They gave me a cardboard sign with a giant five-dollar bill on it. They gave me a stick-on beard that itched my face hours after I took it off. They gave me a black wool suit and a top hat. To promote this bonanza of savings they stuck me outside of the store dressed like Lincoln. Basically the plastic crap that usually went for ten dollars was marked down to five. I was hired to help promote their $5 Deal Daze. Last year I spent five soul-sucking weeks working for Luxury Souvenirs. “Plus,” Frank says, and a smile breaks across his face, and I know exactly where this is going. “Flipping burgers? Cutting some old lady’s lawn? What’s that gonna pay? Out here, I make upwards of two-hundred a day.” I think: You haven’t sent me so much as a birthday card in the last four years. “You can’t just spend the summer sponging off me,” he says. “You’re going to work with me on the boulevard.”
Islide the biggest idiot free#
Besides, now you’re free to join the family business.” “Your mother likes to think of herself as particular,” he says. “Mom’s just got more than she can deal with right now.”įrank waves this off. “So,” Frank says in between bites of his burrito, “your mom kicked you out huh? It’s okay. I’m not sure of the advertising intent, but, to me, it suggests that their burritos are made with donkey meat.
Benny’s a donkey with a burrito for a body: four legs, a head, and a tail sticking out of a tortilla tube. The walls of the Burrito Burro are papered with pictures of their mascot. “That’s how you get your ass kicked,” Frank says. Suddenly, you’re just some weirdo in an ill-fitting Toys R’ Us costume. He says the further you get away from Hollywood Boulevard, the faster the context and environment break down. He says a lot of the costumed characters do. Frank likes to stay on the boulevard when he’s working. As if he hasn’t noticed I’ve been standing beside him for the last thirty seconds, which is probably because he hasn’t. So, yeah, this should be an invaluable experience.įrank zips up his fanny pack and then stares at me as if I’ve just materialized there with my suitcase and backpack.
It turns out that Brand Management and Public Relations means Frank stands on Hollywood Boulevard dressed like Superman, and poses for pictures with tourists for tips. “Oh, now, what was it that he told me? Something about Brand Management and Public Relations.” Mom winced slightly like she does when trying to think. Since their divorce my father has bounced around from one hair-brained scheme to the next, usually leaving behind a trail of failed businesses and outstanding debts. “And what is Frank up to nowadays?” I said. It will have to look magnificent to distract from the screaming baby that is my 2.2 GPA. “That kind of experience will look good on a college application.” “You can always help your father with his latest business venture,” Mom said.
Watching the horizon of planes waiting to land at LAX. “What am I supposed to do with Frank all summer? What about my friends?” I asked, hoping Mom wouldn’t mention the fact that I spend most nights sitting alone on the roof, watching the lights of the city. She and Richard thought that with the chaos of all of the visiting relatives, and the needs of the baby, my spending the summer with Frank might be best for everyone. Three days ago my mom and her new husband had a baby. Then Frank balls up the money and sticks it in the fanny pack he keeps hidden beneath his cape. “I pick up their little piglet and the best they can do is a dollar. “A dollar?” Frank says in lieu of a greeting. He places the girl on his shoulder, squares his jaw, and points a fist to the sky. In another Frank picks up their daughter, a chubby blonde in pink overalls. In one, Frank wraps an arm around the wife, while flexing the other so his bicep bulges against the blue fabric of his suit. There are few tourists on the boulevard at this time of day, but soon a family of three stops to admire Frank. He’s got actual muscles beneath his suit, unlike most of the losers out here in their Halloween costumes with the drawn-on pecs, and the injection-molded abs. He’s striking the classic pose – chest out, hands fisted on his hips – and as much as I hate to admit it, he looks pretty good.
At noon I climb out of the mouth of the Hollywood/Highland metro station just in time to see the 212 bus thunder past, and Frank’s cape billow in its wake.
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