Shortchanged

Darkness overwhelmed the new comer.  He thought he was alone until his green eyes adjusted to the absence of light.  That was when he saw the worn and wrinkled face of a man who stared back at him with slight interest. 

“My friends call me Frank.  At least that’s what I’d tell them to call me if I had any,” the stranger chuckled, “There’s plenty of people who’d like a piece of me.  Too bad there’s not enough to go around.  I don’t like lazy people.  If you want my reassurance you’ve got to earn it.” 

“Well…uh…Frank… m-my name is George,” said George, “Where am I?”

“Here,” the slightly amused Frank answered blatantly. 

“Gee thanks for clearing that up for me," George retorted with a strong dose of sarcasm. “Seriously though, what is this place?  Are we prisoners?”  He was taken aback when Frank began to laugh at his question. 

“Ha! Prisoners,” the old fool fell into hysterics as George watched he began to question the sanity of  the aged chum, whose friends (if he had any) called him Frank.  Then abruptly, with the most somber seriousness, he leaned in and asked the now frighten and confused bystander, “Son,” he began solemnly, “do you know why we are here?”  George was too dumbfounded to offer any explanation even if he did have a reasonable one.  So Frank carried on, “You and I aren’t so different.  Although – no offence– I am worth much more than you.  They accuse us of being the root of all evil.  But still, people love us.  And, dare I say, some even worship us.”  Now, humble as he was, George finally broke his silence with a tender phrase,

“I, sir, trust in God!”

“Don’t we all,” Frank questioned rhetorically before continuing, “Nevertheless, you and I and the rest of us, we make the world go ‘round.  Many people say that we don’t matter but they still want us.  As a matter of fact in this society they need us.”  The old coot’s mouth contorted into a disfigure that was intentionally supposed to be a grin, “So Bill, you think you’re a prisoner?  Well son,” Frank began to chuckle again at his private inside joke, “the truth is… we’re being saved!”  With that, he burst into another, this time a more horrifying, condition of crazed laughter. 

“You’re a lunatic!” But, George, to his own disbelief, found himself believing Frank’s vivaciously unconventional speech.

“Call me what you will but I’d bet you that I’ve got 100 times more sense than you.”

         Time passed.  How much exactly remains a question.  The record of time, like other manmade schemes such as money, truly has no significance until humans decide that it should.  They do so in honest attempts to create order; but, ultimately, they generate chaos.  Nevertheless, as time went on George grew to respect Frank and saw him as the most ingenious maniac he had ever met.  To an even greater surprise the two became what one would call friends.  Additionally, George learned that they were not alone.  There were others like himself who, as Frank would say were being “saved.” 

There was Alex who was shockingly more pompous than Frank. 

“I’m a 10,” he would brag arrogantly, “look at me I’m ripped.”  George was envious of Alex for many reasons: not only was he confident and strikingly handsome but he could also remember his life before the darkness which in George’s case was a total blur.  However, Frank argued that Alex exaggerated his stories of how he got his battle wounds and the strange tattoo of a building on his back. 

“Buck, you’ve got three eyes,” Frank would say, “and you still can’t see that he’s a fake.”  By now, George had grown use to the random names Frank called him by and he also had given up trying to make sense of some of his eccentric pal’s peculiar ideas. 

Eventually, George was convinced that Alex was counterfeit but he remained certain that someone else fell for the phony’s deception.  She was known by the guys as the Golden Girl.  The moment she glanced over her shoulder at him she purely shined with her radiance; and George, generally an unyielding realist, became a believer in love at first sight.  George wanted nothing more that to walk up to her and complement her on her beautiful gold hair or to simply share an exchange of words.  But a certain crucial aspect stood in his way; he could not pronounce her name and, on top of that, she did not speak English.  Alex could not properly enunciate her real name either but that did not stop him.  He would brag about himself endlessly while she politely smiled and nodded in silence. 

George was daydreaming pleasantly about the Golden Girl when he was interrupted by a meddlesome voice,

“Penny for your thought?”  It was Alex looking down at him with a smug look on his face.

“Oh…nothing,” George poorly attempted to fib.  Alex smirked at him calculatingly.

“So you were smiling for no reason,” Alex said, “You weren’t thinking about… the Golden Girl?”  George blushed and for once was grateful for the always reliable darkness.  But Alex knew he was right on the money and pressed on, “You know,” he hinted, “she’s right in your price range.”  That pushed George over the edge. 

“Saco….Shequa…Siggu…SHE is a lady.  And on top of that Soopi…Shija…SHE is a mother!” 

“Easy for you to say,” Alex snickered contentedly knowing he successfully it a nerve.  With that George, who was usually a civil individual, abandoned his normally proper means of settling disputes and began to brawl with Alex.  The two created havoc with their fighting and George shouted in pain when he felt something tear.  Just then, Frank stepped in to break them,

“We need change!” he insisted, “You must stop this fighting!”

“You’ll always be a single one!” Alex insulted George, “You’re practically worthless.  You’ve never even talked to her!  Even if you did, why would she take anything you say into account?”

“Because I love her!” George could tell his words were oozing with cheesiness but he could not tell a lie, “I’m not ashamed to admit it.  I’d tell Ssss-whatever her name is- I love her right now.” 

“Heads up,” warned Frank, “Here she comes now.”  George grew faint and felt his face turn a shade of green.

“Well lover boy,” persisted Alex, “here’s your chance.”  This was it.  George just had to say it.  She would simply smile and nod as he poured out his heart and soul in his confession of adoration.  Even with that, there was still a percentage of him that wished that she would understand him even though he knew that was not possible.           

“Sss…so...,” he decided it would probably be best to take it from the top, “I’m George…I don’t know your name but I do know that…,” He paused, for he was obligated to keep breathing, “I love you.”  He was overwhelmed with relief that quickly turned in shock when the Golden Girl did not smile and nod as he had expected.  Instead she responded in the clearest English dialect,

“Umm… my name is Sacagawea,” she smiled at him with both reassurance and fondness, “and I heard you the first time.”  With that, the newly acclaimed sweethearts and her baby shared a tender three way embrace.  But, in that same instant, the walls of their penitentiary began to part and they were all blinded by an awe-inspiring stream of light.  As his eyes adjusted he began to visualize everyone clearly.  Alex looked away refusing to make eye contact with George; then, for the first time, he visualized in capital letters a title across the narcissist’s chest that spelt HAMILTON.  Confused, George looked to his colleague Frank for answers but was shocked to find that his friend was balding!  Additionally, he noticed FRANKLIN written in the same spot as it was on Alex.  He looked down at himself and read in matching print WASHINGTON.  Suddenly everything began to add up but before he could finish his thought.  A giant hand grabbed him and pulled him away from everyone else.  He heard a booming far away voice taunt in a mocking tone,

“Careful, you cheapskate, some moths might fly out of that dusty wallet of yours.”

“No Sacagawea! Alex, please!” George pleaded desperately as he was lifted up away from his former prison which now felt like home, “Frank, help me!”  They all looked up at him and then at each other desperately.  Sacagawea’s eyes filled with tears,

“What can we do?” she cried.  Frank shrugged his shoulders and declared,

“Money talks.”