{{ Click the play button above for an immersive audio experience, and/or READ along below }}
Bobby Fraley was a person of interest. No one was quite sure how he arrived at the position. His whole life was spent doing the right things; saying hello to the strangers he passed on the sidewalk, cleaning the dishes at home, and even cutting his neighbor’s lawn. Twice in one week back in June.
Bobby woke at 6:00 a.m. every day, including Sundays. His morning routine consisted of the usual bathroom stuff, and he drank his coffee black from the machine he was gifted at the end of the year party for Stewart, Kilner, & Glaxo, where he worked as an accountant. He made his bed daily, and even washed his car at home, using the finest cloth to dry it, so as not to scratch his 2006 white Toyota Camry that he purchased from a man named Caesar, who owned a used car dealership on the Northside of Van Nuys.
Due to his early waking schedule, Bobby was often tired, and he refused to take naps, as he claimed it would ruin his energy later in the day. He normally dressed in khaki slacks, brown Steve Madden dress shoes, and a short sleeve button up shirt, colors varying from white to cream. He combed his hair twice a day, parted left to right, and wore brown framed glasses that he found at the local thrift store, for which he never changed the prescription of.
Bobby Fraley was the usual man, an everyman of common status, living out his life in the hopes that his lunchtime bagel would stay fresh in the Saran Wrap he folded it in early that morning. But Bobby would never get to eat his plain bagel on the day of October 2nd, 2011, for he was punched square in the face by a teenage misfit who was robbing the gas station market Bobby had gone in to retrieve some change, four quarters for a dollar, so that later that day he could purchase a Nestle Crunch bar from the vending machine on the third floor of the office building he worked at just one block south of Ventura Boulevard in Sherman Oaks.
Bobby eventually quit his accounting job that same month, declaring to his boss that he lacked the patience for numbers. He said that numbers acted like children; stubborn in their way, always mocking him behind his back. Bobby’s boss thought this was an interesting perspective, and accepted Bobby’s two week notice. Bobby Fraley never executed the remaining two weeks of work. He simply started waking up whenever his body wanted to. Bobby started to put his morning toothpaste into his dark roasted coffee, claiming that he found a process to quicken his morning routine, meanwhile giving his breath the much needed minty boost that he strived for.
Bobby Fraley started to enjoy wearing capes, and eating spicy tacos at lunch from the various Mexican food trucks that The Valley had to offer. He was never one for the “hot stuff”, but had somehow morphed his eating habits to include the likes of jalapeno, cayenne, and innumerable sorts of hot sauces. Those seated at the outdoor tables near Bobby, would often hear sounds emanating from his direction while he ate.
“Yip yip yeeeooowww!” Bobby would yell, after taking several continuous bites of his fiery dish. And if there were less than seven people eating near him, he would usually buy the lot a round of horchata on his way out.
“Interesting,” said the middle-aged Mexican woman, sipping her milky drink, as she watched Bobby walk away while his red and black plaid polyester cape waved through the air behind him.
Bobby began taking long naps in the park after his lunchtime meals, letting the sun’s UV rays dive deep into his epidermis. Sometimes Bobby slept so long in one position, that the sunburns he developed left him days later with peeling skin across his forehead and nose. A devastating blow to many, but Bobby carried on in all confidence, even once getting his portrait taken from a local photographer while his face looked like a crab shell. The photographer asked Bobby if he could use the portrait in his upcoming art show. Bobby obliged the man, telling him his image was “fair use,” and to, “use at will”.
The portrait was such a hit, that Bobby’s photo was featured on page five of the Van Nuys Tribune. And in even greater news, the 20 x 24 inch framed portrait of Bobby Fraley was stolen from the art show just a day after that publication was released. A sad day in the art world for all. A sadder day for the sunburned man, who vowed to track down the thief of he, himself, in print form, Bobby Fraley.
- Part One.
Person of Interest (Part One)