I've been meeting up with a few people for a casual book-club over the book Go by John Clellon Holmes over the past month. This past Tuesday, I suggested that we probably have a Paul Hobbes kind of character in our midst, singling out a guy I frequently see around town who is constantly writing. The discussion led to this silly kind of end story below:
Title: The Aftermath of Clark's Book
A few months later, Clark's book came out and became a dizzying success. At one point, some Hollywood types were throwing around the names of Kim Kardashian and Denise Richards as possibilities to portray make-out girl. The success surprised not just Clark, but everyone else in Smythport. Apparently, all those hours Clark seemed to isolate himself writing over his beer were really him recording his account of the humanity that weaved in and out of Coda every night. And even though he had changed names and places, it dawned on people where they stood in his fictional world. That created some new drama for a few weeks, leaving the regulars at Coda to form awkward huddles around the bar. Ultimately, some couples split, leaving the broken halves to glare at each other over glasses of syrah and IPA. But after awhile, people began to mellow or just slip back into the faux reality they had built around themselves of drinks, drugs, and disco.
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