Brilliant stalks into the bar, upset. Ordinary is sitting on the furthest bar stool with a small container of red, ripe strawberries in front of him. Brilliant takes the stool next to him.
“Life is hell,” Brilliant says. His shoulders sag, he picks up a drink straw and starts fiddling with it.
“You’re a real day brightener,” Ordinary says as he takes a sip of his beer.
“Well it is! I’m a failure! Another dream down the drain!”
“Try again,” Ordinary says, plainly.
“There is no sadder state than the death of the dream!”
“And no greater triumph than trying again,” says Ordinary.
Brilliant looks over at Ordinary, annoyed by his lack of compassion for his sorry state.
“Don’t you have dreams? What is your passion?”
“Right now? Strawberries.”
“Oh! You’re going to start a strawberry farm? Revolutionize organic farming?”
“No. I’m just going to eat these here strawberries.” Ordinary bites into a strawberry. Pink juice runs down his fingers. He licks his fingers and picks up another one. He looks at Brilliant and smiles.
“No one will ever accuse you of having a higher vision. That’s not a dream! That’s not a passion! That’s a snack.”
“Call it whatever you like. But perhaps this is my version of a small scale passion when compared with the heights of yours.”
“What’s wrong with big, brilliant dreams?”
“Nothing. Just like there’s nothing wrong with small, immediately attainable dreams.”
“You don’t get me.” Brilliance tosses his straw over the bar in surrender.
“Listen, don’t come into my quiet little corner of the world dragging all of your messy neuroses and try to put it on me. I can see Angst came with you. He’s hanging out over there by the jukebox threatening to put on old Pearl Jam tunes.”
Brilliant looks over and sees Angst inserting quarters into the jukebox. Soon Jeremy by Pearl Jam comes on.
“So you feel satisfied? Just...eating strawberries?” Brilliant asks skeptically.
“Right now, yes. But I’m not like you. I’m Ordinary. You’re Brilliant,” Ordinary says with a slightly patronizing tone.
“I’m also a little tormented. But that’s what it takes to do great things.”
“That’s one philosophy. I do small things beautifully. You know who knows it? Me. And I’m good with that.”
“But I don’t want to be Ordinary.”
“You’re not. You’re Brilliant.”
“But, don’t you want to be me?”
“No,” Ordinary says emphatically, “I want to be me. Ordinary.”
“You can’t be serious,” Brilliant scoffs.
Ordinary turns to Brilliant, levels his gaze and says, “Listen, you arrogant shit, I give you some leeway because you’re Brilliant but it doesn’t give you the right to be Superior. So, let me put it this way. You’re Brilliant in part because I’m Ordinary. Because every book must have a reader. Every poem must have a heart that understands it. Every joke must have someone to laugh at it. For every piece of art, someone who appreciates it. Don’t you see? I’m just as important as you are. Without me, you can’t be you.”
Brilliant sits in silence, as if smacked in the face with a 2x4. Ordinary goes back to eating his strawberries.
"That was brilliant," says Brilliant.
"I have my moments," says Ordinary.
“So, I can go on being Brilliant?” Brilliant asks, rather sheepishly.
“Keep on keepin’ on.”
“And you’ll go on being Ordinary?”
“Yep.”
“Sorry.”
Ordinary gives Brilliant a warm smile and says, “It’s okay. You’re Brilliant. But sometimes you’re not the sharpest tool in the shed.”
Brilliant then asks, “Can I have a strawberry?”
“Sure.” Ordinary slides the strawberries over to Brilliant.
Brilliant bites into the juicy, sweet fruit and for the first time, he understands exactly what Ordinary is talking about.
“By the way, tell Angst he’s not invited to my pool parties. Contentment is going to be there and they don’t get along.”
“Roger that,“ Brilliant says as he reaches for another strawberry.