May Fool's Day

                Vic Cusoma topped his drink, never letting an ounce of the incredulity show upon his face. Unlike agents in other fields, there were no posters adorning the office in which he sat, nor were there trophies, knick-knacks, or any other subtle hints as to who his clients might be. If someone walking through the door didn’t already know that, then it meant he wasn’t properly doing his job.

                Across from him sat a notably unnotable woman, bland khakis, a plain white shirt, and sensible shoes. The only aspect of her that demanded attention were the comical glasses with springs attached to plastic eyes perched atop her nose. As Vic sipped the top off his drink, the creaking of the dangling springs echoed through the office.

                “There are some obstacles to overcome with that plan.” Never problems, because problems indicated something was going wrong and needed to be fixed. Obstacles were natural difficulties in the terrain, inherent and unavoidable. It was easy to get mad at an agent over a problem, harder to complain about obstacles. “First of which is crowding of the market. I understand you want to be more distinctive, but I don’t think copying the one right before you is the solution you’d hoped for.”

                “That’s why I’m setting mine at the end,” she protested. “Sixty days of space between them. Entirely different vibe.”

                Squeaks from Vic’s chair drowned out the small springs as he leaned back, feeling the twinge in his lower spine settle. “Let’s circle back on that, it might be a moot point. If you wanted to ape someone else’s holiday, there’s precedent. But, to be frank, you’d be better served picking one a little more popular. The Day of Fools has lost a lot of luster over the past decade, I’m not sure how excited everyone would be to suddenly have a second.”

                With a sigh, the woman reached up and removed her comedic glasses, resting them in her lap. “I realize that, which is why I picked it. You think the others are going to let me get away with ripping off their tentpole events? Heck no. But April barely even acknowledges this one lately, I figure if I can put my own stamp on it, maybe it could be fun. A fixer-upper.”

                “I still say you’re better off building on what you’ve already got,” Vic reiterated.

                “What I’ve got?” The rolling of her eyes was outstanding, like a teenager being lectured on the last day of school. “What I’ve got is a timing problem. I’m stuck right before June, the month that kicks off the start of summer. Summer break, family vacations, road trips; people look forward to June the moment August arrives. I’m the last month of reality they have to get through before sunshine and fun.”

                “That’s like Friday,” Vic noted. He’d have considered it poor taste to namecheck another client so blatantly, but in this case the similarities drew an apt comparison. “People love Friday.”

                She shook her head. “They like Friday because Friday lasts a day. Less, really. They wake up halfway to noon then bolt from work a few hours after. Take that feeling and stretch it out to fill a month, people don’t respond the same.”

                “So your solution is to add a big cap at the end, something for them to celebrate while it’s still your time, even if it does technically serve as a kickoff to June.”

                “My idea was purposefully non-summer-related,” she pointed out.

                Wishing he’d poured himself a larger glass, Vic took a generous sip, rolling her ideas around. This was dangerously close to stepping on June’s toes, but then again, June wasn’t one of his clients. Sure, he’d snagged July, October, December, and even that odd-duck January, but June preferred a more hands-on style of management. It was hard to argue with the results, even if Vic was certain he could have done more given the same resources. Most importantly, however, it meant he had no compunctions about helping his client succeed at the risk of stealing some of June’s good fortune.

                “Alright, May, I’m going to ask you a question, and think it over before you respond. There’s not a wrong answer, I’d just recommend knowing what the truth is for you.” Vic leaned in conspiratorially, his chair ruining the clandestine aura with more loud squeaks. “How bad do you really want this?”

                Most of his clients would have snapped a reply off-the-cuff, though January was a hard one to predict. May took his advice, though, contemplating the query for several minutes. That was what he liked about May; even if her ideas weren’t always exciting, she had a willingness to try that few others could match.

                “I am tired of being a stepping stone, but I know there are many points of joy within me already. So long as I don’t have to put my existing holidays at risk, I am willing to do what is necessary.”

                That took a couple of options from the table, most of which Vic wouldn’t have recommended in the first place. The sort of violent shakeup demanded to alter a month’s entire structure was a messy affair, rarely worth the bother. From his desk, Vic plucked an modest-looking pen whose worth was virtually incalculable, such was the magic contained inside.

                Flipping over one of his own business cards, Vic scrawled an address onto it, setting the pen carefully aside once the task was complete. “Then what you need is something new. We humans can be a bit plodding on that front, takes a while for things to come around, let alone bake-in. You’ll want to talk with someone who has a different, more immediate approach. Plenty of beings who fit that bill can be found here.” With that, he slid the card over.

                “Isn’t there someone you could introduce me to?” May asked.

                “If only. Unfortunately, I only represent temporal-based entities, what you’ll find there is designated as existential. The sorts who can affect large-scale change, like the creation and acceptance of a new, end of the month holiday blowout event.”

                Slowly, as if she were afraid of it, May accepted the card. It vanished at her touch, disappearing to wherever those such as her held their trinkets. “You really think they can help me get May Fools’ Day off the ground?”

                Vic resisted the urge to finish his drink in response, though not easily. “I think they can do a lot, and you should keep an open mind. Also, maybe ditch the glasses.”

                May stood, giving a small nod before re-donning her eyeball-spring glasses. “On that front, I’m afraid we simply don’t see eye-to-eye.”

                Then she was gone, leaving a very confused Vic alone in his office, left to ponder whether or not May had secretly been hiding a sense of humor all along.