old character sketch

“Look at that freak!” The children yelped. “Look at THE freak!”
Solemnly, the overweight man dressed up in a large, smiling hot dog costume turns. His thoughts cycle through his cynical mind like a rusty merry-go round. Acknowledge the children. Wear your silly costume with pride. Do a funny dance. Get these damn kids to buy a shitty hot dog from the fine wiener establishment behind you. Closing time is at five. Then you can get high. With a smile, Jeffrey suppresses any urge to smack the children and opted to wave politely instead. He then continued to trudge along the freshly paved side walk, back and forth, tracing and retracting the same steps he takes every day from nine to five. In his hands he cradled colorful coupons, promising discounts and free sodas. Jeffrey could barely see out of the eye-holes of his costume. The cars and pedestrians blur into a sea of color as they pass him. His last trip of LSD had left him hazy.
As Geoff shuffled in front of Stan’s Hot Dog Emporium, he observed the exchange of words between Frank, the loyal trusty mail carrier, and the sweet elderly Mrs. Harper, who was the organist at church. Frank’s thunderous voice boomed over Mrs. Harper’s quiet tones.
“Good afternoon Mrs. Harper, don’t you look lovely........I’m fine, thank you………How’s little Jeanine? I heard she did a fabulous job at her piano recital last week! Isn’t that just swell……..Why yes, the weather is quite stunning today…….oh don’t fret, this sunshine should stay next week for our Town Fair! I ought to hurry along now……..Give my best to the family! So long Mrs. Harper!”
As the merry mail carrier trotted away, Geoff couldn’t stop the wave of jealously that flooded over him. The hot-dog man wished that people would smile warmly at him and engage in small talk. Maybe if he started telling people that they “look lovely,” or develop a Colgate smile, things would be different. Maybe then people wouldn’t point and laugh at him. Maybe then he wouldn’t be shunned from their picture perfect society. Geoff took a breath and surveyed the town called Brighton, the town that was slowly suffocating him.
Across the street from the hot dog restaurant was the giant supermarket, flooded with “lovely” housewives buying roast beef. Next door was the bakery, packed with fresh desserts and customers who never gained any weight, but obnoxiously maintained their trim waist size, despite their frequent consumption of desserts. But of course, if Geoff even looked at a cookie, he gained twenty more pounds. Displayed in the front windows were delicious treats, stacked up and coated with a generous glaze of frosting or powdered sugar. Oversized donuts, double layer cakes, cookies with huge, obnoxious smiles painted on them lined the shelves. Each dessert was baked to a such a degree of perfection that it was slightly sickening, much like this town. A cardboard sign was propped up next to the door. In perfect print, the sign read: Every Monday 10% of Sales Go Towards Children’s Hospital! Buy a treat- MAKE A DIFFERENCE! There is no sweeter deal than that!” Geoff scoffed at the sign. As if the donations of one puny bakery would really rid the world of disease and save dying children.
Geoff shifted uncomfortably in his large, cumbersome costume. It hung awkwardly off of his large frame. The heavy fabric was itchy and made him sweat profusely. Wiping the beads of perspiration from his forehead, Geoff longed from his shift to be over. Then, he could walk twelve blocks to his apartment on the outskirts of town, feed his cat, and call his dealer, who lived a few towns over. To cap the night off, Geoff will eat a bowl of stale Captain Crunch and smoke a bowl of the earth’s finest plant. By nine, Geoff will be lulled asleep on his ratty couch, listening to the hum of the townspeople watch their crime shows and tuck their children into bed.
As the clock strikes five, Geoff has already clocked out and started his journey home in his bulky hot dog costume, since the monstrosity of a uniform doesn’t fit in the storage closet. As Geoff shuffled home, he tried to make eye contact with all the people he passes, as they make their way to the church prayer group at 5:30. Please, Geoff begged silently. Just give me a smile Won’t you share a little sunshine with me? But the citizens of Brighton offer him an emotionless face.
“There goes that freak,” they all whisper among themselves. “There goes THE freak.”