he learns to lower his religious guards for her? (Ned ‘n Edna’s Blend Agenda) how happy they were, however brief, with these compromises they made for each other? (The Man Who Grew Too Much) and krabappel’s relationship with rod and todd, did she have an effect on them? is it her influence whenever they speak out? (Bull-E) then again, we all know how impressionable those two are on a whim .. (Bart the Lover) and, goodness fucking gracious, so on and so forth. and they replaced his wives with a dog

sighs .. i can admit he can get Dead Wife Guy with it sometimes but i do think flanders is like .. a bit of a tragic man? i dunno, that “And I did something I hadn’t done in, I don’t know how long. God help me, I smiled.” in The Many Saints of Springfield lives sorrowfully in my brain. dude, after losing so much - his wives, his business he went bankrupt for (When Flanders Failed), his teaching job (Left Behind). like .. man. i dunno

i think it’s a little hard to watch a flanders-centric episode without wondering what it means for ned and his family on a deeper level, even for an episode as innocuous as Fland Canyon (what do you mean todd has night terrors that maude held him through? and that it’s todd’s nightmare of forgetting maude’s face that made him stop believing in christ?)

and, hey. if you’re really crazy enough, you could squint and make out some sort of aquatic sea creature motif with the Jellyfish Festival and song in A Star Is Born Again and his profound emotional processing in faith down in the hadal zone in O C’mon All Ye Faithful

regardless, all this to say. yeah .. i may be a bit of a nedhead :]

.

& btw .. he pulls, like, constantly. did you know this? like, constantly

[maevefiction]

Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 5

I dropped my fork. “I’m sorry, I must have heard that wrong, because it sounded like you just asked me to become your employee.” Luke’s brow lifted.

“No, you heard it absolutely correctly. I did ask you to come work for me. For Prosper. Initially as Tom’s social media manager, and when that’s squared away, as Prosper’s social media director.” So many things I wanted to include in my reply instantaneously flooded my brain, but, as usual, it was miles ahead of my mouth and lord knew what would come out if I spoke. I decided taking another bite of my cannoli while they fell back in sync was the best course of action. Chewing slowly, I looked back and forth from Tom to Luke, then swallowed. I chose my words carefully, hoping to not be offensive.  

“Luke, I’m incredibly appreciative, but normally my role is to provide plans for social media managers and directors, which they in turn implement while working one-on-one with their clients. Direct client management isn’t really something I’ve done in a number of years, and I’m not sure it’s something I’m interested in, or even capable of doing again.” He fished some papers out of his bag and pushed them across the table.

“Anne Rice says you’re capable.” I snatched them up, holding in my hand a copy of my resume as well as an email from Anne, singing my praises. It appeared to have been sent earlier in the day. I laughed softly. Client testimonials were usually all anyone cared about, but I kept my resume posted on my website just in case. I didn’t think anyone had ever even looked at it, never mind taken the time to contact my former employers.

“Nice detective work, Luke. I’m impressed. But not only was that more than ten years ago, Anne doesn’t count. She has to say nice things…she’s a friend of the family.” He looked puzzled. “My parents owned a home right down the street from her in the Garden District of New Orleans. When she got wind of my new business venture she volunteered to be my guinea pig.”

Tom leaned forward, scrutinizing me skeptically. “You’re from New Orleans?” I nodded and slipped into an exaggerated southern drawl.

“Born and raised. Even rode on some Mardi Gras floats.” I shrugged and switched back to my regular dialect. “I never had a strong accent, and I’ve lived in New York nearly as long as I did in New Orleans, so it’s faded almost completely.”

Luke pointed his index finger at me. “You should know that not only did she reply to my email immediately, she gave me her number so we could speak. We talked for a good twenty minutes, and she told me she credits you with all of her social media success, including the idea for ‘People of the Page’.  She said you were the only one who managed to help her not only understand, but embrace the technology that allowed her to form deeper connections with her legion of fans. And, she wishes she could have held on to you forever, but she didn’t want to keep you from your dream.” He paused for a moment. I made no comment. “According to your resume, you’re also proficient in website design, graphic design and photography, which are additional assets you’d bring to the company. I’m assuming you do your own site?”

“Correct.” I opened my laptop, started Firefox, pulled up Prosper’s website and grimaced. “Who does yours? It’s…it’s…how do I do put this nicely?” I raised my eyes skyward in thought. “Nope, I can’t. It’s awful. You’re redirecting people to your social media instead of having an actual site. It’s all lowercase, and the italic version of your font is hard to read. There’s a generic, single email as a means of contact. I don’t see a phone number. And that black background…I just can’t even.”

Luke began rubbing his temples. “Admittedly, we’re lacking in that area at the moment.” I snorted. “Maude, this is exactly why I need you. As far as PR goes, I’m exceptionally motivated and skilled.” Tom coughed. Luke shot him a chastising look. “Quiet, you. I lighted out on my own because I know I have something unique to offer…genuine bespoke, personal publicity. What I didn’t account for is the amount of time and effort the social media aspect of it would require. Events, interviews, red carpets, networking, I can handle all of those things with very minimal assistance.” He frowned.

“Unfortunately, I’ve found that all too often I put social media on the back burner because I can’t keep up with it, and as a result I feel like I’m not delivering what I promised to my clients. A few months back I determined it was time to seek outside help, but not a single applicant met my expectations. You, however, exceed my expectations.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Luke, I always appreciate an ego boost, but let’s keep in mind that I didn’t apply for anything.” I put an elbow on the table and rested my chin in my hand. “I did agree to an initial consultation, and since you attended my seminar you know where things are supposed to go from there. Translation – not here.” I leaned back in the chair and linked my hands behind my head. “But, this is where we’ve ended up, and I would be remiss if I didn’t entertain your offer, however briefly. So, what the hell. Lay down the details. Especially the ones pertaining to compensation and benefits.”

************************************************ I stood staring out at the horizon as the waves hit my shins, wiggling my toes in the wet sand underneath the water. Finally, beach. Warm, breezy, sunny, quiet, beautiful beach.

After learning that Tom had no prior knowledge of Luke’s plan to hire someone as his social media manager, I excused myself so they could speak in private for as long they deemed necessary. That’s what I told them, anyway. In truth, I really just needed to get the hell out of there so I could attempt to process all this insanity… which I knew wasn’t even remotely possible until I was alone. Part of me hoped that ‘as long as they deemed necessary’ turned into several hours. Or days.

Luke had proposed an initial annual salary of one hundred thousand dollars while I was working with Tom, increasing to one hundred and twenty-five thousand upon assuming the role of Social Media Director of Prosper. I’d be issued a corporate credit card and expense account, and the company would cover all travel expenses. I currently grossed around forty thousand more than that a year on my own, but being stuck covering all my own travel costs made it a negligible difference. When I factored in the lack of income stability that goes hand-in-hand with self-employment, I’d probably come out ahead financially if I opted to accept the position.

When I pressed him to define my duties and responsibilities, he’d shaken his head and imparted that I was the expert, not him, and therefore I should implement whatever strategies I would have included if I had drawn up a proposal. Though I’d technically be an employee, he preferred that I handle everything on my own and retain complete creative control for the duration of my time as Tom’s personal social media manager. We’d step back and re-evaluate things when I was ready to take the directorial helm.

My spot near the water was becoming popular, with several children running amok carting floats, balls and a slew of other things ankle biters enjoy that destroy peace and solitude for the rest of us. I was walking to the opposite side of the property from Luke’s room where it was less crowded when the gravity of my situation overwhelmed me completely and began to literally pull me down. I sank to my knees on the sand, then tried to shift to a sitting positon as gracefully as possible and without flashing everyone on the beach. Again.

I rested my ass on the back of my calves, listed to one side using my arm as a support, lifted my hips a little, extended both legs at the same time, then pushed myself upright. Not pretty, I’m sure, but I had managed to keep my legs closed. I crossed them at the ankle just to be safe and began to mull over my options. “Okay, Maude. Crunch time. Don’t fuck this up.”

When I first started out, I loved every minute of my ‘job’ and had a burning desire to share my knowledge. Maude Gallagher, LLC was everything I had aspired to do and be. I ate, slept and breathed it like oxygen. I never stopped working, always a phone call or an email away from jumping on a plane. But over the past few years, it seemed that my interest in my own company was steadily waning. While I constantly updated my lectures, the material remained essentially the same and what I used to find fun had become work. Every proposal I presented to a client was unique, but at its core it was identical to all the rest. I still put forth 100%, and my ‘phoning it in’ was akin to someone else’s ‘gave it my all’, but something inside me had changed. What was once my life had become just a job, and that prompted me to consider that I might have missed out on actually living along the way. I kept on truckin’, as they say, because the money was so damn good and the idea of having a boss was horrifying after so many years of answering to no one but myself.

Now here I was, sitting on a beach in Kaua’i, wearing a dress and trying to ignore the sand working its way between my thighs, faced with the daunting task of deciding what the fuck I wanted to do with my life…keep running in place, monotonous but comfortably familiar? Or race off in a new direction, intriguing but entirely foreign?

My proposal for Luke would have advised him to have a website created, marketing materials designed, the existing social media accounts revamped and new platforms established with all of them monitored intensely. I also thought it best that Tom have his own photographer/videographer who’d travel with him to shoot on set, at events and in ‘normal’ situations when deemed permissible. He would have had to hire three or more individuals to meet these specifications, but if I signed on he’d only need me. When I thought of all the types of work involved, how it would be different every single day, that I could be creative again…there was no way I could deny that it sounded pretty fucking spectacular. But something was holding me back, making me hesitate instead of screaming ‘yes, I’ll take it!’…and that something was Tom. Though we’d just met a few short hours ago and I didn’t know him at all, I felt…well, I had no idea what it was, only that is was THERE and that it scared the living shit out of me.

************************************************ I was picking up handfuls of sand and watching it sift through my fingers over and over again when I noticed the long shadow to my left, growing ever closer. Khaki cargo pants followed. I looked up…and up…and up. The sun was almost directly behind us, bathing him in an ethereal glow. So, so beautiful. I licked my lips and wished he’d lose the T-shirt already. He squatted beside me, elbows on his knees.

“Hi.” The corner of his mouth curled in a half smile.

“Hey.” I wiped the remaining bits of sand on my dress. He gestured towards the ground.

“May I?” I nodded. He sat, crossing his legs Indian style, which I wouldn’t have believed possible if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. “Luke and I just finished chatting.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks for coming to let me know.” I started to get up, but he put a hand on my shoulder to stop me.

“I…erm…there are a few things I’d like to say before you go back to see him. If you don’t mind hearing me out, that is.” I shook my head.

“Nope. I don’t mind at all.” He ran his hands through his hair and met my gaze.

“Thank you, Maude.” He swallowed. It crossed my mind that he appeared nervous, but I dismissed it because I didn’t want to consider what that meant. I frowned, turning to look towards the ocean. I heard him inhale deeply.

“First, I want to apologize for losing control of my emotions and acting like a tit. My comment about social media being a waste of time and effort and doing nothing but spreading hate was uncalled for, and I in no way meant to devalue you or your work. All of the feelings I entombed broke loose and I’m so very sorry you had to bear witness to my little crackup.” I turned to look at him and patted his knee.

“No worries. Everybody loses their shit to some degree at one point or another.” He pointed at me, brow raised. “Yes, even me. But really, this was nothing. I once had a client scream ‘this mother fucking social media bullshit has ruined my fucking career and my cunt of a wife fucking left me and now I’m going to have to pay her a fuck ton of alimony and it’s all your fault, you stupid fucking fat piece of shit’ in my face.” Tom’s mouth was closed so tightly his lips were a tiny, thin line. “He was so inept that he accidentally posted a photo of his girlfriend sucking his cock across all his accounts instead of sending it directly to her phone. Best part was that he took the shot in the mirror so his face was clearly visible.”

He put his hand on mine. “Tell me who it was and I’ll happily beat the living shit out of him.”

“Thanks, but not necessary. I handled it. By slapping him three times. And telling him that if I ever heard even a whisper of him saying another derogatory thing about me I’d hunt him down, rip his nuts off with my bare hands and feed them to him for dinner.”

Tom’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “You did no such thing.” I laughed.

“Oh, but I did. And then I fired his sorry ass. And then his band fired his sorry ass. Last I heard he was broke and filing for bankruptcy. Karma, Thomas. She is indeed a wicked bitch.” Before I knew what was happening he leaned in and enveloped me in an embrace. Time came to a grinding halt and I was frozen in place. He rubbed my back for a moment and released me before I even had a chance to hug him back. He remained close, his face only inches from mine.

“Maude, you are an amazing woman. And absolutely beautiful.” I blinked. It was the only thing I was physically capable of doing. I considered telling him that being called fat was a common occurrence for me, though it did happen less now that I was a size 14 instead of a 24…and that it really never got under my skin. Because, fuck that. I had never been lacking in the self-esteem department no matter what the scale said. Or my mother said. I had just come to the conclusion that I’d save that particular tidbit for you know, never, when I felt something under my chin. It was Tom’s hand.

“Shit, sorry, I got lost there for a bit. Woolgathering.” He smirked as he slid his fingers and thumb along my jaw and slowly backed away. He put his hand over his heart.

“Second on my list of things to say… I’m afraid I have a confession to make.” I made a get on with it motion with my right hand. “Earlier, at Talk Story, my requesting you specifically to assist me may not have been entirely a happenstance of fate.” I raised an eyebrow.

“When I walked in, the desk was completely deserted so I wandered off to see if I could locate someone to help me. After coming out of a side room I glanced back at the desk, saw the lovely girls in their Loki shirts, realized they were all staff members, and admittedly panicked a bit. Not because they were fans, but because I had very little time and I knew they’d want a few moments with me and I just couldn’t squeeze it in. I’d worn the ugly shirt and cap so people would be less apt to recognize me for that very reason.”

I poked him in the chest. “You know you have to go back there, don’t you? That adorable girl Alani will die of heartbreak knowing that you were in the store and she didn’t get to meet you.” He grinned.

“I absolutely will. And I’ll ask for her by name. But, on with my confession. So, there I was, caught like the proverbial deer in headlights. And then I saw…you. You had two books in one hand, and a several spread out on a table. I heard your phone alarm go off, and I saw your lips move but couldn’t quite make out what you were saying. I watched you gather them up as if they were precious treasures, and I sneakily followed you as you returned them gently to their proper places. I saw someone with a very obvious love for books, who happened to be a gorgeous woman, a ray of light shining through the early morning fog.  It seemed logical that you were an employee, or perhaps the owner, but…here’s the confession part… I honestly didn’t care whether you were or not. I just had to meet you, and my book reservation was the perfect cover story in the event my logic was flawed. I hesitated when I was finally directly behind you, and when you turned around I almost lost my nerve, but when you looked into my eyes I knew it was now or never. ” He took a deep breath, and I noticed that his hands were shaking slightly. I reached out and took one in mine.

“I thought you may have recognized me, and was waiting for you to out me. I really was. Instead, you marched up to that desk, got my book and brought it to me even though you didn’t actually work there. You paid for the damn thing. And when you called me Indy, the fact that you not only picked up the reference but played along…” He shook his head and put his free hand on top of mine, sandwiching it between both of his.

“Which brings me to the third thing on my list of things to say. And it’s the last. On the street, when I said I wanted to find out who you were, and that I had never wanted to discover anything else quite so badly? I meant that, Maude. All the way down to the depths of my very soul.” I was speechless. Completely, utterly without words. He leaned in to meet my gaze.

“I don’t understand why, or how, or what the fuck it is exactly that I’m feeling…but what I AM certain of is that I’ve never felt it before and it’s glorious and incredible and terrifying all at once. And whether you decide to take the job or not, I still want to KNOW you, Maude. I NEED to know you.”

I smirked devilishly, hoping to add some levity to the situation so I wouldn’t totally freak the fuck out.

“Like, biblically?”

He threw back his head, laughing so loudly people down the beach turned to look our way. I started giggling, which turned into guffawing, and then the snorting started. He laughed even harder and soon enough we were both weeping and holding our sides, trying to catch our breath. I was wiping the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand when he whispered in my ear.

“Yes, Maude. Biblically. As often as humanly possible, preferably.” He pulled back so he could see my face, trying to analyze my expression to determine what I was thinking. I smiled softly.

“I want to know you too, Tom. In every way imaginable.” He grinned, then stood, offering me a hand up. I took it. “Let’s go see a man about a job, shall we?”

************************************************ Luke was overjoyed at my acceptance of his offer and after we all had a quick dinner he broke out the bottle of champagne he’d ordered. He placed a glass in front of me and began to pour. I held up my hand in protest.

“No thank you…none for me, please.” He cocked his head to the side. “Do you have any tea lying around? I’d love a cup if you do.” He went off to see what was in the kitchenette. Tom was pacing around outside, phone up to his ear, his free hand gesturing wildly. He’d just gotten word that Michael Keaton and J. K. Simmons had pulled out of Skull Island. I saw him tap the end call button and he walked back into the room just as Luke came in to tell me he hadn’t had any luck finding me some tea. He set the phone on the table.

“Well, it looks like the shoot’s been postponed until early 2016.” Luke shrugged.

“It happens, Tom. I wasn’t thrilled with either of them being cast, to be honest.” Tom sighed, then grinned at me.

“On the bright side, this gives us lots of time to get things up and running on the social media front.” I yawned. We still had a ton of details to work out as far as how we were going to proceed, but I was exhausted and needed some time alone to get in the zone for my two long days of seminars. Which would be my last, at least for a while. Knowing that felt…delightful, as much as it pained me to admit it.

“Gentlemen, I hate to be a party pooper, but I have two insane days coming up and need some rest so I don’t muck things up too badly.” They both awwweeed but I got up from my chair anyway, slinging my bag over my shoulder and picking up my shoes. “We’re still on for the museum’s hula class at five on Wednesday?”  

They nodded, and Tom rose from his chair, grinning like a fool. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. May I walk you to your room?”

I rolled my eyes. “If you must.”

He took my elbow and walked me to the door. “Oh, I must.”

I waved at Luke. “Goodnight, Luke…and thank you. If you need something, call.”

“Goodnight, Maude. And thank you. This is a game changer for Prosper, and I appreciate you being on board. I couldn’t make it happen otherwise.” He closed the door behind us.

Tom stopped out in the hallway. “Where is your room, exactly?” I headed for the stairs. We walked in silence, just basking in each others presence. I stopped in front of my room, found my keycard in my bag and opened the door. He pointed to the number.

“Oh, 203…you’re right above Luke.” I just stood there and watched his face, waiting for it to dawn on him. When it finally did, his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, finally spluttering “Right above. Luke. Your room. Is.”

It was my turn to grin like a fool. “Yes, yes it is. If you take another run in the morning you may want to look up periodically. You never know, I just might forget to close the balcony doors again.”