Friday, August 14, 2015

The Alarm Clock at the End of the World


Part 35
The Following Afternoon.

“Do you mind not talking about slimy towels? I  have neighbors, you know.”

He flushes the toilet and wanders out. “Let’s go.”

I stare at him a few seconds more without saying a word.

“Wait!” he cries, jabbing a finger in the air and the other hand in his pocket. “I’ve got to call Mephis first.” He takes his cell phone out of his pants pocket and holds it up triumphantly, dialing with his thumb. “I told him I’d call if we went out tonight.”

“Don’t invite Mephis,” I moan. “Jesus, Nepotism, he’s the last person I want to see tonight.”

“Hey. Mephis there? Nepotism. Baldwin.”

“Come on, Nep, I don’t want him going out with us.”

“Hey. Nepotism. ‘Sgoin’ on? Not much? Yeah, me either. Just hanging out with Dr. Filth.”

“If you invite that pompous asshole to the bar, I will never speak to you again.”

“Yeah. We’re just about to head over to the Spot, grab a few beers, maybe get some wings.” He looks up at me. “Is it wing night?”

“You asshole. You fucking asshole!”

“Uh huh. Uh huh. Yeah. Well, maybe we’ll see you there. All right, all right. Have a good one.” He turns off his cell phone and turns to me. “He’s going to meet us there.”

“I can’t stand that guy. Why the hell would you invite him out? Especially when we have so much going on? How are we supposed to save Eva Lorraine with Mephis dogging our heels?”

“You barely met him.”

“He’s got wood for me.”

“You think that about everyone.”

“I’m an attractive man,” I say modestly, hand to my gut.

“You will be happy to hear that Mephis wants to help you with another episode of ‘the Unnatural.’”

“I’m not going to stand here and argue with you without a beer.” The front seat of his car is still wet with slime, so despite his protestations, I sit amid the chaos and destruction of the back seat.

“I’m not your fucking chauffeur,” he grumbles, buckling his seatbelt. “Fucking cab driver.”  I’m still trying to find my belt amid the piles of clothing, books, fast-food wrappers, CD cases, folders, papers, and fliers. “After all, you’re the one who made the mess.”

“You shot the guy!”

“To save your life!” He shakes his head and pulls out of the driveway. “Do you want me to clean your bathroom too? You could have gotten rid of your clothes, or put down newspapers, or something to keep you from destroying my only means of transportation.”

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