Art/Proze

Abi - Albanian Snow White
Altin Topi
Alb-Club October 14, 2001

Abi, here she is, only a twenty-one years old artist and somehow, - without thinking too much about the logic, - she looked at life as something to sneak up on her and pounce. Over six month ago, nobody knew exactly, when this started, she thought it is not possible for a girl like her to die of chronic dumb judgment, and with this mood of thinking, she slipped away into the Skyway to Tomorrowland. Once welcomed to Tomorrowland, Abi didn't find there the Aladdin's Oasis. It was for sure the country of Disneyland, but the one time, Albanian Snow White Girl, found out that Steven Spielberg didn't exactly come knocking on her apartment door. For a while she dreamt of the school thing, and then worked an array of bad jobs and worse jobs, - starting first as a dishwasher, further waitress, later as a hostess. She had to submit resumes to Baskin-Robbins, JC Penney's, Lord & Taylor, but finally her resume as the Albanian Snow White landed her in a cocktail place on Hollywood Universe as a part-time Disney gig.


She is a natural dirty blonde, blue eye, with the gap of goodluck between her front teeth. She is an artist, at least with some confidence was being said so six months ago. She was the golden girl. She didn't have worries. Hakuma fucking Matata. Oh God grant me the serenity to blah, blah, blah. She never smoked before, Snow White does not smoke, but what a hell, she does now. Here, she is not any more the Snow White. That song, "Stupid Girl", her personal anthem is playing on the radio again. It looks that now she has become a sequence of Cinderella, but it is not the final sequence. It is still hope that that sequence will be played for her one day.

One day at the outdoor coffee, it might be a man sits down at her table. He comes here a lot. People seem to sense the right off. Maybe her goodluck gap between her front teeth is assisting her. She has a compassionate face, a kind of attractive face. Like a beacon, her face pulls people in, strangers out of accord with good fortune, survivors and talkers, victims of the shipwreck of living.

But the man is different, he entertains, you have to admit. He led a colorful life. He is funny, almost. You hear of his days as a kid with aspirations of a much larger life, of all his hitchhiking he did, how he zigzagged the country to become at the end, the Agent.

"Listen Abi, - I'm an Agent, a potential-star-stalker? I'm guessing you could do better. I know a girl who played in Forest Gump. I was her Agent; if you do not believe me I can give you her number." The Agent was playing for both scenes, Snow White and Pinocchio. Abi shrugged, she never had seen it. He was humming softly to himself, a tune from the "Hideddle-de-dee, an actor life for me", but with a very serious face he was leafing very cautiously through a coffee-table book on the art of Pinocchio. He was telling her how famous and rich he was going to make her this was an opportunity of lifetime. How she would get all the sitcoms and soap operas parts that Elise Dushku and Alicia Silverstone turned down, how she would have a condo in Malibu to invite her would-be Albanian artist friends, opening the doors of opportunities for all of them.

"You have got to be kidding. Do I look that stupid and pathetic that I'd to go for something like that? Tell me, OK, because If I do? I might as well kill myself right now."

Abi please, just keep an open mind, - insisted the Agent. What is this Snow White crisis? I've got a call. Hello? This is Pepsi. Who was that blonde girl I saw on the tube last night? Abi Borebardha? Get her in there; you want her for your Super Bowl spot."

"Please, - Abi told him. "National commercials are impossible. There are millions of girls for that small spot, for the smallest part. What about my English? I'm here, in Tomorrowland, not more than six months."

"What about Antonio Banderas, you speak better English than him. I was his Agent too. They we'll pay you a million dollar, maybe two million." he glanced at her. Believe it or not, the Lion King is certainly a secondary classic, but nobody can rank him in the same group as Cinderella. He really thought the scam was foolproof, and he had a chance to pull it off. He looked at his watch giving the impression that he didn't have to much time left to wait. He took few bills from his wallet and laid them down on the table. Abi raised her eyebrows in question, unable to guess why so much of tip was left on the table. Oh, she thought my fucking God, why such a big tip? What other explanation could there possibly be?

The Agent laughed. Maybe this old dud was a nice man, a dad and a granddad who gave kids dollar bills. She wake up and a questions flickered her mind. - "You have an accent too; you are not a born American? Certainly not, but I always tip generously beautiful girls like you? Who knows? It is always a good chance with the sweet weepy-eyed Disney gig blonde girls.

Abi turned back around. "What is wrong with you? The Agent flipped his cell phone in the air and gave her a wink. "We were almost there." he said.