I woke up this morning at around 5:00 a.m. and didn’t get back to sleep for about 2 hours. I kind of enjoyed just laying in be and thinking while it was still quiet out and light was just starting to filter in through the blinds. One of the things that crossed my mind was Conan O’Brien’s premiere on TBS the other night. I’m not a huge fan of his, but it inspired this little story about Jay’s reaction.

It was cool in the bunker. Jay pulled his silk robe closer to his body, enjoying the slide of the material against his skin. Somewhere in the sprawling mansion above him, he knew his wife searched for him. They were supposed to leave for the charity golf tournament an hour ago, but he needed to watch one more time.
On the two big screen televisions situated in front of him were the images that had revealed to him his demise. Freeze framed before him were the images from both his and Conan’s show at exactly 11:45 on Monday night. On one screen, Conan’s eyes were screwed shut, his mouth agape with ecstasy as his hands gripped an electric guitar with the ease of a rock star. Jack White’s face rested near Conan’s shoulder, his face contorted mid-croon as he sang into the lanky ginger’s ear. On the other screen, Jay saw himself, sitting at his desk pointing at a Photoshopped picture of a squirrel. His face was slack, resigned.
He heaved a sigh and leaned back in his chair, resting his chin on his chest.
“Cesar,” he called quietly.
The compact Central American man emerged from behind one of the luxury cars flanking Jay’s seat. His fleet of expensive toys required an army of undocumented workers, and sometimes they bought him more pleasure than the automobiles themselves.
Jay hit the play button on one of his remotes, and the strains of Conan and Jack wailing “Twenty Flight Rock” echoed off of the concrete surfaces of the underground garage. Jay’s last refuge.
“Dance for me, Cesar.”

I often write little scarps of things on my smartphone. I’ll try to start posting more of them here, so they aren’t lost forever when my phone inevitable conks out.

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