Conrad Shmonrad

     I can not believe this. The disrespect. The pure apathy. A man died, and Mr. Maitland wants to sweep it under the sheet and then build on top of it a carnival to distract the masses. That carnival is Conrad, days after Mr. Evans died.   I used to care about ghosts and spirits but times have changed. Everyone used to care about spirits, but now Mr. Maitland is worried about the residents of the Maitland, not because it was a traumatic experience, but because he's worried about his bottom line. Depressed people might move to be less sad and moving people means less $$$ for Mr. "Moneybags" Maitland. So, what does Maitland do? Does he honor the death with a memorial? No. He hires another pandering-country-artist to come in and distract the residents. AND THE WORST PART IS: IT'S WORKING. People are excited to distract their goldfish-like attention spans. There is a real murmur of excitement in the Maitland for the concert.  Mr. Maitland has turned a conversation that should be about how a man died in HIS parking garage, where he could culpable for negligence, and turned it into a celebration.
      The worst part is, when I scheduled a haul to the Maitland on my way back from Vegas, I unknowingly picked up the trailer carrying the stage and set for the concert. I am an accessory to to this serial distraction of the masses happening here in the Maitland. In my trailer is Conrad's guitar, I am to give the guitar to Friedrich. It would be a shame if something happened to it.... But no. That is not my job. That guitar alone is worth more than my rent for years. They would know that I was the last person responsible and the guitar would ultimately be my liability. But, I'll keep them waiting.
 I might stop off at the rest stop and suddenly feel inspired to paint, I'll paint a chalky portrait of Conrad, with the word SOMA* stamped across his face. Then he'll finally look like the pill he is.


*This might be worth a Google, you sheep.