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I knew Don would ask me again. He doesn’t have a lot of good friends. That’s because he doesn’t hang around in bars a lot, like I do. That’s where you make your really good friends, in bars. Don spends most of his time at work. He’s a counselor for deranged children.
I knew Don would ask me again. He doesn’t have a lot of good friends. That’s because he doesn’t hang around in bars a lot, like I do. That’s where you make your really good friends, in bars. Don spends most of his time at work. He’s a counselor for deranged children.
That was when I pretended something was wrong with the phone and hung up. When Don called back I used my Chinese voice and said, “He no here!”
That was when I pretended something was wrong with the phone and hung up. When Don called back I used my Chinese voice and said, “He no here!”
She opened a creaky cabinet, tearing several spiderwebs apart. I felt sorry for the spiders and all the work they had done. She took out a folder and blew the dust off. After we finished coughing, she blew some more dust, and we coughed again. Then she put the folder back and took out something else.
I kissed her on the cheek. Don claims I made out with her, but Don’s a liar.
I kissed her on the cheek. Don claims I made out with her, but Don’s a liar.
I went and got my Bible. Inside I had carved out the shape of a gun in the pages. That’s because if I ever get a gun, I’m going to hide it in there. If I’m at home when a burglar breaks in, I’ll say something like “Is it okay if I read my Bible while you’re robbing me?” Who’s going to say no? That would be crazy. And then I’ll open the Bible to the Ten Commandments and say, “Thou shalt not…” And when the burglar says, “Thou shalt not what?” I’ll pull out the gun and kill him.
I went and got my Bible. Inside I had carved out the shape of a gun in the pages. That’s because if I ever get a gun, I’m going to hide it in there. If I’m at home when a burglar breaks in, I’ll say something like “Is it okay if I read my Bible while you’re robbing me?” Who’s going to say no? That would be crazy. And then I’ll open the Bible to the Ten Commandments and say, “Thou shalt not…” And when the burglar says, “Thou shalt not what?” I’ll pull out the gun and kill him.
He pointed to a golden iguana on the mantel. “I betrayed my entire expedition to get this,” he said. He pointed to a golden mouse. “I pushed a man off a cliff to get this one.” He pointed to a little golden snail. “This one I got at a flea market.”
I told Uncle Lou only that we were going after something goldish and monkey-ish. He got a faraway look in his eyes, I think from all the pills he was taking.
I got worried Uncle Lou might want to come with us, along with his little dog Screwball. But fortunately he was too ill.
The next day it felt like I had been run over by a bicycle, which I had, as I staggered home from Uncle Lou’s.
The trouble with going to Uncle Lou’s was he was always drugging you. I guess he thought it was funny. Yes, the food was good, but half the time you didn’t even remember it. One day I would get my revenge. My plan was to get a metal container and fill it with sizzling acid and go to his house. If everything worked correctly, the acid would eat through the container after I had already left, and spill out onto the table, and ruin it, and Uncle Lou would have to buy a new one.
The great thing about sitting next to a stranger on an airplane is you can ask him all sorts of questions. “What’s a good nickname for me?” I asked, explaining I had narrowed it down to “Biff,” “Wrong Way,” and “Studs.” He didn’t seem to have a preference. As I sat there slurping on my straw, trying to decide, I said, “Wait a minute! What about ‘Slurps’?” He looked like he was in pain. I don’t blame him—it was a tough one. I went over it in my mind, out loud. I decided I liked “Slurps” better than “Biff” or “Studs,” but not better than “Wrong Way.” Then it hit me: how about “Wrong Way Slurps”!
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When we got off the plane the smell hit us full in the face. A scary-looking transvestite put flower necklaces around our necks and said, “Aloha.” Someone told me later that aloha is a curse word.
We found him in the hotel courtyard, shooting a crossbow at a big target. The target was the outline of a man running away, looking back over his shoulder in panic.
He jerked open a drawer full of clutter, fished around, and pulled out two old whiskey corks. “Those won’t fit,” I explained. “Maybe I make them fit,” he said with a weird smile.
As we climbed the stairs, Don gave me a Don look. And it wasn’t because part of the bannister broke off in my hand.
BY THE next day, things had improved. My fingers were still swollen from the window slamming down on them, but getting better.
That was when I saw he had taped my wrist to my chair.
I made my way through the foul, steaming backstreets of Honolulu, dodging fistfights and buckets of slop thrown from windows.
