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He called his wife on the phone. There was nothing else to do. He
had
masturbated two times already that day. Not a thing on the television
and besides
it was raining out. Nothing inside, nothing outside.
She picked up and said hello. The second he heard her voice he
regretted
calling. He could have gone out and stood naked in the freezing rain.
He could
have swallowed a fist full of sleeping pills and unplugged the phone.
He could have tried to get
it up one more time and go for three strikes on the ceiling. But he
didn't. He called
his wife and now it was too late to turn back.
"How are you doing Marie?"
A loud and long sigh came from the other end. He heard her suck in
her breath and
he braced himself.
"Well you know the guy downstairs is supposed to shovel the
walkway. The motherfucker
pays less rent than I do because he’s supposed to help around this
shithole
apartment. I got home from work to find that not only was the
sidewalk not done but the
son of a bitch never got around to the driveway. I had to park on the
street with all the other
assholes who live on this god forsaken road. So I went to his
apartment to find out why
nothing had been done. You know me Vince, you don’t want to piss me
off! So I go and
bang on his damn door. Blam blam blam blam! His wife answers stinking
of booze. That
lady is fucked up. Do you remember the time she came up to my place
when you were over
fixing the sink? She started screaming at me to keep the banging down
and I was like
"listen
lady, my fucking husband is over here fixing my sink and if you don’t
like the fucking sounds
you can kiss my big fat clogged up sink of a ass!"
Holy shit that was
a riot! Anyway, she opens
the door and I ask her why her fucking husband has not shoveled the
sidewalk and all. I mean he
had 24 hours to get the damned job done. Of course I didn’t say that!
I just said
"hey, is Frank around?
He was supposed to shovel and all."
And then, you know what she said
to me? You are not going to
believe this. She said that Frank cut his fingers while slicing a
fucking ham and got 66 stitches on his
left hand! I almost shit myself! So of course I asked her how he was
doing. Just to be human you know.
She said he was in the tub
relaxing with a drink. And you know what this means? Don't you? This
means that no one is going to shovel
the fucking snow! I'm going to be parking on that street for weeks!
Jesus Christ. Why me? Of all the places
I could be living, I had to pick a place with a sloppy meat cutter as
the handyman idiot."
"Why don't you call the landlord and let him know the walkway is not
being cleared. I'm sure he would want
to know."
"What do you think I am? A idiot or something! I called him. Of
course I called him. Jesus! I called him the second
I got my boots off. He said that as long as Frank is laid up..that's
what he said! Laid up! What a moron!
As long as Frank is
laid up that maybe I could shovel for a while. He said he would
knock off 30 bucks from the rent. The fucking
gall of that fat bastard! Who the fuck does he think I am? Some
lesbian butch? I told him to
cram it. I said he could stick that rickety old shovel up his over
used asshole. That’s what I said Vince. So help
me, that’s what I said. He couldn't believe it! He went silent. Then I
said,
"no way Jose"
and slammed the phone
down. I nearly busted the fucking thing! Haha! So, hell, I don't
know what to do. Hey, hold on for a sec."
He heard her put the phone down on the table. He knew that table
well. He bought it about 5 summers ago at the
local Kmart. He carried the damned thing stuck in some cheap box up
those stairs in a horrible heat. Dragged it
into the kitchen and put it together by himself. Alone. A very big
accomplish for a man who needs instructions for
a hammer. This was supposed to be a surprise for Marie. She had been
bitching about the old table ever since she had moved in.
She came home that night. Put her keys on the table and without even
looking at Vince who was sitting in one of
the chairs said:
"Jesus Vincent, where the hell did you dig this
nightmare up? Kmart?"
But still, to this day the
table sat there. In his old apartment. A testament to his failures.
He lit a cigarette and as he placed the match in the
tray he heard her cough into his ear..then curse and then, much to
his dismay began to speak again.
"My God. I finally got out of my dress. I don't know why the hell I
still wear this ugly old thing you got me.
I do know this though, I have to
shave my legs. They are getting mighty hairy. Hey, you still like my
legs Vince? You used to go on and on about
how much you adored my legs. Back in the early days. Before it all
went to shit. Ain’t that right Vince? So, you
still like them? Do you think about them when you try to fall asleep
on that bed of yours? Do you?"
"Yeah, I guess I do. I don't know. Sometimes I guess."
"You guess? You guess? What kind of answer is that? Jesus Vince. You
are and always will be a real twit. You
know that don’t you?"
"Yeah, a twit with a capitol T."
An hour later they hung up, or actually she hung up on him. Pissed
off about something or other. He stripped out of his
sweat soaked shirt and decided to have a beer or two. Topless at the
kitchen table Vince sat with the bottle
of Miller and stared out the window. The rain had turned to a very
light snow. The street lights were just coming
on and soon he would have to get ready for work. What the fuck
happened to me Vince thought. How the hell did
I become a third shift jackoff with a insane so to be ex wife and a
car in danger of being taken away by the bank? It was too much
for him apparently as he stood up and with the bottle in his hand
went to the bedroom where he fingered through a
stack of books on the floor. In fact, the room was surrounded by
books. Like ropes in a boxing ring. All four walls
tattooed three feet high with books of every color and size. In no
order one could see. He grabbed The Stranger and
flipped through the pages. He put it down and turned around. He put
the bottle on the nightstand and walked over to
the corner by the window. He kneeled down and searched. After a while
he picked the book he wanted. Terry Andersons
memoir Den Of Lions. He opened the book at bookmark and
read:
"Prayers in the night hurled fiercely at an absent God;
pleas, promises, bargains offered , but no answers."
He picked up a shirt laying on the bed. He put it on.
Eating a bologna sandwich alone at work Vince sat reading the
paper. More bad news. Unemployment up.
Riots in Germany. Bombs in the Mideast. The president is still a
moron and worst of all the paper yanked
Doonesbury from the funny pages after a controversial
strip. Garfield is not funny, it’s downright depressing he thought to
himself. What is this world coming to?
He gathered up his paper plate
and coffee mug. Walked over to the garbage can and threw them in.
Shit was rumbling. His stomach felt ill
so he headed off to the men’s room. On his way he ran into Marcella.
She just lifted herself up from the
water fountain and spotted him charging down the hall like a moose.
"Vince! Hey hey you Moose. How is ya?"
He slowed down. Stopped actually and greeted her in return.
"Marcella. Fine. I am fine. Did you hear about Doonesbury? The paper
axed it man."
"I know. I read about it this afternoon when I woke up. It’s an
outrage! It was always the first thing I read
when I got the dumb old paper. Hey, you in a hurry? Got time to grab
a smoke outside? I'm dying
for a cigarette."
His bowels churned. Bologna and depression do not mix. His belly was
bursting, screaming for relief.
"For you my friend, of course. I could use a dose of Turkish gold
myself. I just ate."
Marcella smiled and pulled at his arm. "Ok then, Mr. Moose, let’s go
smoke."
Outside they stood on the truck delivery station. Pallets laid
around them in the snow among the
discarded cigarette butts. Just a sliver of moon hiding behind the
clouds made it a dark evening. Or morning.
It was around 3AM and it had stopped snowing. They stood there
silently smoking. Vince looked up to the sky. He wanted to see stars
but
it was impossible. It was too cloudy.
"I wish we could see the stars but it’s too cloudy."
Marcella exhaled a puff of smoke and laughed "What is it with you and
the stars? Every time we come out here
you always talk about the stars. Just why is that Vinnie?"
Vince flicked his camel into the air. It landed with a suicide
grace. He watched it as it slowly went out in the snow.
"I don't know. I think I just like things that are far away."
"Interesting Mr. Mooseman. What about me? I’m right next to you. I bet
you don't like me eh?"
She smiled and
poked her elbow into his side. She laughed.
"Well out with the answer
Moosey!"
He stood there silent. He reached into his pocket for another
smoke. Lunch break was
almost over but there was time for at least one more. He would have
to wait two more hours before he could use
the bathroom though.
"Marcella, may I ask you a question?"
"Sure...why not! It’s Friday and I'm in a good mood! But you’re not
ducking my question are you?"
"I’m glad you're in a good mood Marcella."
He lit the cigarette and put away his lighter. His fingers were
getting cold and he wished he had brought his
gloves from the car. His head tilted up as his lips opened.
"Marcella, do you shovel your own driveway?"
She laughed.
"No no. My son does. He's good at it to. Every time it
snows he's on the job! What a silly question
Mr. Moose. Why do you ask?"
He took a drag from his smoke and flicked the half done thing onto
the ground. He turned away and began walking
back to the building.
No reason he said. Just simply curious.
He opened the door and felt the heat hit him. He had a minute left
to punch in. He walked to the clock. There really
was no time to do anything else.
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