Jo, Wendy and Perfect Wendy

Jo, Wendy and Perfect Wendy

This was a damn fancy hotel lobby. Wendy was in awe, she had only seen such a stately place in glossy magazines or on TV. She rolled up to the reception desk and dinged the bell, which rang out true and perfect. She had never heard such a magnificent bell ring before.

As she waited she ran her hand along the desk top, marble. She shook her head in disbelief, what had she done to deserve a stay in a hotel like this?

Seriously though what had she done? Why was she here?

She couldn’t remember why she had come here…

Wendy walked over to the glass doors and glanced outside, the air was clean and clear but something was obscuring her vision. She could faintly see another building opposite, maybe it was also a hotel, stretching endlessly up into the pitch dark sky. Why couldn’t she see it clearly? Could she see more hotels next to it through the clear fog?

“Hi there” The voice startled Wendy, it sounded so familiar yet tonally strange. “You must be our newest Wendy”

Wendy turned around and saw herself stood behind the desk, no that wasn’t right she saw the perfect version of herself, brilliance radiated off her like embers from a fire. Shock overwhelmed Wendy, her knees went weak and the floor rushed up towards her.

 

 

There were two female voices speaking when Wendy awoke, she recognised the first one as the perfect Wendy’s voice, it trilled through the air like a song bird announcing spring with merriment. The other voice she did not recognise at all.

It dawned on Wendy that she had just fainted for the first time ever. In front of her perfect self. She didn’t know how she knew that this other lady was the perfect version of herself because perfection of this type was immeasurable. She just knew, like how you may know that a cup of tea is perfect. It’s just a fact.

Wendy had only ever seen one person faint before and that person had pissed themselves. Had she just pissed in front of her perfect self? She didn’t feel wet down there. What if they had had to take her trousers and pants off? She knew that she was lying down on her back on something soft and she knew where the voices were. Slowly she ran the hand furthest from them down her torso to her leg, trying her hardest not to be noticed. Her fingers came to trousers, cheap rough denim, yep those felt like her trousers alright. Wanting to make sure she ran her fingers to her crotch

“She’s awake.” Perfect Wendy’s voice was perfect.

She was caught but at least she was dry.

“Hi there, I’m Jo, I’m covering for Death. How are you feeling?” The other voice spoke. Wendy opened her eyes to find that she was looking up at the ceiling. She rolled her head over to look for the face of the second unknown voice. Instead she found Perfect Wendy now sitting on the reception desk, with her long silky beautiful legs draped over the edge.

“I know, I’m slightly in love too, if I’m being honest. She is you with dedication and focus. When she was alive, she split up with Tony at seventeen and then went on to university, there she gained a double doctorate in Theoretical Physics and Political Law, she went on to design a preputial motion machine, harnessing infinite energy for her world. Which she gave away for free. She then went on to form the first world government, which she led for five years before retiring from politics and committing herself to reversing the extinction crisis. You should be proud that you had the potential to do all that.”

There was an awful lot to unpack in that statement.

“If I had left Tony at seventeen, I would have had all that?”

“Oh no. Of course not. Her parents had a bit more money, see her dad was also a bit more of an achiever than yours, he gained a couple more promotions. Which meant that your mum never nagged him about not having enough money, it also meant they could employ a cleaner so your mum had more time to help her with her education. Oh, by the way her mother was also a Professor in education behaviour”

“Oh… but I thought we were meant to have free will and be able to achieve anything we set our mind to.”

“’fraid not. Well technically not. There is a hint of destiny as well. She had it, you didn’t sorry.”

Wendy looked at this woman who was speaking. She looked so familiar but in an odd way, she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was though. Then something dawned on her.

“You said when she was ‘alive’ and that I had the potential to do that, past tense… what does that mean?”

Neither Jo nor Perfect Wendy responded.

“You said you were Death? But Death is a big fat lady who wears bright flowery dresses”

“I said I was covering for her; I owe her a favour… or two” Jo spoke sheepishly before becoming suspicious. “How do you know what Death looks like?”

“I dunno but it all makes sense. I read this book, by J.T.Sinclair. In it he explained that when you die you go to a big hotel like building and there you meet all the other versions of yourself. Then something else happens but I can’t remember what.”

“You’ve read J.T. Sinclair?”

“Yeah, the prose was very basic but the ideas were semi amusing. Wait, does that mean you are Jo as in Jo from the books?”

“Yeah”

“Huh, from the drawings I always visualised you as a stick figure, strange how the mind works sometimes.”

“Yeah, before I met JT I also thought his whole reality was full of stick figures and strangely two dimensional environments too but then I realised he couldn’t actually draw.”

“Yeah but the drawings are often very expressive for something so simple” Wendy countered; the words came to her unnaturally, almost as if they weren’t hers.

“Ok. Enough of JT. So, I guess you have come to terms with the fact that you are dead then?”

“Yes. I mean I’m a little disappointed that I’m dead, and I’m even more disappointed that I am such a failure compared to my absolute potential but I guess I understand the bare facts.”

“I wouldn’t look at it that way. I’m a bit jealous actually. I don’t have a building here as I am a singularity, I think it is comforting to see how you turn out in other timelines. And don’t worry there are countless versions of you here that had way worse life’s, some of them were even their own fault. Your probably in the top 42%.”

“Thanks... I think...” Wendy wondered if the “own fault” bit was a veiled insult but now that she was dead, she realised that she couldn’t give a shit.

“As you have come to terms with your death I am needed elsewhere. Perfect Wendy here will look after you for now and get you settled in.” Perfect Wendy beamed a smile that lit up the whole room “Before I go do you have any questions for me?”

“Yeah two.”

“Shoot”

“Is it a simile or metaphor when you use the word like to describe something?”

“Ummm simile, I think.” Jo turned to Perfect Wendy who nodded. “You know that is the most bizarre question I have received yet.”

“Follow up question, not my second question though. Is a possible side effect of dying only being able to internally describe things in crap similes?”

“No, why?” Jo raised an eyebrow, even Perfect Wendy had lent forward interested.

“No reason. Do they have Merlo here?” Wendy changed the subject quickly, the question about the crap similes in her head would have to wait until later. “I have heard so much about it in JT’s stories, I really want to try it.”

“What?”

“Merlo? It’s in loads of his stories, it sounds fantastic. Drastically Dragon Extreme Energy Merlo, Sensational Strawberry Sensation Merlo, Gloriously Gooseberry and Lemon Alcohol free Merlo, Flavours of the Unknown Vitamin Merlo-”

“Wait wait wait. Is JT up front about telling people that he is hawking a dangerous drink to the masses?”

“I don’t think it is to the masses to be fair, his blogs only have a handful of subscribers.”

“Perfect Wendy, can you take over from here? I have to go have a word with our author friend.”

Perfect Wendy V2-2.png
Interview: More like an intervention

Interview: More like an intervention

The dance of a hundred Jo's: 12, 34, 40, 98 and 100

The dance of a hundred Jo's: 12, 34, 40, 98 and 100