What started as a questionable choice in food last evening, turned out to lead one man to discover the answer to his entire existence. Jacob Frye, a 33-year-old accountant from Glendale, had been eating with his family at Big Joe’s Crabs on Baseline Road, when he was in the midst of an existential crisis.
“I was lost,” he said. “It all seems like such a blur. My family was enjoying the seafood platter, talking about this and that, and all I could think about was how empty I was inside.”
But it wasn’t due to the food that Frye felt empty. “The seafood platter is a wonderful meal for a very reasonable price,” he clarified. “I just felt like I wasn’t going anywhere in life; I didn’t have a clue of what I should do or why. I mean, here I was, an accountant with a loving family, and yet reality itself was taunting me. It was overwhelming.”
And that’s when the crab legs he had eaten began to disagree with him. “I had about ten or fifteen of those suckers, and they just ripped right through me,” he said. “Some nights are better than others, but those bastards were practically tearing a hole in my stomach."
Jacob then excused himself from the table to find relief in the restroom. A witness, who wishes not to be named, was able to corroborate the story. “Yeah, his kids were really sucking down that crab meat, but he was ruining the whole thing eating like he was. It was about time when he finally left for the bathroom.”
“And that’s when everything changed for me,” Jacob said.
According to Frye’s testimony, when he entered the stall he took note of the various pieces of graffiti scribbled on the walls, then focused on what would change his life forever.
“It wasn’t very big, but it was enough for me to make out with my glasses,” he told us. “It was a phone number, and above it said, ‘I’ll blow your mind’. So I figured, what the hell, I’ll ring him up.”
When he dialed the number from inside the stall, it allegedly took three rings before the arcane scribe answered the phone. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but there was a calm in his voice, an almost zen quality,” Jacob explained. “He told me to meet him later that night on Country Club underneath the Broadway bridge, and to bring a pen.”
That same night as his family slept soundly in their beds, Jacob met with the man, who he identified as “Roach”.
“I almost felt dirty, like I was sneaking around and doing something wrong. I was getting ready to go home, but that’s when Roach showed up.”
According to Jacob, the man arrived with “two cups of coffee and a grin.”
“He told me to follow him,” he said, “so he took me to an abandoned warehouse.”
Though hesitant, Jacob continued to elaborate on his meeting with the bathroom penman. “We talked for hours. We discussed Nietzsche’s literary proclamation of the death of God, Albert Camus’s thoughts on absurdism, Jean-Paul Sartre’s No Exit. It really was an enlightening and refreshing discourse. By the end of it, he’d helped me build a pragmatic and reasoned framework through which I could find meaning in every aspect in my life.”
In an unlikely turn of events, Jacob Frye had finally found his way out of the existential impasse that had plagued him for years. Now, he lives free and clear of mortality’s shadow, appreciating the womb of fleeting peace and happiness that comfort him like a loving mother. While he can’t recall every aspect of his chance meeting with the lavatory philosopher, we asked Jacob if he could identify a single moment that stood out to him during their time together.
“Well, probably when he fucked me in the ass,” he said. “He’s a true power-bottom. Hard to find those these days.”
Whether the philosophy Jacob Frye has found will continue to fulfill him with a sense of purpose remains to be seen. But for now, he is grateful that despite the bad crab, he was able to take a leap of faith and rid himself of the shackles he’d been restrained with for so long.
“You can’t grow unless you leave your comfort zone,” Jacob told us. “Roach said that.”
For more information, please contact Roach on his “burner”. The number can be found in the mens room at Big Joe’s Crabs, where if it isn’t crawling, it’s not Big Joe’s.