Dear Mr. Fantasy…
Here is my submission to this weeks writing prompt, provided by the Stories From The Jukebox Newsletter (link below).
It’s a short story inspired by the classic song Dear Mr. Fantasy by Traffic.
The phone rang.
He did think about letting it go through to the answering machine. It had been a long week.
Business is business, though.
He answered.
“You’re through to Fantasy Futures. This is Mr. Fantasy speaking. How can we make your dreamland come alive?”
The voice on the other end of the line took a second to respond. When she did, she seemed a little nervous.
He didn’t think anything of it, not then anyway. It was fairly normal for customers to be apprehensive about contacting Fantasy Futures, particularly if it was their first time.
“I was hoping to arrange a time when I could come to your place of work to discuss my needs further?”
“I can certainly arrange that with you now if that’s how you’d like to proceed. We are able to take bookings over the phone if that’s more convenient?”
“I’d prefer to speak to someone face to face if that’s acceptable? I think I’d be more comfortable that way.”
She seemed to have got over any nerves quite quickly. Her tone now was confident and assured.
“Of course, when were you wanting to come in?”
“Would you have any time tomorrow? I am rather keen to move forward with this quickly, if at all possible.”
He started to decline as politely as he could.
“We don’t normally open on a Saturday. What about Monday…”.
She didn’t let him finish.
“I really do need to speak with someone urgently. I’d be happy to pay you extra for your time.”
There was something about the hint of genuine need in her voice that made him agree. Well, that and the promise of extra income. He didn’t have anything on tomorrow anyway, so it wasn’t a big deal.
“Can you be here by, let’s say, nine thirty tomorrow morning?”
“Yes, that would be acceptable. Thanks very much. I will see you then.”
“And who will I be meeting with?” he asked. Flipping his notebook open and picking up a pen as he did.
“See you tomorrow” was her reply.
And then she hung up.
She was waiting for him on the street, just outside the door that contained the narrow staircase that led up to the Fantasy Futures office.
Not the most salubrious of business premises, but as yet, fantasy wasn’t making him rich.
“Good morning,” he said.
“You’re late,” she replied.
Ordinarily, that would have annoyed him. He might even have let her know that. She was a potential paying customer, though, and the customer is always right. Especially customers that look like she did.
She was absolutely beautiful. The kind of beautiful that rendered his normal morning spikiness redundant. There was an old-style movie star quality about her.
Think Jane Russell in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, especially if, like he did, you’ve a thing for gorgeous brunettes.
“My apologies.”
“We did agree nine thirty.”
“Yes, I’m sorry. Shall we go in?”
“Lead the way.”
As they made their way up the staircase to the locked office door, he did attempt some additional small talk.
“Have you travelled far?”
She ignored him.
She didn’t speak to him again until they were in the office and she was sitting across from him at his desk. It was his natural environment, yet still she had a way of unsettling him.
“How can I help?”
She studied him for a few seconds before finally responding.
“I am led to believe that you help people realise their fantasies. I’d like you to help me with mine.”
“And what might that be?”
She looked me straight in the eye.
“I’d like you to help me commit the perfect murder. My fantasy is to kill someone and get away with it.”
If he’d had his morning coffee yet, he’d have spit it out in shock.
“Er, that’s not really the kind of thing we do here. The fantasies we provide have a strict ‘no law breaking’ rule.”
For the first time, she smiled. Somewhere a thousand ships were launched.
One heart fluttered, his.
“I’m joking, Mr. Fantasy. What I want is completely legal.”
“That’s a relief,” he replied, trying on a mildly flirtatious approach and smiling as he said it.
She didn’t notice. Instead, she pressed on.
“My name is Emily. I have a fantasy that I will be the last ever performer on MTV.”
Note: MTV, the world's first 24-hour music broadcaster, is to stop showing rolling pop videos in the UK after almost 40 years when it closes five channels at the end of the year.
He waited a second before responding; he wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t another joke.
“Nice to meet you, Emily. I must say, that’s quite an unusual fantasy. Most of our customers just want to drive a fancy car or to feel what it’s like to be a millionaire for a day.”
“I’m already a millionaire, and I have several fancy cars.”
“So why this very specific request?”
“Well, everyone knows who was in the first video on MTV. I want to be remembered in the same way for being the last.”
He had no idea who was the first performer on MTV, but he didn’t want her to know that.
Do you know what the first video on MTV was? Answer at the end of the story.
“Something like that would be very expensive.”
“Will it be possible, Mr. Fantasy? That’s all I need to know.”
“Nothing is impossible, Emily. That’s our motto here at Fantasy Futures.”
“So we have a deal. I have the contact number of someone high up at MTV who will help you to make this happen.”
“If you know someone already, what do you need me for?”
“Sorting it out myself is not the fantasy. I want to believe they want me for my star quality, not that I used money and influence to obtain the opportunity.”
And that was that. The wheels of fantasy were in motion.
The day of the making of the video arrived quickly.
Everything fell into place surprisingly easily. He did reflect as he made his way to the studio how easy it was to turn fantasy into reality if you had enough money.
He didn’t see her straight away. Apparently, she was in her changing room with the makeup team.
While he waited, he checked in with the crew who would be shooting the video that day.
They all seemed very nice and ultra-professional. All except the floor manager who was surly, bordering on downright rude.
“Don’t mind him,” one of the camera operators whispered. “He’s married to her, although not for much longer. She dumped him for someone else, but nobody knows who. He probably thinks it’s you.”
“I wish.”
“Don’t we all. At least in his case, the millions he stands to get in the divorce might ease the pain.”
And then she made her entrance.
Absolutely stunning in a red, figure-hugging dress. Hair and makeup immaculate. She saw him and made a beeline to where he was standing.
Everyone watched as she swayed over towards him; she made sure they did.
“Mr. Fantasy, thanks very much for setting this up. It’s so nice that you recommended me to the people at MTV and fantastic that they’ve seen fit to give me such a prestigious honour.”
“You deserve it,” he replied, going along with her fantasy.
“Well, I suppose, I better go and do my thing.”
She then leaned in and whispered, “I wonder if you can be a darling and go and fetch something from my dressing room for me? There are some papers I need someone to sign. I just know he’ll make a scene, and I don’t want anyone ruining my big moment.”
“I suppose I can do that. Is it your husband who needs to sign them?”
“Yes, please hand them to him as the cameras are rolling. He’s an arsehole, but he’s also a professional. If he’s going to do anything, it won’t be until after the director shouts cut.”
“Why does it have to be now?”
“I have my reasons. Will you do it?”
She was gorgeous; he was smitten. Of course, he agreed.
As she began to sing, she caught his eye and smiled.
Dear Mister Fantasy, play us a tune,
Something to make us all happy,
Do anything take us out of this gloom,
Sing a song, play guitar,
Make it snappy.
If there was any chance of him not complying with her wishes, they evaporated in that moment.
The thing was, there were cameras everywhere. Not just on her, but throughout the studio.
As a result, when he handed the envelope to her husband, it was captured on film.
When it was opened it a couple of minutes later, releasing a, still unidentified, toxic substance that killed the husband, and made a few others in his vicinity seriously ill, it didn’t take long to find out who had supplied what was essentially the murder weapon.
All played out while she was on stage making an MTV video. A perfect alibi for the perfect murder. Especially as there was nothing linking the envelope to her and nobody had heard the conversation they’d had.
During the investigation, evidence was uncovered that appeared to show that Mr. Fantasy was being blackmailed by the victim.
Money really can make the impossible seem possible.
There was a motive to back up the footage of him committing murder.
At his trial, the jury didn’t take long to find him guilty and he was sentenced according to the rule of law.
He had helped her fantasy become real. The one she’d first told him about in the office.
“I’d like you to help me commit the perfect murder. My fantasy is to kill someone and get away with it.”
She hadn’t been joking after all.
Answer: The first video played on MTV was Video Killed The Radio Star by The Buggles.
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There's a great lesson hidden here - people will often do this, admit their true motive and then say na just kidding...
Awesome story Phill, just like poor Mr Fantasy, I never saw it coming either.
Quite a twist there! Great tale 0n the Mr. Fantasy prompt. Poor guy...