Billboard Man Wore a Bowler Hat [Story #4]

Thank you for subscribing to the Bitter Blog.

Billboard Man wore a bowler hat and loose-fitting black slacks because that’s what they told him to wear. He walked uphill, grasping a leather attaché case and watching images swim in and out of his vision. Long-lasting aloe lotion. A high-tech raincoat. Whiskey snifters. A trailer for Shoot-Em-Up III: The Taming.

Billboard Man made a mental note to buy the lotion. The note was recorded and marked with a timer that would alert him after work.

He continued walking uphill. He noticed someone pass him on the right. A woman. She wore violet jeans and a billowy sweater. Last season’s colors, Billboard Man noted. He returned to the stream of goods and services that slipped past his eyes.

At the top of the hill, a covered bus stop waited. The woman in the billowy sweater was there; she glanced over to Billboard Man and made a clucking sound with her tongue.

“Still watching the stream, eh? I was addicted too. Gave that shit up last year. Wasn’t easy.”

Billboard Man blinked at the woman. An ad for Herbal Flurry shampoo exited his vision. “You quit the stream?” His voice quavered; he looked around to make sure no one was listening. “But everyone’s on the stream. It’s…it’s unpatriotic to get off it.”

Ms. Violet Jeans shook her head. “Unpatriotic, my ass. I feel one-hundred percent better after purging my system of that thing.”

Eyes still wide, Billboard Man leaned forward, an ad for Dandy Brand Cat Food, now available in snack pouches! leaned with him. “But weren’t you scared? Didn’t you worry about what you might be missing?” He shot her an incredulous look. “Didn’t you wonder what you’d become?”

“I did. And yes, it was scary at first, but I’ll never go back to the stream. You should give it a shot.”

***

That night, Billboard Man rubbed his hands down with new aloe lotion and sat back in his leather armchair. A measure of whiskey sat on the table beside him, sitting quietly in a stylish snifter glass. Billboard Man picked up the snifter glass, gave the liquid a swirl. “Maybe I should unplug. For just a while. What could it hurt?”

He took a deep breath and disconnected from the stream. The images zipped out of his vision and Billboard Man sat, staring at the wall, growing accustomed to the dead air. He arose, walked to his bathroom, and turned on a light.

An unfamiliar face stared back at him. It was pink and smooth, like a doll. He began tracing the face in the mirror, starting with the eyes and finishing with the mouth. The silence around him was heavy and itchy, like the wool sweater he once tolerated during the two months it was in fashion. He couldn’t stand the quiet.

Billboard Man ran back to his easy chair and snifter of whiskey. He sat down; he plugged in. The chatter of advertisements filled his ears; a riot of colors bombarded his vision. He sighed and took a drink.

“Maybe tomorrow I’ll unplug,” he said to his whiskey glass. “Maybe tomorrow.”