Redundant Hope

About a guy's striving to become a writer.

 

 George opened the new email, and he was glad to find out that he just received an invitation to Orswill,  where he had participated in a literary competition.
 It read: "George Pupkin, we are happy to notify that you won our annual literary competition and we invite you for the prize ceremony which shall take place in September 15  at  03.00 P.M.  in the Literary  Club. We'll appreciate if you come exactly in  time."
Adress was specified  below.
George looked at the mirror and saw a red haired guy with a pig's nose, flashing eyes  and stupid smile curving his plump lips.
" I go!" George flapped his palms. " I'm  the champion!"
He had a dream at night : he sits in the best restaurant and sips cognac and discusses the progress of literature with Stephen Fry.
Next morning George went at work with his his brief case in  his hand. He never took it before. It was a special occasion.
George knocked and entered  office. His boss Mr. Whack, bald, round-shouldered with sweet expression of his face was looking through a magazine.
He greeted his boss and asked for a leave for a couple of days.
"Here is the reason," George  said as he took out of his brief case a couple of stapled papers and handed them over to Mr. Whack. "I received an email yesterday, and I printed it out for you to read it as well."
"Sit down," said Mr. Whack and put aside the  magazine.  He held the paper and started reading carefully.
A minute later he put the papers down. He looked at Geoge and said
"Congratulations! But why haven't you told me that you're a writer?"
"I prefer to do before telling and to think before doing."
"Oh, you remember the rules of the company! It's good for you."
 Mr. Smith took out a pen and signed a paper.
A flight to Orswill was not in the list of extremely popular and overloaded flights, and George bought a ticket without any hitches.
During the flight George fell asleep and dreamed himself in the company of Stephen King.
"Please!" He heard and open his eyes. 
"Please," his neighbor, an elderly lady, repeated.
George looked at her and ask , "You mean autograph?" He smiled and reached into the inside pocket for a pen.
" No,"  said the lady.  " Could you not to snore?"
     Upon arriving in Orswill he came to the designated address and was just in time for the opening of the ceremony. It was held in the auditorium of the newly built Palace of Culture where the literature club was situated.  
There were fifty winners besides George and he had to hear all the list.  George was surprised by the fact that he was the single to come for the prize. Finally his turn came. A man, dressed up in a tuxedo, with a coaxy face handed George letter of award and a tangerine-sized golden gooseberry.
George went back to the airport,  and he waited for his flight in a bar. Except him  and a barman there was nobody inside.
George sat at the bar on a high stool and ordered a round of brandy. Cherubic barman, wearing a white shirt with black bow, put a drink in front of him.
" Cheers!" George said and tipped the glass in his mouth.
" Writer winner?" The barman smirked. " If you wouldn't mind me asking."
" Yeah, I got  literature prize."
The barman grinned and cast his sly glance at a newspaper which was laying on the bar.
" I just read about that show, " he said and giggled. "Goddam Jokers!"
   " Do you mind," George took the newspaper and  what first caught his eye was the  headline about the Writing Contest Event.  He read the article aloud with a sweet smile and suddenly stopped. For some time he was moving his white lips soundlessly then put the paper aside and exclaimed, 'Typo! What a s**t they printed!'
He grabbed his merit award out of the suitcase and read what joy had blinded him from seeing before: " Prize for the worst literary work of the year is awarded to George Pupkin," he tossed the merit award, and put out the gooseberry and stared at his prize,"
"How much do you think this costs?" asked George his voice barely heard.                               "I've seen these in the trinkets shop. Three dimes apiece,' the barman answered.
George scratched the berry with a knife. A black metal stood out off a thin layer of "gold plating".
" Oh, God! Leave it out!" He groaned, his face paled and lips quivered.
" You didn't know at all?"  The barmen was astonished. "They practice this s**t every year!"
His shoulders began to shake, lips curled, forehead  wrinkled of futile effort not to chortle. Finally he broke down and burst into a terrible laugh. He leaned his hands on the counter and was shaking  with convulsions of glee. He  stopped just to mutter "sorry" and wipe away the tears, and again bent down in paroxysm of laughter.
George got up and walked out of the bar without saying a word.

Reviews

[Marie]

This is very sad. I was so hapy for George, even though I suspected something was wrong. But did get a prize, and I thought everything was all right. Then it fell apart.

[Georgy]

Thanks, Marie. Unfortunately, most of our hopes tends to fall apart.