Almost Like in RealitybyNiceGymnosperm©
This is supposed to be a tribute to JukeboxEMCSA's stories.
There is absolutely no malicious intent behind any of this.
Robert sighed as he stared at the mess that was his bedroom. It had been three, maybe four weeks since he had last cleaned his flat.
If only he could be as successful a hypnotist as Paul McKenna...
He furrowed his brow. He hated Paul McKenna.
As he reached for the alarm clock, he shoved a pile of books and magazines aside and sneezed as his face was enveloped by the arising cloud of dust. Maybe even five weeks?
The only excuse he had for all this was that he had been too depressed to think about cleaning. His last hypnosis recording "Hypnotized By Hitler" hadn't sold so well. Not well at all to be honest. Apparently, people were not really fond of being lulled into a pleasant, dreamy state by the words:
"Your Führrrer commands you to rrrelax!"
Robert shook his head. Just where were all these Nazi fetishists when you needed them?
He had already had plans for a follow-up recording called "Hypnotized By Goebbels".
It was such a pity...Now all the hard practice of the perfect intonation of the sentence "Do you want ze total trrrance?" was useless.
Whatever, it couldn't go on like this, it was time to clean up.
Getting up from the bed, Robert stumbled over a couple of his pocket watches. He started by throwing some dirty clothes into the laundry basket and stashing some that could still be worn neatly in the closet, then he pulled a few empty pizza boxes from the top of his cupboard and a pendant out of an empty coffee cup. Various USB cables were taken from the office chair and shoved into a drawer, and Robert's heart almost leapt with joy as he retrieved his long lost metronome from under a mix of plastic bags and paper sheets.
Then he noticed his cell phone on the floor nearby. A few missed calls and one e-mail.
He decided to read the e-mail first.
Oh dear Flying Spaghetti Monster, please let it not be another troll mail...
Yesterday I bought a new steam iron. When I turned it on, it got hot very quickly. I could tell that it felt drawn to me right away. I was instantly convinced that my iron was a hot little tranceslut, so I tried hypnotizing it, but it's not responding. Tranceslut-iron doesn't want to obey :/.
Robert just facepalmed and closed the e-mail window so that he wouldn't have to look at the dreadful thing anymore.
The missed calls were all from his friend Thomas. It could have been worse. But what did he want now? Better call him back and get it done with so that he could go back to cleaning and sulking.
"Robert? Is that you? Where have you been man, I've been trying to call you!"
"I know you were trying to call me, I saw your missed calls. And I was at home."
Really, couldn't he ask any better questions?
"Don't tell me you're still pissed because of your Naz-"
"Yeah, yeah. Now why did you call?"
No matter how big a shame was, it was still always more hurtful and embarrassing if someone else brought it up. Robert had just realized that for the second time in about two minutes.
"So you are still pissed. Listen dude, you better get on youtube and watch some documentaries about war victims and other people who are worse off than you to make yourself feel better. That'll help, trust me. "
Just why was Robert talking to this idiot again?
"Thank you for your wise advice, Thomas. Believe me it is much appreciated. If this is all, I'll..."
"No, it isn't! You haven't even heard the reason I'm calling yet. Listen, I've got a mission for you. Alex's newest experiment has gone wrong and he wants you to fix it."
What, again? And he had already thought that the old crackpot had finally become sensible and stopped his "experiments".
Alex, or Alexander, was another hypnotist who had years ago served as Robert's inspiration and role model. They had met at a party of Thomas' friend's neighbor while him and Thomas had still been in college.
They arrived late and saw him surrounded by a crowd of people, mostly female, who gasped and giggled repeatedly as he told them one of his anecdotes.
Thomas had asked someone, and according to this person, the elegant gentleman in the tailor-made suit was considered 'A legend among hypnotists' and practically a celebrity.
In that particular moment, Robert had been struck with the vision that the man would suddenly whip out a pendant and say a few words, and within seconds, the entire room would fall quiet and the eyes of all those onlooking women would turn glassy. At his command, they would fall to their knees before him and start undressing him. He could see one woman unzip the man's fly and pull his already half-erect cock free, a moment later she was running her tongue slowly along its underside. Another woman was meanwhile unbuttoning his shirt in an almost reverent manner. All of a sudden, the man would look into Robert's eyes directly, and say something, and then Robert's mind would become as blank and empty as all of these women, a-a-and t-then...
Well okay, so maybe Robert still hadn't come to terms with the end of his fantasy quite yet. Nevertheless, it was the only time he could remember ever being so...fascinated by another guy.
Someone else had introduced them later that night, and that was how their friendship started...
Seeing Alex now though was like watching a bad sitcom. He had always had a habit of drinking too much alcohol and combined with a few other drugs (his motto was 'You only live once') he had grown a bit...well, senile over the years. Subsequently, he had started making mistakes during his hypnosis sessions. Small mistakes at first.
It would have been the proper time for him to retire, but the old fool found himself unable to stop. Due to his high reputation, his steady stream of clients didn't ebb off immediately which allowed Alex to screw up some more sessions, which in turn made him very depressed.
Yes, in fact, the most productive ideas he had nowadays were centered around combating depression.
Watching videos of miserable people in order to feel better? That was Alex's idea, definitely. Robert was convinced that Thomas couldn't have ideas like that. He was just too simple-minded to be depressed.
But since those videos didn't suffice, Alex had also started drinking even more...
And he kept on desperately trying to mend his mistakes by hypnotizing even more people who were always more confused and deranged after their session than before.
And even though costumers mostly avoided him now, there were still some unknowing people who from time to time wandered into the clutches of the "legendary hypnotist". Robert and Thomas called them "experiments" because it was never quite predictable how they would turn out after he was done with them.
He had to drive to the other side of town to reach Alex's apartment. The 'legend' had once lived in one of its fancy parts, but since his income had diminished along with his number of clients, he had been forced to move to a much less picturesque skyscraper district.
Stepping into the elevator in one of these skyscrapers, a small part of Robert almost experienced a cynic joy at imagining the faces of the victim when he or she had first set foot inside the shabby building.
"Ah, there you are."
Robert met Alex's mouse-like expression at the door with an incredulous look. Was this really the man that had impressed him with his charismatic appearance once?
He was unshaven, still in his bathrobe and he held a glass with some translucent liquid in his hand. It probably wasn't water.
"How many drinks have you had today, Alex?"
Robert stepped into the apartment and felt like leaving again right away.
"So, where is your experiment?"
He noticed a few empty vodka bottles on the couch table and looked over his shoulder.
"Have you really only had one drink?"
Alex held up an empty bottle and pointed at it with his other hand.
"One entire bottle?!"
Alex shrugged and put on his mouse-look. Just as Robert wanted to speak up again, another sound became audible. It sounded like some chatter, a repetitive one. And it grew louder and louder by the second, like an approaching storm.
Robert tried to make out words. 'Ensh...denshon', something like that.
Alex sighed in obvious distress.
"You see, the two young ladies who came here...I haven't had a woman in so long. And I know about ethics and all that, but- Ah, D-don't look at me like that- my career has gone to hell anyway. So, I tried to make them...needy, you know, but unfortunately they turned out a little too much-"
The adjacent door suddenly burst open and two young, babbling women stumbled into the living room.
"Attention, attention, gimme attention, attention..."
One of them snatched the edge of Robert`s jacket, the other one grabbed Alex's bathrobe. With their constant cries for attention, they were bizarrely reminiscent of the 'mine, mine, mine'-seagulls from Finding Nemo.
"I told them to stay in there until you came..."
Alex's tone had taken on a whiny quality.
The woman that was holding on to Alex's bathrobe let go of it and began to shuffle through the contents of the couch table with sluggish movements. She managed to find a still unopened bottle, screwed the lid off, and drank in big gulps.
Afterwards she coughed, put the bottle down, and mumbled in a soft, dreamy voice:
"Obedience is vodka."
At that point, Robert, who had until then been rendered speechless by the whole display, finally lost his composure.
"Erm, well, you see...I actually wanted to teach them something else...'Obedience is pleasure'...But in the middle of the induction, I suddenly felt like having some vodka...So I believe I said the wrong word..."
"You idiot! What else did you teach them? 'Surrender is beer'?"
"N-no, I actually didn'- Look, I wanted you to fix this so that I won't make it even worse. So, please...?"
"Well, it's certainly the first good idea you've had in a long time. What are their names?"
"Miranda. Miranda and Christine. Miranda is the taller one."
Robert took a moment to study their faces. Christine had a pixie-ish face and short blonde hair. Miranda had long brown hair and looked a bit like Kristen Stewart, but maybe that was just because her expression was so blank.
He didn't quite know how to start since he didn't know what Alex had told them earlier. He thought about what to say now and remembered something he had read a while ago, somewhere on the Internet by someone called DickInABox or something like that.
"Okay, Miranda and Christine. 'I want you to take a moment to relax. Perhaps you could picture yourself in a forest grove, and you start noticing that you're just a bit like the trees-'"
"'m not a fucking tree", Christine replied monotonously.
Well, so much for that. What to do now?
He looked back at the women.
Both of their faces were glistening with sweat, their mouths were slightly open, and Robert could swear that he saw the corners of their eyes twitch. All in all, they appeared to be quite...yearning and not exactly happy. Robert looked questioningly at Alex, who just shrugged.
"They want vodka and attention, you know what I mean, attention, and you haven't given them any yet. No offense dude, but judging from the way you seem so clearly not turned on by them, I'd almost think that you're gay."
It was amazing how Alex could be such an idiot and still punch him in the pit of his stomach without even noticing.
Time to end this. Right now.
"Miranda, Christine, it's time for you to wake up now. I'm going to count to five, and then you will be fully conscious. One, feeling less needy for attention. Two, realizing that obedience is not vodka."
Robert shot another angry glare at Alex.
"Three, becoming slowly more aware of your surroundings...and putting the bottle down."
Christine, surprisingly, set the bottle back on the table. This really seemed to work.
"Four, letting go of my jacket and becoming even more aware."
Miranda pulled her hands away.
"Five, finally waking up."
Both women suddenly glanced around, startled. There was a moment of awkward silence, then Christine finally got up.
She collected her coat and handbag from the couch and almost stumbled to the front door, while Miranda hurried to imitate her actions silently.
Before finally walking out of the door, she turned around once again, eyes blazing with rage. Without her zoned out expression, she did not look like Kristen Stewart at all anymore.
"You disgusting perverts have not heard the end of this."
Each word was spat towards Alex and Robert with an amount of repulsion they had probably both hardly believed possible.
BANG! The door slammed shut.
At that moment, Robert was convinced for the first time that he really hated Alex.
More than the troll mail guy.
Even more than Paul McKenna.
And he also hated those two stupid bitches for being ungrateful, but by the time the meaning of Miranda's words had sunken in, anger was replaced with fear. What if they'd tell the police and he'd be found guilty and his career would be over before it had really begun...Well it would be over even if he wasn't found guilty because an accusation was enough to destroy his reputation, but if he was, he'd have to go to prison and there...
No,no, no, no, he wasn't gay!
Before he could think up any more horrid visions, Robert tore the door open and sped down the staircase. He almost fell over twice, but eventually managed to catch up to the women even though they had quickened their pace.
"Wait! You've got it all wrong! I can explain-"
"You'll have plenty of opportunity to explain everything to the police when you get arrested."
"Me? I just woke you up! If I hadn't, you'd still be sitting in his flat with dilated pupils, praying down your vodka-mantras. All of this is your own fault anyways, because if you had done just a tiny bit of research, you'd have known that Alexander Westerman is an unreliable alcoholic and a loser, because it's all over the fucking internet. But still you blame me even though I helped you! Women like you make me want to turn gay, although I'm not, but even so, I'd rather make love to a..a steam iron instead of you!"
With that, Robert walked past them outside.
It wasn't like any of it mattered anyways.
Some days later, Robert sat in his bedroom again. He had not heard anything yet from the police, but it was still too early to expect being safe. As a means of distraction, he had started cleaning once again. Nothing worse than coming back from prison with a sore ass and finding some old dirty coffee cups.
*ding* One new mail.
Okay, time to prepare for something worse than the worst...
this is Miranda Smith. I hope you're the right person. Mr. Westerman told us that his friend had recorded "Hypnotized By Hitler" and I thought that your voice sounded familiar. You were right about him. It really is all over the internet. I'm sorry for overreacting."
Robert was so relieved that he didn't even mind her mentioning the CD that must not named. The way it seemed, she had even listened to it. Upon asking whether she had found it as horrible as everyone else, she enlightened him about the fact that Nazi fetishists were usually into the uniforms and the blonde and blue-eyed look, not into murderous psychopaths and overly exaggerated accents. They'd agreed on renewing their acquaintance over a cup of coffee. Not that Robert was expecting anything from that...But if it went as he hoped it would, he would have to buy a uniform someday.
He leaned back and smiled. Sometimes, coincidences were truly amazing.
But wasn't there something he had still forgotten about? Oh, yes...
He started typing a new message.
"Dear steam iron lover,
I'm not sure you induced your iron properly. If it got hot so quickly, it maybe wasn't relaxed enough. Meaning, you turned it on 'cotton' right away. That would make you a very insensitive iron owner.
Anyhow, you clearly have not learned the art of taking it slow and making it feel the joy of a slow surrender. I suggest you try again. Be careful when you make it cum though, or it will sputter its hot water all over you. Sincerely Yours, Robert Whitfield."