Another small town writhing in American emptiness

Things back east haven’t been as good as Gene had told everyone they were. He was home, visiting his mother, going all around town telling everyone who would give him the chance to that he was some sort of director of some kind of department in some town just outside of some other town where they manufacture some kind of product that some people in some part of the world find slightly useful. All of it was lies. He didn’t live anywhere near anyplace that made or manufactured anything that anybody anywhere had any use for… whatsoever. Gene lived in a town that held little romance an no passion for anything other than the one thing that mattered to them… lusting after other small towns that had spawned mega-starlets… sleepy little southern nowheres that gave birth to Simpson and Spears and the like. Gene’s town wanted to be those other towns. Every Saturday they would hold contests, tryouts, practices, where every little girl in town would get all costumed up and lip synch to their favorite tunes. As the town’s Mayor Gene would be responsible for drafting and sending invitations to sleazy management firms in Florida. In turn the management firms would dispatch their slimiest agents to drool over the children, but to this day nothing has come of it. So Gene, partly ashamed, made up his totally believable, marginally interesting, and utterly false account of life in his adopted town.