Fiction
Canvassers: A Short Story
Last year, I self-published a collection of short stories called Caregivers and Other Stories. Today, I want to start sharing it with everyone out there who loves literary fiction, especially dirty realism.
I. At Work
Some nights are easy. Some are not. Often, they are not. Unless you are like Aubrey, then you would have more of the better nights. But believe me. You will have plenty of bad nights. Ask Aiza, a kababayan born in America. Or Attorney Lester Noriega, the man who said fuck it to a six-figure corporate law job in Florida to be a screenwriter in Los Angeles. Or me.
We are called canvassers. In moments of shameless self-importance, some of us proclaim ourselves “activists”, “guardians of democracy” or “the modern day Paul Reveres”. We are the nuisance of the common shopper, of the after-five crowd, of the mothers and their children that had been so carefully trained not to speak with our kind at any time, for any reason. We brave locked doors and dogs and their sometimes dog-like owners, hoping that our scripted pitches will somehow find their way to a good heart willing to become monthly donors of ACLU or Planned Parenthood.
Tonight is definitely not a good night. The new iPad is out, and Aiza’s pitches are falling on deaf ears. I had given up for the night. Six hours…
