THE FAKER

Can a man gain world domination if his only skill is lying?

“When you’ve made your fortune by faking things,” grinned Orlando Fabricca, “when you’ve filled your pockets until they’re overflowing with profits from someone else’s designs because you’re clever enough to copy them, then you get to thinking about the bigger picture because little pictures just aren’t good enough any more.”

“What bigger picture might that be?” asked Scumbag. He hadn’t been christened that but had answered to the name since he’d been a very young child because, in a way, it had always defined his personality. Scumbag by name and scumbag by nature �" that had always been Scumbag and he didn’t mind one jot. People called him all sorts of nasty names, of course they did, but whatever they said was soon massaged into non-existence by his friend Orlando. Orlando the faker. Orlando the genius.

Orlando had a way with more than money. He knew one thing above all others and that was that the human race, both as individuals and en masse, was greedy. It was a piece of knowledge that had filled several secret bank accounts in tax havens to overflowing because he knew that even though everyone he met was greedy, he himself was the greediest of the lot. Ideally, he wanted to own the world and he was well on his way to owning a measurable portion of it, or he would be when his present inconvenience was sorted.

He’d started with fake watches … he knew a little business in the Far East that could churn them out by the thousand, and he bought it. The business, that is, not one of the watches. He didn’t like fake watches. No matter to him that a fake Rolex didn’t last long enough to tick its way through a year, he knew that once broken it would be replaced by the ordinary prole with another fake, and then another and another. People liked the lies his fake products told. They liked to think they were apparently wealthy enough to own a decent Rolex watch.

And he moved through the consumer market like a foetid shadow, offering fake this and fake that until most of what you could buy was fake. And it didn’t seem to matter. After all, as he told his few friends, fake goods hurt nobody. Even the genuine articles became more desirable and hence more expensive because they weren’t fake. And when he got out he’d double, even treble, production of everything.

“The bigger picture, Scumbag my old friend, is that I need to buy you a job,” he said. “I need it for the sake of profits. You know how charismatic you are...”

About as charismatic as a cheese grater, thought Scumbag, frowning, and cheese graters aren’t charismatic enough to get me excited.

“I want you to be my agent, Scumbag old chum,” said Orlando Fabricca with a leer. “You see, I’ve a yen to own the world and the only way I can do that in a single life-time is by entering politics and doing it that way. I want everyone to bow to my command, to kneel before me, to genuflect as though I was Christ himself because I intend to be bigger than Christ ever dreamed of being...”

“There are some who say that Christ wasn’t real...” muttered Scumbag. “There are some who say he was an invention for political purposes two thousand years ago...”

“Like I intend to be, though not back then but in the present,” beamed Orlando. “Now, as my agent, how are you going to sell me to the masses so that whoever they are in whatever country they live them will demand that I’m in charge of everything? How will you massage my image so that the masses will beseech me to be an International president, that I will become a global force for … well, not for good exactly, but for me...”

“There isn’t a global president...” began Scumbag.

“Not yet there isn’t, but with your undoubted skill as my agent there will be. I’ll make speeches all over the place, I’ll tell the people what they want to hear. I’ll even tell them I’ll have walls built between them and their enemies, even if they don’t have any enemies! You see, I know all about fakery, and that’s a fact. That watch your wearing, for instance...”

“Bloody thing! I’ve had it for barely a week and it’s stopped!” growled Scumbag.

“Don’t worry about that! I’ll give you a hundred more! Two hundred if you like! And while you’re wearing them you can tell the world what a great guy I am. I know you can do it! Scumbag the mouthpiece of the greatest world president history could ever conceive of!”

“You’ll have to be careful,” muttered Scumbag, “You know how you can get carried away by the occasion and let your mouth shoot off out of control, and then there’s all the women you’ve groped...”

“They’re nobodies, Scumbag,”

“But up their pretty frocks? Under their panties…?”

“That’s what I want you for, Scumbag old chum! I want you to massage my little mistakes until they seem perfectly sensible! I want you to control my image and if the media prints something that is contrary to the image you’re trying to portray you can just call it fake. I know all about fake. Just look at my smile!”

“What if they rake up bits of old video … there’s lots about, you know, nobody’s got to be as rich as you are without leaving a trail of goofs behind them?”

“Just call them fake! There are enough stupid people in the world to believe anything I say and if someone gainsays it, to believe the gainsayer is a liar! I’m for glory, Scumbag old chum, I’m for power, I’m for magnificence! And you’re going to help me get there. I’ll make it worth your while, and there’ll be more than the odd fake watch in it for you!”

“There’s one thing, Orlando, that might get in your way...”

“There’s nothing, Scumbag! I’m on a roll! What could possibly trip me up as I march forwards to power and glory?

“Well, you’re in this institution and you’ve got to get out of it first...”

“What institution, Scumbag? I see no locked doors, no high walls...”

“But they’re there, Orlando, taller than ever, mightier than before, but they’re all inside your head… You’ve got to escape that, first!”

“Pooh, Scumbag, have no fear! I’m on the march forwards, and you’re with me, eh?”

“I suppose so.”

“Then I’ll call the warder! I need to go for a piss! A piss for glory!”

© Peter Rogerson 23.01.17

Reviews

[Tbear]

OY! This would be a good one for theatre..perhaps you could turn it into a play? Thank you for sharing.. was a nice pick me up..btw..you are very skillful with dialogue
:)

[Peter Rogerson]

What a generous comment. Thank you very much, and I do enjoy weaving dialogue into a story.

[Great Aunt Astri]

hee, hee, hee, made me smile.

[Peter Rogerson]

That's me, I either make people smile ... or cry!!!

[Great Aunt Astri]

It is lucky that we can laugh at literature. When it comes to real life, now, that's another thing!!!!!!