A Million Versions of Right (33 page)

The prose was remarkably dense and largely nonsensical. Many lines had to be read more than 80 times before even the slightest meaning was revealed. After 10 hours, Amanda was disheartened to find she had only progressed six pages and still had no idea why Herman Friars was cumming. Her slow eyes had really copped a workout in the last few days, so she decided now would be the right time to use her bookmark. Picking it up carefully from the coffee table, trying her best to remember the recommended grip, she placed it into the book. Amanda shook as she began to close it, reminding herself several times that the instructions promised her place would be maintained. When the book was completely shut, she crossed herself and retired to bed, body unfed and exhausted.

Amanda awoke in high spirits. ‘On Why I’m Cumming’ sat on the coffee table beckoning her. It seemed inconceivable that she would soon pick up the book and continue exactly where she left off.

The book felt majestic in her grip. The bookmark jutted out, doing its job tirelessly.
You’ve been here all night, just holding my place. I love you
. She opened the book where the bookmark suggested and was immediately struck by confusion.
No, this doesn’t look at all correct. I hadn’t progressed this far, not even close
. Amanda was staring in horror at page 190, knowing full well that she barely managed 10 pages the day before.
Is it possible that I just lost track of time?
After muddling her way through several passages it was obvious the bookmark had failed. Tears clogged her eyes and she fell backward, sobbing wretchedly. She had pinned her hopes so completely on the success of the bookmark that there was no fallback.

* * * * *

Harpies Knee was a resounding failure but it didn’t stop Newlunge Cracklebang from persevering. Dozens more bookmark prototypes were developed at unthinkable costs but with each new prototype, they arrived closer to one that worked. Word of their ambitious project spread throughout the scientific community and at last the Doodlewanky controversy faded from view.

The number of lives lost during the bookmark’s development tormented Cracklebang but with each new fatality, his will to succeed only increased. He wasn’t having so many good men die for nothing. And so it was, seven years after the first prototype, a bookmark called ‘The Wrinkly Slit’ was trailed with overwhelmingly positive results. Cracklebang and the seven surviving members of his team rejoiced and the world’s media was instantly alerted.

Cracklebang was regarded a hero on an international level. He was awarded the annual P.I.S.S award (Performance in Scientific Studies) which he dedicated to the memory of the good men and women who died for the dream. Production on commercial bookmarks began immediately.

The technology associated with the first generation bookmarks was exceedingly expensive. The first batch came off the production line with a price tag of $120 000 ensuring that only the most affluent individuals could afford to possess one. They were snapped up surprisingly fast by the military, who refused to divulge their intended use for the bookmarks.

Within two years, the cost of bookmarks came down to a more manageable $30 000 and they finally started to filter into family homes and schools. The impact was immediate but widened the divide between social classes – the price still being well beyond the means of lower income families.

* * * * *

Penny grew very worried about Amanda who hadn’t been to work in nearly a month. She desperately wanted to give Amanda the opportunity to enjoy the bookmark alone but so much time had passed that the worry took over. She paid Amanda a visit that night.

When her door knocks went unanswered at first, it only intensified her concern.

“C’mon Amanda, I know you’re in there. It’s Penny. Please open the door.”

After 40 minutes of unwavering pleading, Amanda finally opened up. Her eyes were puffed shut from the constant tears.

“Oh no!” said Penny as she wrapped her arms around Amanda. “You poor thing. What’s happened?

“It’s the bookmark. I can’t get it to work,” sobbed Amanda.

“Let’s have a look at it. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Penny led Amanda back into the house and sat her on the couch. Penny’s presence provoked a tiny smile on Amanda’s face, the first in days.

“Now, tell me what the problem is?”

Amanda picked up the book in order to demonstrate. “It’s simple really. I insert the bookmark as specified in the instructions and when I open up where the bookmark suggests, the page is always wrong. I’ve tried hundreds of times but it’s beyond my capabilities. I can’t work, I can’t sleep and small pieces of my back have fallen off.”

Penny’s eyebrow cocked in suspicion. “That doesn’t sound right. Give it here, let me have a look.”

Amanda handed the book to Penny who found a page and quickly slid the bookmark in. She waited a few seconds before reopening the book. Sure enough, the page was wildly wrong.

“I don’t get it,” she said, still staring at the page. “Amanda, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with your method. I think it’s the bookmark itself. It simply doesn’t work.”

A tiny burst of relief erupted in Amanda. For the first time she had a glimmer of hope. Maybe it wasn’t her after all. She had just obtained a faulty bookmark.   

“What can we do?” asked Amanda, “I can’t afford to buy another one.”

“Buy another?” scoffed Penny. “Screw that! We’re marching over to Vincent’s and getting a replacement right now. You’re not spending a cent more.”

“Do you think he’ll do it?”

“He’d better or he’ll be wearing my fist!”

Amanda grinned and wrapped her arms around Penny. We sure
hug a lot
, Penny thought.

* * * * *

The high cost of bookmarks caused an underground bootlegging movement. Wildly unpredictable replicas found their way onto the market boasting an irresistible price tag. Underground bookmarks didn’t exhibit the same level of craftsmanship and weren’t subjected to the barrage of safety testing of their commercial counterparts.

Like anything though, the bootlegging technique was honed and achieved a level of stability comparable to the commercially produced product. The practice was still against the law but was no longer heavily enforced. An unspoken agreement that the benefit of bookmarks outweighed the legality permeated most cities where bootlegging took place. As long as injury didn’t occur, bootleggers were no longer prosecuted.

* * * * *

“Vincent! Open up!” screamed Penny as she pounded the door.

The passion in Penny’s voice intimidated Amanda but she definitely appreciated having her as an ally. A tired looking Vincent eventually opened, wiping his eyes and yawning like a whore on Tuesday.

“What the hell! You ladies woke me,” he said with irritation.

“I don’t care! You have some explaining to do. What’s with the bad gear, Vincent?”

Vincent looked deeply offended. “What!? Bad gear? You gotta be shitting me. I ain’t never given out bad gear in my life.”

“Yeah? Well explain this!” Penny snatched the bookmark from Amanda’s hands and waved it in front of Vincent’s nose.

Vincent dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “I don’t got time for this shit right now. Why don’t you girls run along?”

Penny pushed past Vincent in a huff, dragging Amanda behind.

“Hey bitch! Get outta my house!”

“We’ll get out when you give Amanda a replacement!”

“I ain’t giving anyone shit!”

Penny stormed over to Vincent’s rather stark bookcase and pulled out a book about pens. She slammed the book and bookmark down on the kitchen counter.

“There, try it for yourself! Your shit doesn’t work!”

Vincent eyed the two ladies suspiciously.
What are they trying to pull?
He thought. Tentatively he picked up the book and flicked to a random page.

“Remember to pay attention to the page number,” yelled Penny.

“Alright, alright. I’m not an idiot.”

Vincent placed the book mark at roughly the half way point, paying attention to the page numbers; 340 - 341. He let it sit for a while before opening it again at the marked page. He couldn’t believe what he saw. He had been thrown back to page 22 - 23…

The history of the bookmark is an admittedly complex one. Although the perfect design hasn’t yet been achieved, developments continue to occur at a remarkable pace. The price continues to plummet and more families are able to utilise one. Government initiatives have been created to ensure lower income families are given the chance to own one. It can only be assumed that in the next five years, bookmarks will achieve the ubiquity they so deeply deserve.

It’s important to recognise the sacrifices that were an unfortunate by-product on the road to the bookmark. From the early days of Bookbirds to the serendipitous discovery by Doodlewanky, the road has been plagued with difficulty. Maybe now, as the bookmark moves ever closer toward perfection, we can appreciate exactly how we got here.

* * * * *

…“What is this shit?” Vincent asked in amazement.

“What did we fucking tell you?” Penny retorted. “Now go get a replacement for Amanda here and prove to us that it works before we leave.”

Vincent was deeply disturbed. He had never sold bad gear before and it sickened him. His eyes darted around the room wildly, as if searching for an easy solution.

“Well?” asked the increasingly impatient Penny.

“Sorry, no refunds,” screamed Vincent before diving dramatically from his first storey window. He died upon impact.

Amanda slumped forward and with tear varnished eyes said, “I just want to read a book and finally reach the end.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Matthew Revert is absurdity’s whore. His writing explores the lack of sense in all things and plays with the notion that nothing is ultimately wrong or right. He is most comfortable in the gutter and sees profound things in filthy places.

His first book A Million Versions of Right was published by LegumeMan Books in 2009.

He is currently hard at work on his second and third: The Tumours Made Me Interesting and Stealing Fred Savage.

He can be contacted here:[email protected]

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