Whatever Happened to the Brick Man Part 5: He lived like a bird and then he died, just like blog entry #100. Wait. That doesn't rhyme.

                                                                                                I.

It all began very simply, as all tragic tales do. It began with a simple act of sabotage that escalated into a larger than life fiasco. But first, the story thus far. Cue "Carry on Wayward Son". Hmmm? That's not our song? Oh, okay.

Brick was never a happy man, a popular man or a successful man. Hell, his name was Brickman (or Brick Mann). Can't get far in life with a name that's thick as...well, a brick.

After a failed attempt to become a musician, Brick settled for becoming a lowly maker of promos for a television station he hadn't heard of before he started working there. There he met a beautiful young producer name Amethyst. Her gorgeous violet eyes, infectious smile and killer figure were just the superficial charms this lady had to offer. She was also highly intelligent, sensual and a very competent producer (regardless of what her employer thought). Brick had obviously become enamored with Amethyst, I mean, you'd have to have a heart of stone not to. Ha. Brick, stone. Ha. Unfortunately, men like Brick don't get the love that they believe that they deserve. But more on that in a moment.

In addition to the amazing Amethyst, there was also the boss man, a philosophical giant who tried to help Brick feel at home. Let's not forget Eugene Pterodactyl, who was voted television's most two-faced and psychopathic host of 2010, 2011 and 2012. He's Amethyst's boss and he once warned Brick not to get too close to Amy, for reasons we shall see soon.

Of course we can't forget to mention the Masters of Ephemera: Señor Tigre, the friendly audio expert who is reminiscent of a bass player we once knew; the enigmatic Jacques Ombre, the group's moral compass that strikes a human facsimile of a long lost drummer; and then there's John D. Slate, the egoistic lead editor who risks comparisons with a certain fallen vocalist. Slate, it turns out, managed to sweep up Amethyst's emotions into an ecstatic climax of satisfaction. He recently humiliated Brick by kissing his beloved producer right in front of him. That callous jerk!

We'd be remiss to forget to mention G Mod, the bane of Brick's existence in whatever reality that Brick happened to inhabit (whether it was the carefree rock star-wannabe era or the depressed promo maker era). And, last, but not least, there was the creepy ex-employee who was the catalyst of Brick's tragedy. It all began very simply, as all tragic tales do.

                                                                                                II.

When Brick left his apartment that August morning, he felt a shudder of dark, cold energy that he had never been burdened by. He could feel his heart beat like a flickering candle, but proceeded towards the office anyway.

At his computer sat that creepy former promo maker who was now working as an assistant to the main IT guy at the company. You know, computers and stuff. (Editor's Note: We apologize for the serious lack of knowledge. Our bad. Who says "our bad anymore?") He was busy installing all manner of updates and other technical stuff. (What? Just keep reading!) 

"What are you doing?" Brick asked, annoyed.

"Hello..." replied the creep. "Just synching all the computers to the stone tower's network."

"How long is it going to take?"

"Oh, 4-5 hours."

"Okay... What?"

"Yup."

"But I have to do that promo for Pterodactyl's anniversary special...otherwise no one will watch."

"Once this process begins, it cannot be stopped.

"That sounds ominous."

"Mmmm-hmmm..."

Brick reluctantly sat down on the nearby seat and stared at the update progress screen until he nodded off into a poorly timed nap.

A nap that would prove to be most costly...

                                                                                                III.

"What the **** are you doing?!"

Brick awoke with a jolt. He had no time to wipe the dried drool from his face because John Slate was upon 

him like the plague.

"Huh?"

"Do you know what you've done?" asked the irate supervisor.

"What?"

"That promo for Pterodactyl's anniversary show was due an hour ago. Do you know what that means?"

"I can kiss my X-Mas bonus goodbye?"

Slate grabbed the confused editor by the collar and smacked his ruddy cheek raw.

"Do you realize that Pterodactyl's anniversary special has the most valued advertising slot available on our network? 95% of our revenue comes from that half-hour of television. Everything else we do is just filler compared to those thirty minutes that come only once a year...."

"That doesn't really sound like a sound business model, Slate..."

"It wasn't my call, you idiot."

Slate threw Brick down into his swivel chair, causing the plastic to creak from the impact. Amethyst held back her man Slate, preventing another soul-shattering smack to the head of our already beleaguered protagonist.

"Brick," she said with despair, "our division has already been under heavy scrutiny by the owner of the station, G Mod."

"G Mod... is the owner?"

"Where have you been, Brick?" Señor Tigre inquired.

"G Mod owns all of our futures," lamented Jacques Ombre, fulfilling his obligation to appear in a blog entry along with Señor Tigre. And with that, the two of them left for their 14th smoke break (that hour).

"We can still make the promo, " Brick insisted, "there's still time!"

"You idiot," Slate growled. "Our audience decides what they want to watch way in advance. They go with whatever promo catches their attention. Usually our promos are the best among our direct competitors. That is, we win when we actually have a promo to compete with theirs. BUT WE DON'T NOW, DO WE?"

"But loyal fans will know to watch..."

"The people are sheep! They're easily confused and led astray."

"That's a serious indictment of the television viewing public."

"The television public is a serious indictment of the television public!"

"How could you do this?" Amethyst asked.

"What, Amy?"

"How could you throw away our futures like this? We were so close from getting out of debt... Brick?"

 "It wasn't my fault. That creepy IT guy was here this morning and he disabled my computer for a few hours... Amy. Amy?"

Amethyst was seized with terror. Standing in the door way to the "Other Side" was Pterodactyl, enraged.

                                                                                                IV.

The enraged, deranged host named after the flying dinosaur swooped in with a frightful speed and threw Brick against the stone wall, causing a bruised rib among other humiliating injuries. There was no compassion or mercy. There was only the brutality of an inevitable retaliation.

"You miserable excuse for a whore's son!" exclaimed Pterodactyl as Brick wiped the blood from his brow.

"Eugene, I didn't...."

"I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT!"

Amethyst, finally able to speak in the face of this red haired menace that TV guide once called the Randall Flagg of talk show hosts, pleaded with her boss for mercy.

"Please, Eugene, it wasn't his fault. He didn't realize..."

"Enough from you!" Pterodactyl screamed, his voice pushing Amethyst to the floor with its sheer power.

Brick managed to stand up but he felt a powerful hand upon his shoulder keeping him back. It was the boss man.

"Things have progressed in an undesirable direction, my young friend."

"It wasn't my... that creep...did an update...the stone tower network... I couldn't get any work done."

Pterodactyl was insatiable. "You ruined my career...YOU MOTHERF***ING INGRATE!"

He struck at Brick with his potato-ey fist, bruising the cheek below Brick's left eye. The boss man twisted Pterodactyl's arm and tossed him aside.

"That's enough of the histrionics, Eugene."

The emasculated host looked at Amethyst with malevolence. "You can forget about me getting your debt cleared. I hope you enjoy the world beyond the protection beneath my wing."

No one laughed at that. That's how grave the mood was.

The crime of not airing a promo during the most crucial timeslot of the air was nigh unforgiveable. Costing a television company precious ad revenue was the equivalent of blasphemy, treason and infidelity wrapped up together in a trifecta of betrayal. And when that television station depended on that precious  timeslot for the majority of their annual budget, that made Brick public enemy numero uno.

                                                                                                V.

The walk to the station owner's office was fraught with tension and indigestion. Adding insult to injury was Brick's upset stomach. It churned and turned with prophetic intensity. All of Brick's negligence had finally come back to haunt him, including his poorly cooked breakfast.

The door opened and Pterodactyl shoved the unfortunate video editor into the room to face the music. ha...sorry. Amethyst and Slate entered just before the door slammed shut behind them.

"Sir," began the perturbed Petrodactyl, "here is the punk responsible for the missing promo."

The swivel chair behind the ultra retro mahogany desk at the other end of the room turned around, and it was G Mod sitting there. He was wearing his trademark golden shirt, beige slacks and his sunglasses du jour. 

Hey, if this is going to be the season/series finale, we might as well bring things full circle.

"Brick, Brick, Brick. How do we keep getting caught up in such schemes?" asked the sleazy man.

"Sir, I take full responsibility for my actions. Even if that creep from the IT department prevented me from completing my task on time, going unconscious was my fault. I admit my mistake."

The owner was impressed. "That's very refreshing, Brick. Taking responsibility for your own failures instead of hiding behind others. It's almost as if you finally became an adult. Oh, what a long road it has been."

The disturbed host named Pterodactyl interjected: "Sir, this exchange of pleasantries is not addressing the issue. My career is ruined. No one is going to watch my anniversary special now. The promo never aired and now the sheep who watch this network have been seduced by other shows on competing stations. I demand vengeance on this simple-minded simpleton."

The ever pleased-with-himself G Mod smirked. "What say you, Brick? Do you deserve the full penalty of our wrath?"

In a surprising act of selflessness, Amethyst pleaded on Brick's behalf.

"G Mod, please. I implore you. Show mercy...."

"Yeah, yeah. To err is human, to forgive divine. I did not expect this from you, Amethyst. Self-centeredness is the number one characteristic listed on your dossier. Now you're begging on Brick's behalf even though your own job is at risk? What do you think about that, Slate?"

The blonde ponytail man responded: "Let the fool burn for what he's done. Amethyst, how could you? Let's go and leave the jerk to his fate."

Slate tugged at her arm, but she refused him.

"No, I can't."

"You are my woman, so you'll do as I say."

Amethyst kicked Slate in the groin.

"No, I am my own person and I will say what I came here to say."

"This is getting exciting," said the amused G Mod. "We never had this much drama when it was just a rock band... since there were never any groupies or girlfriends. Female characters are the tops. We should've had more. So, Amethyst, why would you defend Brick?"

"He is not a bad person."

Pterodactyl boiled from within. "Don't you dare defy me, Amethyst. This won't end well for you!"

"Easy, Eugene," said G Mod before turning to Brick. "Hey, it looks like the last woman who broke your heart ended up being the only one to try to save your neck. That must be worth something, huh?"

Brick remained silent, looking at Amethyst with quiet acquiescence, the love long since dissolved into despair. She could not stand the look in his eyes.

"Please, G Mod. Don't take this out on Brick. He's been through a lot. Especially all of the mind games I've subjected him to. I broke his heart."

"Well, it's nice to see that your self-esteem is through the roof, Amethyst. Dating a hot-headed idiot while rejecting a sensitive, caring soul that would have done anything to make you happy... Yes, the world is a fair and just place."

"I'm not an idiot," mumbled the hunched over Slate. Amethyst kept on ignoring him. 

The Bossman broke his silence. "Brick is a talented young man with a troubled spirit. I was hoping to have the chance to help him turn things around. It seems that I have missed my chance."

G Mod reflected on the words of the wise giant and raised his hand, indicating that no more outbursts would be tolerated.

Slate tried to say something, but G Mod managed to spring from his seat and grabbed hold of the cranky supervising editor's throat.

"You never do learn, do you Slate? No matter how many incarnations I give you, it'll never be good enough, will it?"

He squeezed Slate's throat tighter.

"How much can I give you? Isn't it enough that I gave you Amethyst and she was attracted to you and not to Brick, at the cost of her sanity? Hmmm?"

Slate writhed. "G Mod...."

Slate started flashing in and out, alternating between his douche bag, blonde professional look and the heavily tattooed, spiky haired poseur at his core.

"I'm so tired of putting up with your insubordination. This isn't your story. It's always been mine. I just made you up to hurt myself."

With horror in his eyes, Slate evaporated until all that was left was a glass replica of himself.

"There is no you, there is only me..."

Amethyst didn't shed a tear. In the instant before G Mod descended upon her and the others, with her final breath she uttered, "I love you too, Brick." The final syllable uttered just before her lungs crystallized and her redemptive glance of hope was captured forever in glass. Next went Pterodactyl and finally the noble giant was converted into glass as well.

Only Brick and G Mod remained intact. Outside the window, the stone tower glowed against a desolate dark sky.

                                                                                                VI.

"It didn't have to be this way. This is all your fault. You had one simple task, Brick."

"And what was that?"

"Play. Your. Part."

"What?"

"I made you a guitarist, but you stopped playing music. I made you a video editor, but you refused to make promos. Why do you keep doubting me?"

"I... can't trust you... I remember... the light... it's fading...fast."

G Mod grabbed brick as he was falling. He supported his head and looked into his diminishing eyes.

"What's wrong, Brick?"

"I... can't go on like this. You've ruined my life."

"What are you saying?  I've done everything I could to keep you going. Every time you are about to destroy yourself, I bring you back to life. I try to change your surroundings...but your darkness keeps following you. I can't always keep up with it."

"What are you talking about.... You're evil."

"I'm afraid that, in your paranoia, you've chosen to think of me as your biggest enemy. That couldn't be further from the truth. You don't see things clearly. It's all tainted by your dark thoughts."

"Who the hell are you?"

G Mod removed his sunglasses.

"My name isn't G Mod. That was just a ruse so you wouldn't be suspicious. Little good that did. My name is Mike, and I'm a writer."

"A writer? What the...?"

"You are one of my characters. Everything you see is from my imagination. I've been trying to help you, but my actions have gotten distorted by your faulty perception."

"No, this can' be.... So Amethyst, Slate..."

"All from my imagination."

"So I'm..."

"A part of me. A part of me that's struggling and on the verge of disaster."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"A part of you always knew that there was something wrong with me. You pushed me away, cast me as a villain."

"So if this is all fake, what's that tower?"

"It's reality."

With a quiet look of resignation that had long become his natural countenance, Brick declared, "I quit," before plunging out of the window and began floating towards the tower. He didn't know what lay beyond the tower's mysterious and malevolent glow, but he no longer cared. He was free from the lies that he had been crushed by for too long.  

  

    

Tales of Amethyst Part 3: "Brick, if you need to curse my name, curse me good!"

A lot had happened with everyone's favorite female protagonist on this here blog. Sure, she's the only female protagonist we've had on this here blog...but at least we're trying, right? Ha ha...uh.

In addition to landing several high profile interview subjects for her insatiable boss, the incredibly self-involved Eugene Pterodactyl, one could say that this past summer had been the summer of love for the purple loving producer.  A certain someone had young Amy smitten and craving the end of the work day like a dog craved a steak. Was that an insensitive comparison? Lo siento.

Yes, Amethyst had spent the last few months in a state of tantric ecstasy, pulsing with joy as she floated through her most productive few months at the TV station yet. Lonely shut-ins had gathered 'round the old boobtube in force to watch the non-stop layouts and poorly downloaded second-hand material, which Eugene Pterodactyl's documentary series specialized in, as they never had before.

Amethyst's star had never risen higher. She had even begrudgingly earned the respect of her hard-to-please employer, the aforementioned Pterodactyl. Pterodactyl had a poor reputation when it came to his producers. He went through them like a pack of Kleenex on a sneezy day.

Understandably, in this perpetually orgasmic mood, Amethyst was sitting on top of the world when Brick stumbled into work. In a moment of uncommon charity, Amy actually wished Brick a good morning with a hint of sincerity she hadn't used with him since the beginning of her torrid affair with her as of yet unnamed BF.   

The color had long since drained from Brick's skin. He was like a healthy looking zombie minus the brain diet. The lowly video editor had his hair cut short and his prickly stubble shaved to try to regain some self-respect. No luck.

Brick sat down and stared at the blank timeline on his desktop screen. That's all his life had become. An empty timeline that refused to stop.

John Slate, Brick's immediate supervisor burst into the common office area with a swagger previously unheard of. He marched over to Brick's desk and slammed his fist down.

"Where the hell have you been?" demanded the impatient editor.

"I was..."

"I don't care where you were, you get to work on those goddamn promos right now. The biggest episode of Pterodactyl's show is coming up and if the promos aren't ready, no one will know what to watch."

"Take it easy on him, John," said the surprisingly compassionate Amethyst.

Slate walked up to her, grabbed her by the waist and pressed her up against his body in a passionate kiss right in front of Brick's eyes. Devastation could not begin to describe the suffering Brick's tattered psyche endured in that moment. Amethyst glanced over at him, pity in her eyes. The first domino had fallen. The rest were soon to follow.

  

Mortality and the common Brick or what not to think about on one's birthday... "Someone take these dreams away, That point me to another day, A duel of personalities, That stretch all true realities."

And so on a random summer's day, Brick reported sick from work and stayed home. Home was what he called a claustrophobic crawlspace that is disdainfully referred to as a 'Studio Apartment'. A lonely crimson guitar hung above the broken futon that Brick used to slip into temporary oblivion between dusk and dawn.

He hadn't slept that night. The air was oppressive with its mixture of humidity, heat and haughty disregard for one's ability to breathe. Stripped down to just a sweat-drenched pair of slacks, Brick stared at the bare wall across from his hopeless body. Exposed red bricks stretching from floor to ceiling played tricks on the vulnerable Brick's mind.

Beside him sat the omnipresent specter of G Mod. Brick no longer remembered who he was or what he had done to him in his former life as the troubled leader of the world's worst band, MFUJ. G Mod was just the darkest shade in a room desperate for illumination.

"What is a man?" asked the incorporeal one.

"I don't know anymore," relied the recumbent Brick.

"A man is a vessel for change. He is a sentient being capable of making decisions that affect not only himself but the lives of those around him."

"..."

"What is a brick?"

"Useless..."

"It is a tool used by men to build something. Or it can be a weapon. It all depends on the man's intentions."

"Huh..."

"What is mortality?"

"Mortality?"

"Did I stutter?"

"No..."

"Mortality is the measure of a man's limits. Health, endurance, luck... A man's time comes when he has depleted these three."

On the walls appeared the faint outlines of MFUJ band members Shadow, Tigerman and Slate.

"I know these faces.. from somewhere."

"I'm sure you do. The question I have to ask you, Brick: how long is the life-cycle of a brick under duress?"

"I don't know..."

"Okay, fair enough," declared the ego-stroking G Mod,"What is depression?"

"It is drowning without the water...without the hope of coming back for oxygen. It is the constant feeling that one's life is devoid of purpose or fulfillment. It is cancer of the soul, hell on earth."

"So what's holding you to this world Brick? What is preventing you from finding peace?"

"These dreams filled with the dead souls from my past and present. My spirit swerves out of their way, but  they prove overwhelming. They make me crave my own demise, a demise I will never achieve on my own..."

Whatever Happened to the Brick Man Part 4: A Farewell to Guitars or Dr. Strange Brick or How He Learned to stop worrying and embrace the boring dialogue and depressing ending... Wow. Referencing Hemingway and Kubrick...and Deschanel? I guess someone could have been Brick's girl.

As you remember (or don't, hehe), Brick's recollections of his past dealings with G Mod had been wiped completely clean  somehow. We're not sure exactly how. Some said that Brick finally managed to repress the negative memories from his past (those seem to pile up quickly, don't they?). Others said that the massive soul destroying tower had begun to melt his mind. And still some others claimed that his high dairy intake had finally come back to haunt him. Regardless, we felt that it was time to relate to a lost tale about Brick before he gets dragged down by the storm like an Orwellian dog in a Roger Waters-penned song. We better hurry since no David Gilmour guitar solos could possibly save a charade like Brick, ha ha.

It was back in the summer of '10. Brick was a young guitarist. Not a good guitarist. A guitarist nonetheless. He was down on his luck but the sun still shone in the sky every day. It still did in those days.

One day his friend Tigerman brought him along to help impress a woman he liked. It was at an audition for a play. the building was nothing special. No need for lengthy exposition. We'll let Brick tell the story, starting from the former MFUJSF HQ. How he remembers, we can't tell you (Plot hole!)

"You will help me with the lady, won't you, Brick?"

"All right. Let me clean up first."

"Yes, you should wash away that fake stubble of yours."

"All right!"

I washed my face and combed my hair.

"Ready?"

We left the HQ and headed for the audition. We went to the nearby town and the sun was hanging high and it was nice. The theater house was a villa built before the grunge era. Miss Ruby was in the Garden. Another actress was with her. We saw their tank-tops through the trees and walked towards them. Tigerman saluted them. I just stood there and acted confused.

"Hey there," Miss Ruby said. "You're not an actor, are you?"

 "Oh no. I'm in a band."

Tigerman was flirting with the other actress. She was laughing at him.

"What an odd thing― to be in a band."

"Well, it's not all I do. I wrote a book."

"It's very odd though. Why be in a band? They don't make money at all."

"I don't know," I said. "There isn't an easy answer for everything."

"Oh isn't there? I was always instructed to think that it was 'my way or the highway.'"

"That's disturbing."

"Do we have to go on and talk like this?"

"No," I said.    

"That's a relief, isn't it?"

She was beautiful. Her light-brown hair glistened in the midday sun. Her slender frame felt good pressed next to mine, the softness of her bosom brushed up against my shoulder by a happy accident.

"Miss Ruby..." I began to say as I held her hand in mine.

"Yes, Brick?"

"I love you."

She smiled.

"You're a nice boy, but don't play this awful game with me."

"What game?"

"Don't be lame."

"I'm not, on purpose."

Tigerman was making some weird hand gestures at the other actress. She couldn't understand him.  

Miss Ruby was perfection personified. She sat in my lap, her legs crossed. Her arm was cradling my shoulder.

"I don't know, Brick. I've always been afraid of stone towers."

"Well, I don't see any near here. So I think you'll be fine."

"I guess."

"I love you."

"I wish you didn't have to return to your band."

"My record producer will kill me if I stay out too long."

"I didn't get the part anyway. I want to be with you."

"I'll love you no matter what, Miss Ruby."

"I like it."

"Are you really afraid of stone towers?"

"Not when I'm with you."

"Why are you afraid of them?"

"I don't know."

"Tell me."

"Don't make me."

"Please?"

"Alright. I'm afraid of stone towers because I see you dying because of one."

"Oh."

"But I'm an actress and crazy, so it's all nonsense."

"You're not crazy."

"You're right, I'm not...  I guess that's kind of foreboding."

Tigerman was ultimately rejected by his potential first ex-wife. Miss Ruby kissed me with all the passion and desperation of a star-crossed lover.

I didn't want to leave her but Tigerman reminded me of the wrath that G Mod might inflict if we missed the recording session.

"Oh Brick?" asked Tigerman as we headed back to MFUJSF HQ.

"Yeah, Tigerman?"

"You do know that Miss Ruby has a boyfriend, right?"

Lately, Brick appears missing. It seems like Amethyst has him falling off of cliffs. When reached for comment, all he could mutter was "Shock me awake, tear me apart..." I guess it's only falling in love because he hit the ground.

...And so time passed and minutes begat hours, hours begat days, days begat weeks. Time flowed seamlessly into a crimson spiral emptying down the drain of existence...

...And the award for most unnecessarily morbid opening sentence goes to...

...as Brick's world became more and more sullied by the complexities of the reality collapsing around him. 

To say that his life became complicated by the presence of Amethyst would be an understatement of Gulliverian proportions...

Are you sure you're using that adjective correctly? I thought Gulliver was the guy who smashed watermelons...

That's Gallagher.

The guy who plays Piper Perabo's boss on Covert Affairs?

No, that's Peter Gallagher.

You mean the lead guitarist of Oasis?

Ugh... that's Noel Gallagher.

Oh, the author of London Calling!

No, that's Noël Coward... or the Clash (minus the !)

Huh...

As we were saying, Brick's world was totally thrown out of orbit by the enigmatic Amethyst. Her entrancing glances at him in the hallway were as brief as the flap of a hummingbird's wing but they devastated him like a supernova. It was inexplicable. She was but one of several attractive women working at the office. She was just one woman amidst millions of women that he' see within the city limits. Just one woman amongst 3-4 billion on Earth.

And yet she dominated his limited attention span. There had been others of course. A singer songwriter, an actress and a humanitarian among them. But here was this producer who had flat out ejected him and yet there still seemed to be a bond, as malleable as a cloud, as stable as chaos itself. It was disarming, this influence Amethyst had on our unlucky protagonist. Despite his insistence on renouncing her, Brick was unable to rid her from his mind. I mean, how could you remove a thought once it has taken root in one's mind, huh, Christopher Nolan? hmmm?

There was no resentment for this one sided love affair either. The mere sight of her lifted his spirits into the magenta tinted sky only to drop him to earth like a human meteorite. She was the Louise de La Vallière to his Vicomte de Bragelonne, the key to his destruction disguised in a humbly beautiful vessel.

There was a caveat, an exception, a dread that lurked beneath the surface. Pterodactyl had warned Brick about Amethyst and that warning proved to be coming true. Much like the aforementioned Vallière, Amethyst's attention was dominated by another man's love.

What has become of this once mighty blog? We're talking about love instead of a faux rock band... the horror, the horror.

And it was this cold hard fact that disintegrated Brick's very being, leaving a hollow cavity in Brick's chest.

You mean like that Green Day video?

Except there was no stray heart here. Brick began to fade in and out between the world of Amethyst's misleading charms and a deeper, darker world that was familiar and estranged simultaneously. Although on the outside Brick seemed his usual goofy self, if one were to take a closer look, he appeared missing.

That moment you run into the person responsible for hiring you and you don't recognize them. Them: "The coldest blood runs through my veins... You know my name!"

As Brick raised his drool-covered face from the soft memory foam mouse pad on his work desk, he realized it was morning already. Hours had gone by since his humiliating encounter with Amethyst and his subsequent... oh guitar picks! Brick couldn't seem to remember what happened after that. As a matter of fact, neither can we. Huh?

Seriously though...it feels like a major character, an antagonist that has bothered Brick for years, has suddenly been stripped from our memories. Yes, we are totally freaking out over this total mind****.  Back to the story. Brick, having completely lost 13 hours of his life with no recollection why, did what anyone normal clueless video editor would do... he went to the restroom.

Now as fascinating as a trip to the water closet can be, this little episode is all about what happened after Brick exited the can. Down the hall, around the corner of the block of cubicles occupied by one of the non-video-editing  departments, Brick saw his boss talking to a familiar looking businessman. As he got closer, the sunglass aficionado with the slicked hairdo became clearer. Brick politely greeted his boss, hoping to not attract attention to his wrinkled clothing. The boss man immediately surrendered attention to the mysterious figure who was now approaching our protagonist.

"Remember me?" asked the man with the crooked Cheshire cat grin.

"Um," said Brick, suddenly reduced to the vulnerable state of childhood, "I don't remember your name but your face is very familiar to me.

Brick's boss chuckled as the young video editor made a total fool of himself. The smiling man simply replied:

"My name is G Mod And I'm the one who got you this job in the first place."

"Yes," Brick said, his face mortified beyond believability, "G Mod. That is a very familiar name... I apologize. I'm very grateful for this opportunity..."

"I'm sure you are. Run along now, Brick."

The humiliated former leader of the band MFUJ walked into the next room while the bigwigs talked.

"He seems to not remember you, G Mod," said the giant boss man.

"Hmmm... it seems like everything is as it should be."

Unaware of the sinister conversation going on the other side, Brick returned to his desk to find an irate Eugene Pterodactyl standing there, fuming like a mofo.

"Where have you been?"

"Mr. Pterodactyl? I...uh..."

"Uh is not an answer."

"I was in the restroom."

"I see," said the flaming red haired host who was once voted most despicable host of the year by every 

publication known to man, "So you were in the restroom for the last 72 hours?"

"Well, no, that would be insane."

"Oh, so then you just purposefully didn't make the precious promo for my show?"

"Well, I was working..."

"What the hell do they pay you for, you insignificant insect's dropping?" asked the irate host in a baritone squeal.

"My great taste in music?"

"You ridiculous waste of air. If it weren't for the fact that no one wants to work in the promo department besides you and your loser ilk, I'd smash your skull against the pavement, you stone ugly bastard!"

"Sir, I'm not sure..."

"Yes, exactly. You're not sure of anything. What the hell kind of life are you leading? Are you just drifting by, a barnacle attached to me?"

Brick, already tired of this conversation, mumbles, "I don't know, you tell me."

"Of all the insolent... you maggot!"

Pterodactyl grasped Brick with his meaty hooks and slammed him against the wall.

"Get your act together or you'll be nothing but a stain on my fist."

"Yes, sir."

Pterodactyl, not satisfied, leans in with a snarl, "And stay away from Amethyst, you junkless amateur. She's MINE!"

"Amethyst?" brick asked with naive ignorance.

"Yes, you moron," continued the mad TV personality, "When will you realize how little value you have in this world. Do you think you even matter? Don't confuse my speaking with you right now to my acknowledgement of you meaning anything to me or this station. You are the most useless piece of garbage I've ever laid eyes on. Do you think Amethyst likes you? She's nice to everyone in that coquettish way of hers. You don't know anything about where she comes from or who she really is. She wouldn't care about you even if you paid her a million dollars to. Stop wasting your time thinking about her."

Pterodactyl released Brick and stormed off, as characters tend to do when they're done for the day.

Brick, stunned from the day's events, wondered how he could ever get any work done.

Brick: "If you try the best you can, if you try the best you can...Dinosaurs roaming the Earth." How is that for optimism? Or is that Jurassic Park IV? I'm confused.

"Brick?" Amethyst asked with the faintest tone of concern imaginable.

"Hmm..." mumbled the clearly overwhelmed video editor.

"Are you ok?"

"Uh, sure, everything with me is... normal."

"Normal, huh?" she asked with her lips freshly adorned with light red lipstick, her eyes shadowy with 

mascara. "Added drool to our definition of normal, have we? Nice..."

Brick, to his perpetual humiliation, discovered the dry streak of saliva originating from the side of his chapped lips.

"Huh..." he refocuses his attention on Amethyst who achieved of new attractiveness by adding a little bit of make-up...

Editors Note: We'd like to assure our female readers, if there are any, that you are beautiful just as you are and don't have to purchase expensive and environmentally unfriendly cosmetics to try to attract attention....And there goes our chance of getting a sponsor...

"Where are you going, all gussied up and whatnot."

"To a bar for a little get-together..." she replied, her mind obviously already there.

"Right..." Brick replied, his heart sinking a bit further into the abyss.

Amethyst exited with a standard "Have a good weekend" as Brick tried to piece together how things went so wrong for him.

Outside the tower shined brightly as souls circled around it like hazy fireflies in the summer sky. Brick began feeling blinded from within, a searing, savage pain that pulsed and ended as quickly as it began.

"Mind troubles?" asked the vile G mod as he spun around in a swivel chair across from Brick's desk.

"I don't have time for you..." Brick began saying as he attempted to rise out of his chair, before stumbling back into his chair.

"Awww...what's the matter, Brick? Health got you down? Or is it the latest in your series of women who don't give a damn if you live or die? What happened to not caring? To your Private hell?"  

Gripping his head, "I don't know, G mod. I guess I just care too damn much to let go completely, huh?"

"You're headed for a fall, my friend, " said the devil to the Brick. "Your eyes are distracted by a pretty gem and you don't even see that the floor is falling out from beneath  you."

"You're a....you're a..."

"C'mon, Brick. Use your words. You wrote a whole book, after all. By the way, when are you planning on publishing it? I'm sure the world is dying to read your insights on Vampire Werewolves from Mars."

"Ugh..." Brick exclaimed as he clutched his head for dear life.

"How does it feel to work so hard to achieve so little? Like that song you tried recording recently. Take Me Alive, was it?"

"Provocative title," G Mod continued, "too bad it's a mess. Got anything to say for yourself?"

"If you try the best you can... if you try the best you can.... The best you can is good enough."

"Yeah, and dinosaurs are roaming the Earth."

With that, Brick's head slowly lowered to his desk and he slipped away from consciousness.

"You're never going to get promoted if you sleep on the job. You know the big fish eat the little ones... oh well, I'll go get a burger or something. I'm out of here."