BOSS

It’s stuffy down here. And it smells like a cheap motel room. And I feel slightly heavier than normal. What is going on? Oh, I get it. I’m at the bottom of the pile. Wait…why am I on the floor? He’s never just thrown me on the floor before. He must be drunk. I can’t think of any other reason why he’d let me soak up the nastiness of what’s beneath me and let me be buried under other people’s belongings. Aside from the cheap perfume, God knows what obscenities lurk in these other coats. I’ve learned about germs…I’ve seen him wash his hands enough to know that other people and their belongings cannot be trusted. So, where the hell is he? And why is it so loud in here? I already know I’m going to stink something fierce when we get out of here. I hope he gets me dry cleaned. I’m gonna need a thorough cleansing after this. Wait, why am I bitching? He hardly ever wears me anymore. I guess I should be grateful he took me out of that closet for a change. Talk about stuffy. Plus, I’ve gotten so bored of the other coats in there. Except the leather one. He makes me laugh. I miss him during the winter, but he always returns with tons of new stories about his adventures and he has some priceless jokes to share. He’s so lucky to be made of leather…he ages with so much more character and style than the rest of us. It’s grueling while he’s away. The others don’t really talk much and when they do, it’s always complaints about how they haven’t been worn in sooooo long or, I can’t believe he spilled this on me and didn’t clean it up. If there’s one thing I can’t stomach, it’s a whiner. Makes me want to sew up my outside pockets so I don’t have to hear it anymore. Just let me hibernate in peace. Speaking of which, I hope he remembers to put me on a thicker hanger when he gets back. Last time, I got put on one of those cheap wire ones and my shoulders were hurting for weeks! First time he put me on, I was in so much pain it felt like the sleeves were going to rip off! Man, I’m getting restless down here. It’s starting to feel like I’m under a pile of damp blankets. Being folded in half doesn’t help. If only I could see better.

I hear a voice! Is the pile getting lighter? I think it is! I can almost see…hey, there he is! Oh yeah, he’s definitely drunk. Especially if he’s hitting on her. Come on, you can do better than that! She probably owns the coat on top of me that stinks like last week’s wine. And her voice is annoying! Please, God, don’t bring her home with us. Okay, good…looks like he’s getting ready to go. I can’t wait to get out of here and feel the cool breeze on my fabric. Hey, what the? That not the right coat! Don’t put that on! Why isn’t someone telling him that’s not the right one? It’s too short, and…is that a woman’s coat? It looks ridiculous on him…can’t he see that??!! Great...there he goes, straight out the door! What the Sam Hell am I going to do now? Surely he’ll realize he’s made a mistake and come back to rescue me from this godforsaken place. But what if he doesn’t? What will become of me? Will I be reduced to one of those coats that gets thrown into a lost and found, only to become an orphan? I could end up crumpled into a ball at the bottom of some box with all the other rejects! Forever! Okay, slow down a little…you’re panicking. That’s only natural, but it will pass. Everything will be fine. Once he sobers up, he’ll be back. Just keep telling yourself that. Just keep repeating that over and over and over…

He’s not coming. It has to have been hours by now, and there’s hardly anyone still here. Except for that creepy guy across the room that keeps eyeing me. I can’t believe no one else has noticed me over here on the floor. But it is dark in here. Maybe once the lights come on, one of the staff will find me. Although the idea of lost and found repulses me, I’d much rather go there than anywhere with this dude. He keeps looking over here like he wants to buy me a drink. If only I could stare back. Or give him the finger. Finally, everyone’s leaving! Oh no…he’s coming over here. Maybe he’s just paying. That’s it…his tab is at the bar and…HEY! What the fuck??!! Put me down, asshole! Ow! Careful! You’re gonna rip the sleeves! Any knucklehead can see that I’m way too small to fit you. When he puts his arms down this is gonna hurt! AHHH!! Did I just feel a rip? I think I did! But where? I can’t exactly place it…damn, it’s cold out here! Where the fuck are we going? This is seriously your car? God bless, that hurt! You stupid assclown! You just shut part of my tail in the door. Oh, look at you! You can barely steer…was that another rip? I can’t believe this is happening! I could not imagine anything being worse than the time candle wax got spilled on me, but DING DING!

I’m not sure how old I am (although given how easily I ripped when my abductor jammed his arm in the sleeve, I’m guessing I’ve been around a while). The first moment I was aware of my existence came when I experienced a burst of pain as a label was being stitched inside of me. I figured it was there for my benefit, as it displayed my name, “Hugo Boss.” I assume that means I am royalty, as I’ve met many other coats over the years, and no one has ever had a name with the same amount of power and stamina as mine. In fact, all I have to say is “Boss” and I can see the other coats quiver on their hangers. It could be that and my domineering appearance. I am what is referred to as a “topcoat,” so I have broad shoulders (not unlike a football player) and my tail nearly touches the floor. I overheard once that I am made from a mixture of cashmere and wool, and even though I don’t know what those are, they sound very sophisticated (I’ve seen impressed looks on faces when my owner said the word “cashmere”). After my first memory, the next thing I recall is being inside a bag. I couldn’t see or hear anything…it caused me to panic at first, but after a while, I got used to it. After all, it was pretty much all I’d ever known.

I had no real concept of time back then, so God knows how long it was before that bag got unzipped. But once it did, I saw the face of my owner, and boy, was he happy to lay eyes on me! He wore me practically every time he went out in those days, and always hung me up next to the other exotic coats. It felt so good to be in the company of class. We’d share stories about where we’d been, and I have to admit I was envious of how much of the world some of those coats had seen. I was pretty much used to seeing the same three or four places my owner liked to frequent. I’m not dissing him mind you, as he did like to throw in a curveball every so often and go somewhere new and exciting. I was his favorite for a while, and I remember the sadness in the leather coat’s voice when he’d tell me about how often he used to be worn. His days of sorrow ended though, and the owner started taking him everywhere again and only broke me out on special occasions. And even then, he hardly hung me up anymore. I’d even take one of those nasty wire hangers over being folded up or tossed over a chair. But that’s what he’d do. To make matters worse, he even started leaving things in my pockets! It gets hard to see or speak clearly when you’ve got wads of paper crammed into every opening you’ve got!

That had become the story of my life: barely worn, pockets filled, tossed around. I’d seen a bigger resurgence lately, which was awesome since the leather coat was always resting on one of his chairs, meaning we never got to talk. That left me stuck with the endless whiners, and I was ready to find a way to pop my buttons off! But then I was part of my owner’s life again! One night, he even shared me with another person who was cold, each of them using one of my sleeves. That proved to be new and exhilarating, as it was the closest I had ever been to a woman (granted I had been lucky enough to chat with a few women’s coats before). I can say without hesitation she smelled a hell of a lot better than he did, and maybe I’m only saying that because he’d been wearing the same overpowering scent for all the time I’d been with him. But whatever…it was better than being stuck in the closet. And that leads up to tonight, when first, I was flung over a chair. My collar touched the floor, and unbeknownst to my owner, I was stepped on several times. Then he takes me somewhere and throws me on the floor, under a counter, where I get lost under a pile of other coats! I should have seen the outcome of this…

We’re finally stopping, thank CHRIST! Get me out of here…I don’t even care where we are. I just want to get away from this rancid stench. I just realized that I can’t even feel the part of my tail that got smashed in the door. Guess it was for the best. I must look a mess. I don’t even want to know. Where the fuck are we? OW!!! Thanks, asshole! You open the door, and NOW I can feel my tail again. And it’s all slimy! This is Hell! I am in Hell! I died under that pile of other coats and now I’ve gone to the most unsavory of places, and for what? I tried so hard to be a good coat, to not be too judgmental and at least acknowledge the other coats in the closet! I mean, come on, is it really my fault that I’m royalty? I didn’t ask for the Hugo Boss tag. Some human did, so why aren’t they the one being punished instead of me? It’s okay, Boss. Take it easy. Let’s see where this guy is taking us. Couldn’t be any worse than that death trap we were just in.

I guess I should eat those words…what a shithole. My owner’s place is no palace, but it is compared to this. Seriously? A box for a table? No wonder he’s stealing someone else’s coat. I’m amazed he could even afford to buy a drink there. He probably didn’t…bet my cashmere ass that he put them on some poor sap’s dime. I’ve seen the type. How many times is he going to wander around this room? For the love…I just wish he’d take me off! At least then I might be able to guess where I’ve been ripped. Blech…it smells like a sewer in here! I know you’ve got to be wondering how I could possibly know what a sewer (or anything else for that matter) smells like. And I reckon I owe you an explanation on how I can talk. Simple…I learned from listening to my owner talk to other people, and from the other coats in the many closets (and piles) I’ve spent time in. You could say it was equal to the combination of a baby learning to speak and studying a foreign language. Having both methods made me fluent, by my calculations, fairly quick. As for knowing when something smells bad, well, I’ve heard enough from my owner and been in enough situations to mirror his experiences to tell you to trust me when I say I know when something has a foul stench.

So, as I was saying, this place takes the cake when it comes to bad smells. In fact, saying it resembles a sewer might be too generous. Oh…careful, CAREFUL. Well, this is unexpected. He’s hanging me up…and in a closet, no less. Whoopty Doo! I wish I had legs and could dance! Cheap plastic hangers…figures. Now, about these rips…yep, just as I thought. Both of my sleeves are torn at the top, and…shit, the left side at the bottom. At least they’re both still attached. I’m sure there are plenty of coats out there that don’t have the same luxury…and I’m staring right at one. I’m in the presence of two other coats, one brown corduroy, patches on the sleeves, both of which have multiple safety pins holding them on (sloppily, I must say). The other is a lightweight thing, gray (I think?) with a tag that reads, “Members Only.” For such an official sounding name, it sure looks cheap. Should I be nice and talk to them? Maybe I can at least get an idea of how long they’ve been here. But one glance at the state of them doesn’t give me much hope for getting out of this…oh God, am I going to end up like that corduroy?? Tattered and old and pinned up?? Try not to think about it. Just keep your wits, and at least see if we can pump these two for information.

Hugo Boss: “Greetings! My name is Hugo Boss. How long have you guys been stuck here?”

Corduroy (in a low, broken down voice): “Hugo Boss, huh? There used to be another Hugo Boss here…was quite a bit shorter than you and was a lighter color. Had more tears too, after the Master wore him a bunch.”

Another Hugo Boss?? I’d heard rumors of others, but never had come across a coat that’d actually met one. I was intrigued and freaked out at the same time.

Hugo Boss: “Where is he now?”

Corduroy: “You got me. Last time we saw him, he was lookin’ pretty ragged. Most of his buttons were gone and the pockets were ripped. Probably wouldn’t have done anyone much good. Probably ended up in a dumpster somewhere, or under the Master’s bed."

Members Only: “It’s true. The Master likes fancy coats like you. Think he just kept me for novelty value.”

Hugo Boss: “What does that mean?”

Corduroy: “He was popular at one point in time, and there aren’t a lot of his kind around anymore. That’s why the Master never wears him. He doesn’t wear me much. I was afraid I was going to wind up like poor ole Hugo Boss, but then he put me in here and now here you are.”

Great. Just great. I was going to be worn until I was withered into shreds, and there wasn’t a blasted thing I could do about it. Yep, I was right. This is Hell.

Hugo Boss: “It’s probably pretty stupid to ask if there’s a way to get out of here. Anyone else who might come along and take us?”

Members Only: “Doubt it. If so, they’d be just like him. You think someone who would really wear a coat like you would have anything to do with him?”

Hugo Boss: “Good point. So, basically, you’re telling me we’re fucked.”

Members Only: “What does that mean?”

Hugo Boss: “We’re doomed.”

Members Only: “Yep. Well, you are. The Master digs me…thinks I’m gnarly, so I know I’ll always looks like this.”

As ugly as Members Only was, at least he was still in one piece. Lucky bastard.

Hugo Boss: “What is ‘gnarly’?”

Members Only: “Just a word my first owner used to say when he really liked something. Guess it just stuck with me. Where were you before this? Did a President wear you?”

Hugo Boss: “Ha! If only…My owner lives in a small space and had dinner with common looking people. Not the life I was expecting, but it sure as hell was better than this.”

Members Only: “Corduroy here was royalty.”

Hugo Boss: “No shit? Do tell!”

Corduroy: “Not much to tell…don’t remember anything before the Master brought me here. We believe I was royalty because I had some kind of a fancy crest on my pocket here.”

Sure enough, there was the outline of where a patch had clearly been. The area was now much lighter and flatter than the weary remains surrounding it.

Hugo Boss: “That’s strange. How do you not remember what happened before?”

Members Only: “His label’s gone. I’ve been in enough closets to know that if you lose your label, everything about you goes with it.”

That chilled every bit of my wool and cashmere existence, and made me wish I could do something to make sure my label was stitched on as tight as possible. Who knew where Corduroy’s label had fallen, and what if it had been put on another coat? Another coat could be living his life now, spreading his memories! I couldn’t imagine waking up all of the sudden to discover I had gone from a well-respected top coat, to some imitation knock off. Talk about an identity crisis! I’d heard horror stories before of coats whose labels were stolen and used on cheap coats to pass them off as “sophisticated.” I was thoroughly surprised that this was the first I’d heard losing your label meant losing your mind! My situation was getting worse by the moment. But then as I started to ponder on it more, I began to realize that maybe losing my label wouldn’t be such a bad thing. If I was going to end up like that other poor Hugo Boss coat, at least I could do it without having any memory of the coat I’d once been. At least I could get rid of the psychological pain, right? God, this was getting depressing.

I took what might be considered the equivalent of a deep breath and attempted to accept my fate. And then I got angry as I began to think about my owner prancing around town with some other coat on. While I was stuck spending the rest of my days in a musty closet, this other coat, probably confused as hell, is having the time of its life and if they aren’t, at least they are with normal people. How could he have been so fucking careless? I hope he misses me. I hope he goes back to that place and is colossally upset when I’m not there. Serves him right…I was the best coat that ever happened to him. He’ll never have another as comfortable and warm as me. He doesn’t deserve it! Not after this. He can freeze for all I care. Oh shit…what if he does get a new coat that’s warmer than me? What if he gets another Hugo Boss? And then moves into a big house and goes to exquisite places and that coat gets to experience all those luxuries while I’m falling to pieces in here? And who knows how many other coats will fill these empty hangers? Why if I end up the only coat and there’s no one left to talk to? The only real hope at this point is that this guy, the Master as the others called him, wears me somewhere and forgets me. That’s the best possible scenario…it’s the only one.

I’m alone…have been for what feels like an eternity. I’m not sure exactly when the other coats were taken. It’s been so long I barely remember what they looked like anymore. I seem to recall a blazer with patches on the sleeves. Yeah, that sounds right. The closet opened, a shadowy figure took him, hanger and all, and that was the last time I saw him. The other one, which was not a blazer (and that’s all I can really say about it), just disappeared. Coats can’t sleep, but I must have been in a daze, since I have no recollection of when the other coat left the closet. I just remember he was gone and it was just me. My consciousness is getting weaker by the moment…not sure if it’s because the tears in my sleeves were never mended, or because I’ve been alone such a long time. God, how I wish I could take my patch off and start fresh. It wouldn’t help in the long run, but at least I’d get to have some kind of a new beginning. Wait…what was that? That’s the first sound I’ve heard on the other side of the door in quite some time. It’s loud, like someone is banging on the wall. Was that a scream? What were those pops? WHOA! Now there are holes in the door! Oh man, how glorious it is to see light! Someone’s coming. A person! Is that the Master? Wait, what do I care? Please just take me out of here! What’s he looking for? He’s not wearing a coat, so he needs to be looking at ME! YES!!! Careful, now! I can’t believe it…sunlight! My tired old…whatever I’m made out of has missed you so much! I’m FREE!!! I’m FREE!!! I’m…

What was I saying?


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