Listen. I’m not going to beat around the bush.
I know you’re throwing a Gatsby party for New Year’s Eve.
Please hire me to be your party’s Nick Carraway.
You already know that your party is going to be crawling with Gatsby-wannabes. The quiet fellow from work. Your college film minor friends. Any person you know who’s taken an improv class.
But where, oh where is your party’s humble narrator?
Where is someone who is simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life?
Where is your very own Nick Carraway?
For the very low price of $32.50 (price negotiable) I will be your party’s Nick Carraway.
Why should you choose me? Please. Let me count the ways.
First of all, my eyes are pools of wonder. They ooze intrigue, concern, adoration and bewilderment with a single flash—everything you want in a silent narrator.
By simply standing in a corner, even with a martini glass covering 75% of my face, my eyes can weave an intricate tapestry of all the backroom drama unfolding behind closed doors. These versatile lil’ orbs can convey any emotion, warn you of any hidden dangers and wink warmly at you from across the room as a head’s up that you’re running low on shrimp.
Your party needs a Nick Carraway with range. Someone who can deliver an entire monologue cautioning your Jay Gatsby against devoting his entire life to the very thing he can never grasp (or, in your party’s case, telling your film major friends that your Pilates teacher neighbor is a lesbian) just by blinking?
And speaking of standing, you won’t find anyone more physically qualified to play the role of Nick Carraway in your cosigned condo for the low, low price of $18.25 (price negotiable.)
Standing at 5’3, I am custom-made to fit into the smallest of corners. I’m able to deftly dip into dark closets, overhear whispered conversations and hide behind your pantry door as your co-worker and your sorority sister just… freakin’ go for it in your kitchen nook.
Once I’m finally able to escape your pantry, I’ll inform you of the goings on. With just a raise of my brow, I’ll say,
“Oh shit, Sienna and Ken from Accounting are both single and vulnerable, so they’re just freakin’ GOING FOR IT in your k-nook. But Ken is looking for something serious and Sienna is just having fun, so good luck at work on Thursday. Maybe bring him a nice Everything bagel.”
But, what’s the biggest reason that you should hire me to be your Nick Carraway for the low price of $9.32 (price negotiable)?
I am an expert at drunken heart-to-hearts.
You heard me. I am a sob interpreter. I am 100% fluent in secretive hallway crying. And as your very own Nick Carraway, I will get your guests to talk to me.
I can easily zero on the core of a champagne-fueled breakdown. I know when to cut the Fireball off or keep it flowing, and just the right time to throw someone a folksy, Midwestern-flavored phrase like:
“There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired.”
“Life is much more successfully looked at from a single window.”
“You know, honey… he means well.”
If I don’t think it’s right to interrupt your guests’ sobbing, drunken tirade, I’ll simply sit and listen with my big, oozy eyes, committing every vitriolic curse that spills from their blacked-out mouth to memory so I can repeat it to you tomorrow, verbatim, over egg-white frittatas.
Truthfully, if I do my job correctly (which I will, I’m a professional,) you won’t even realize I attended your party until the next morning.
You’ll wake up on your bathroom floor, stumble into the living room, step over two friends from work, a frenemy from your yoga studio and your high school weed dealer, and see me.
I’ll be sitting at your kitchen nook, sun-drenched in the early morning light of a new year. I’ll be sipping a cup of Colombian-roasted coffee out of your favorite snowman mug and quietly reading a copy of The Atlantic.
And you’ll say, “Oh shit. Oh my God. Were you at the party last night? I didn’t even realize.”
And I’ll smile, toast you with your own mug and wink warmly.
This may seem like a friendly gesture but in reality, it’s me telling you with my eyes that you owe me $4.32 for my services.
(Price, and I cannot stress this enough, negotiable.)