Nov. 16, 2009

Chapter 12: Fuzzies

Yeah, so, apparently, when your meetup is the one that organizes what becomes a "riot" (whatever), you have to explain what happened to more than one police officer, and usually down at the sheriff's department, and you think they're gonna do the whole good cop bad cop thing ("Hey, Rose, you gotta tell us where they hid the diamonds." "Screw the diamonds. I'm going to lock you up, Rose. I'm gonna put you in a box filled with rats and then fill it with acid. You wanna know how that feels, Rose? You wanna know what that's like? It hurts Rose. It hurts like you wouldn't believe." "Just tell us where you hid the diamonds, Rose. It's best for everyone." "Nah, Rose. Don't tell us. Let me sick the rats on you, Rose. Please. I've been dying to sick rats on somebody, all week. I had such a frustrating week, Rose. I had such a hard week. I just want to make one dirty low-life suffer. Can't you give me that pleasure, Rose? Can't you help an old cop out?" "Rose, I can't stop her. This is how she gets. She's going through a divorce." "Don't tell her about my divorce! What's wrong with you! No, Rose, listen. You didn't just hear-- you know what, forget it. Now I gotta lock you up for the rest of your life. Now you gotta die." "Because of the divorce thing?" "Yes, because of the divorce thing. I'm trying not to tell anyone." "Except me?" "Yes, except you. You know you're my best friend, Catalo." "I... Really?" "Yeah, of course. I'd tell you anything, man." "I'd tell you anything too, Liger." "Thanks. That really means a lot." "And, you know, since we're sharing, and all... I don't think your husband was right for you." "I... I guess I can see that." "I mean... I mean, I don't mean..." "No, I get it. Yeah, he was kind of a fuck-bitch." "He was a complete fuck-bitch. He was made of fuck-bitch." "Thanks for being so understanding, Catalo." "You know I'll always be there for you. You know I love you." "You..." "Sorry, I mean, you know, I mean..." "Do... do you love me, Catalo?" "..." "Catalo?" "... Yes, okay, yes. I love you. Yes. I've loved you since the moment you walked into my life with your gigantic nose and your obsession with pumpkins. Yes, I dream about riding unicorns naked together. Yes, sometimes, when you don't think I'm looking at you, I just stare and wonder what your eyebrows taste like. Okay, okay, Liger?" "..." "I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." "No, no, it's okay. I... I love you too." "You... do?" "Of course I do, Catalo. How could I not? You come in here every day with your side burns and your monocle and that weird twitch your eye has where it looks like you're winking at everything I say, so it's like we've always got this secret message going on. How could I not stay up at night wondering what it would be like to... play detective." "Oh, baby." "..." "Uhh... speaking of which, Rose." "Hey, if we say that Rose got belligerent and violent, think we could lop off the rest of this thing and maybe spend some... uhh... a bit of time to... talk about this?" "I... No, I think that's an excellent idea. Rose, too bad, huh. Looks like you're gonna be going away for a while. nothing personal." (opening the door) "We need some backup! Violent perp! Violent perp!" "Anyway, nice meeting you Rose, we're gonna..." From me: "Okay! Wait! I'll tell you where the diamonds are, just wait!" Later: "Boy, Catalo, that in-love cop act works great!" "Yes... act..." "I can't believe nobody ever notices the camera in the room showing everything that's going on." "..." "Anyway, I'm heading home. Johnny's got a late night with some Middle Eastern thing, so it's my turn to make dinner. See you later!" "Bye! ... Ugh... What a fuck-bitch."), but they just have you fill out lots of paperwork, talking about what happened.

Anyway, since it was his house, Stan has to fill out most of it. He sits in a plastic chair in the lobby with a clipboard up just under his eyes, and I can see the eyes skimming the document below and then, every so often, jumping up to glare at Sen, Gully, and I, and... well... mostly Sen. He's got this bruise on his left temple that looks a bit like Elvis Presley eating a corn on the cob.

Sen is, in turn, fiddling with one of the ears on her costume, which has a tear in it, moving her fingers like she is sewing it back together. She looks over at me and does a "How did this happen? / I'm sorry if I ruined your life" shrug-smile. I roll my eyes and smile back at her, attempting to signify, "Whatever. Me and the sheriff's department are old friends by now, sitting on opposite sides of the law like bookends" (which, I mean, that's a lie, but nobody's gonna sue you for lying with facial expressions... I... hope), but might come off as, "I mock what you say! And, I am happy to have discovered the perfect method by which to kill you..." She goes back to fiddling with her ear.

Gully is asleep and snoring lightly. He's on the plastic chair next to me and keeps slowly falling over and onto my shoulder, which is all well and good, except that he's got this weird bruise on his cheek, so the fall wakes him up with a start, and he sits up, then back, then slowly back over. Perpetual motion device? Consider yourself invented.

This process lasts for... some unquantifiable amount of time (between ten minutes and two to the three-hundredth power years)... before Mickey P walks in, looking exhausted and maybe just a little bit high.

He spots me and says, "Well, if it isn't Rose the rabble-rouser."

Sen and Gully both look over at him. Stan even looks up briefly from his clipboard to glare.

I say, "Hi, uhh, Mickey. These are some... uhh... friends of mine." There's always this point when I'm introducing people in which this utter terror seizes over me, because - what if I forget these people's names? I mean, they're my friends; they'd never forgive me - which, with all the nervousness, means that I completely blank out on what I'm doing, and then I really do forget these people's names, so I just go on autopilot, and hope that my mouth remembers how to form the words of the people I'm introducing... this is particularly difficult when the person's name sounds an awful lot like food I eat on a regular basis.

Sen says, "I'm Sen! And, this here's Gully;" she points to Gully, who smiles; "and hiding over there is Stan." Stan looks up briefly, then back down.

Mickey P says, "Nice to... Oh, holy shit? Stan, man, you guys were the riot punks. What a Karate Chop!"

Sen says, "Indeed."

Mickey P says, "You know? I heard there were two Barneys there throwing down. Man! Barneys getting into some Barney. That shit is antediluvian. I ain't gonna have no diluving here, you know?"

Sen says, "I... don't think..." She pauses. "Anyway, what's the story? Are we in something deep and smelly here?"

Mickey P says, "Aww... no ma'am. We just get the basic info, keep tabs in case anyone's got a sue-finger, and maybe lob a bit of a fine over the fence to you."

Sen says, "Basic as in... names?"

Mickey P says, "Names, addresses, size of first lost tooth, baby-weight, the whole tostada."

Sen says, "Fuck."

Mickey P says, "Forgot your name there, Baboochka?"

Sen says, "No... I..." A pause. "... yes...?"

Mickey P says, "Aww... shit cakes. Means we gotta shut you up with the no names, all these Charles Manson types, growing hair every which way, and demanding that they be given exemption on account of them not having names, so no jury would charge them with anything. Ha!" He winks at me.

Sen says, "How long would I...?"

Mickey P says, "Til the trial, since there'd have to be a trial now. Big old thing, too. Probably end up on CSPAN. Girl gets life 'cause she hasn't got a name."

Sen says, "Life?!"

Mickey P says, "Juries hate a person, they don't got a name."

Sen says, "I... I'm Sen."

Mickey P says, "I know you are, Babs."

Sen intones, "..."

Mickey P says, "Anyway, gotta mince the old biscuit if you catch. Later, Rose!"

I say, "uhh... bye!"

Mickey P says, "And, don't forget to send my fuzzies to Brucie when you're done getting thrown in the brig every night."

He walks away.

I say, "You know, Sen.. He was joking."

Sen rolls her eyes and says, "Duh. But, hopefully he'll be all sure I'm a ditz now and blame this whole disaster on Stan. Or, better, on"

I say, "I... guess..."

Sen says, "Anyway. What the Hell is a Brucie and why aren't you devoting all your fuzzies to me?"

Nov. 17, 2009 →



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