Michael Christie - The Beggar's Garden

In our basement he said he always thought he might be in the movies then he asked me to grab him another of the beers that we keep in a bucket of water outside so they’re more cold. The rest of the night I had to listen to him practise talking normal, like not saying burr or guiturr. Then he put on the classic rock station, which is music that is older and everybody agrees is pretty good, while he did the kind of push-ups where you do the clap in the middle or just go on your knuckles.

After waiting three days Rick called the guy from the pay phone at the gas station where we take dumps. Rick came back and hugged me and said we were going to have a party because he had just got us both jobs as extras.

I asked him what extras were.

He said they were the people in movies who stood around in the background and made everything seem more real just by being there.

It seemed like something we’d be good at, but I was still worried. I’ll do it, I told Rick, as long as I don’t have to say anything because I can’t talk or remember very good because of my brain being disabled and Rick said no problemo.

That night, during our party, Rick drank lots of beers and threw our steeled-toe boots out on the lawn. Then he went up the stairs and pounded on Baldev’s door yelling about room service. I told him to stop because it was three in the morning and he’d wake the kids and they probably had to get up early and go to school. He did what I said and came back downstairs. He looked at his pictures of the rotten witch for a few minutes, then started sleeping.

The next day Rick said we needed some nice clothes because they wouldn’t want to film us if we looked like shit.

I don’t think we look like shit, I said, and I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my favourite orange hoodie that I was wearing because there was white parts on the sleeves from me wiping my nose on them.

We just have to make sure they don’t think we’re bums who don’t deserve the job, he said, but luckily we saved some money for just this kind of occasion. Close your eyes.

Why, I said.

I’m making a withdrawal from our emergency fund, he said.

I faked shutting my eyes and saw him reach for the pineapple can he’d hid behind an old dartboard, which I already knew was there. He pulled out some money and put some back.

Okay, he said.

We biked to five different second-hand stores to get some clothes for our new job as extra people. Rick got a white shirt that was only a little yellow around the collar, some black pants, some shoes he called loafers, and some shades. I just wanted another hoodie, but he made me get some nice jeans and a T-shirt with a collar on it that had a little picture of a guy on a horse holding a sword in the air like he was going to kill somebody. In the change room, Rick switched the tags on them so they were only two bucks each. But the old lady was nice and didn’t make us pay for them anyway.

The day came, which was good because Rick said we were out of money and we had to eat some doughnuts out of a dumpster on our way downtown to the movie place. When we got there, a woman made us wait in a room with a whole lot of other extra people, who were either reading magazines about movie stars or had their ears to their pocket telephones. Some were making appointments to be extra people for other movies and some were talking more quiet to their families and friends.

After a while, they took us into a big room with lots of clothes on racks where we waited some more. Then they brought our costumes. I took mine out of the plastic bag and didn’t understand it. One of the clothes ladies had to help me put it on and I was embarrassed because she saw my underwear. I put my golfing shirt on a hanger and she hung it up. The costume was just bits of fur glued to this dirty net made out of canvas that hung off me like a bathrobe made out of a chewed-up dog. I also got these leather boots that were like moccasins, except they had these little blinking lights on them.

What the hell is this? I heard Rick ask the clothes lady when he got his, which was like mine but he had a helmet and these big black plastic horns coming out of the shoulders.

She talked with pins in her mouth and said it was his costume.

What kind of person wears rags and furs and horns and shredded-up leather? Rick said.

She said this is a movie that takes place in the future.

Rick wanted to know how in the hell that explained anything.

I hadn’t been working in movies very long but I had already learned that when a movie person doesn’t like what someone else is saying they just walk away from them and that is exactly what the costume lady did, which made all shapes of veins bulge under Rick’s helmet.

After everybody was dressed up they took us back to the waiting room.

How do you think they know what people are going to look like in the future? I asked Rick who was reading one of the movie-star magazines.

Maybe they’re just taking a guess, Rick said.

I always thought the future would look like the Jetsons, I said.

He turned a page and went humph.

Then we waited more in the waiting room.

Do you think we’re getting filmed right now? I asked Rick.

No, they’ll tell us when that happens.

Okay, good, I said, because I didn’t feel like I was from the future yet. Actually I was too bored to feel anything. Plus I guess I was mad we had rode our bikes all day and spent our emergency fund on our party.

I think this is shit work, I told Rick an hour later. I’d rather carry ice blocks.

Then Rick told me to shut up so I kept talking about nothing really just to prove he wasn’t the boss.

I felt better when it was time for lunch and we went outside to these big trucks that opened up and had kitchens inside. Us and the other extra people had to line up and wait which was okay because sometimes me and Rick waited for sandwiches at the Gospel Mission so I’m used to it. Rick said all the real actors had food brought to them in their trailers. I told him it was sad they had to live in trailers.

I asked the guy in the truck who had a beard and that knotted rope kind of hair to give me as much food as he could because I was starving. He laughed and piled my plate with all different colours of food. Can you believe this? I said to Rick when we sat down, but he was watching the star actor who was sitting with a pretty lady wearing sunglasses and an important-looking fat guy who had an old-fashioned hat on his head. Even with my disabled brain and my dead taste buds, I could tell this food had never even seen a can. There was lots of fish and different salads, which I don’t like much but ate anyway because I didn’t want to get fired. I went back up twice and ate so much my rag-and-fur future costume got tight and started to rip a little which was okay because you couldn’t tell because it was already ripped.

After lunch, we went back and waited in the room for a long time. Then they said they were wrapping something up and I thought maybe we’d get a present but they just told us to come back tomorrow.

On the way home I asked Rick if he wanted to get some beers to celebrate.

Rick said this wasn’t the kind of job where you get paid at the end of the day, we had to wait for our cheques.

How long will that take? I said. I was worried more about having money to eat than I was about drinking any beers.

Dunno, Rick said, could be a while.

Then I realized my disability worker would find out I wasn’t disabled when I cashed my cheque.

Don’t worry, Rick said, I gave them a fake name instead of your real one and we just sign it over to me and I’ll cash it for you. Until then, we’re gonna have to live off the lunch truck.

That’s all right with me, I said.