Strange Tales From South Philly: An Anthology by Pete Bertino - HTML preview

It was all I could think to say, she walked into the bedroom and packed her bag to stay with a sister in University City and gave me a few weeks to get my self situated. I could understand her point of view some. In the writing biz you need an agent to get a story, either a short one or a novel, published, however an agent won’t take you unless you’ve been published. It’s a catch 22

thing that can make any writer just give up.

When we broke up I wasn’t so much sad as I was relieved, I loved her but it didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would, but I didn’t want someone who wouldn’t let me be me. Though I had apprehensions, wondering if giving her up for writing wasn’t selfish, or at the very least foolish.

I had some money saved and found an apartment closer to where I grew up in South Philly, I had been living on 4th street with Heather for the last few years and it felt good to be living closer to 16th street where I grew up.

My parents who had retired to Florida as soon as they could weren’t too thrilled with my break up, I came late in their lives and they expected me to make up for the lost time. My mom was always prodding me about finding a real job so I could give her grandchildren, they saw my disinterest in Journalism classes and in my opinion were probably grateful for getting out of town before I could ask them for money or to move back in.

My parents made it clear early on that college I would have to pay for it myself, and that was like that for a lot of guys in the neighborhood so I didn’t mind, there’s scholarships and CC is pretty cheap compared to Temple which was a few blocks away from CC. There was always some kind job in the city and plenty of temp agencies as well. I knew that this path of the starving artist was a lonely one but I marched forward, besides I wouldn’t be without friends.

I have plenty of friends, though my best friend since 6th grade is Jason Belperrio. We’d known each other since at least second or third grade, but we didn’t become best buds until the summer of 92. I was big fan of the movie Jaws, but who isn’t right? But Jason is super into Jaws, he considers Jaws a metaphor for capitalism, the shark is capitalism and America is Quint’s boat and if you’ve seen the movie you understand what he meant, anyway I had always wanted to read the novel it was based on, and like any future writer I loved to read.

So one morning I went to the Passyunk branch library at 20th and Shunk street. I still can recall the brightness of the earthy brown colored wood and the lovely scent of old paperback in the air that hit my face when ever I opened the door. It was small, minuscule compared to the fort like Central library on Vine downtown, but as a child I would get a little chill thinking of all the stories this place held behind its brick walls and windows that would glow bright with amber light during the winter months when the sun was down early and the Flyers were all anybody in the neighborhood cared about, once football was over of course.

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I went to the adult section with my library card firmly in hand, my heart beating excitedly, my blinders were on as I methodically went to the adult section navigating through clusters of much younger children taking a leap over a big pile of saw dust and puke left by some wayward stomach. I felt like Indiana Jones as I skirted a long rectangular table surrounded by empty chairs placed at all kinds of crazy angles obstructing my path.

I was at the end of a table when a chair seemingly moved itself blocking my path, I could feel my jaw ready to hit the floor until I saw a kid’s head pop out from under the other side of the table holding a pencil aloft like the sword Excalibur.

“Gym-kata!”

The boy yelled for some reason, which was followed by some scattered shushes, I twisted around the chair, adjusted my imaginary fedora like Indy would have after such a close call and made

my way to the shelves where I’d seen it last,finding it immediately in the same spot one shelf over from where I was scanning and as I reached for it, a slightly pudgy hand yanked it from the shelf. Jason was husky but was not slovenly and held himself tall, as a man he would grow to six feet tall and brawny like a viking, at twelve he was already taller than most in our class and heavier but he wasn’t a bully or tried to act like some tough douche bag. He wore a Ramones t shirt and held the novel close to him and wearing a smirk like Joey Ramone on his shirt, Jason wasn’t an asshole but he wasn’t a push over either.

“Sorry, Seth I saw it first.”

“No way, man. I walked here and your mom dropped you off.”

“So? Besides I’m a fast reader. I’ll have it done and back in a week.” he said sounding sympathetic.

“Haha,” I laughed in my most sarcastic sounding voice a twelve year old boy going through puberty can make.

“What’s so funny? A week is fast.” he said sounding a little unsure.

“I’ll have that done by tomorrow night.” I said knowing full well I could as I was already reading thick three and four hundred page novels in just a couple of days by that point and could retain what I had read.

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“Yeah right.” Jason said with a head nod.

“Betcha all my pogs that I’ll have it done by Wednesday.” I said holding out my hand for him to shake on it.

“Slammers, too?” he asked watching me closely.

Now, a handshake wasn’t a written contract. When you made a deal with another kid in the neighborhood it was a serious thing, and if you went back on the deal at the very least you would have other kids talk shit about you, saying you’re an Indian giver or a fagot or whatever. At the very worst you would get your ass kicked and you might still have kids talk shit on you if they didn’t like you to begin with, not that I would renege of course, either way I was willing to put my pogs on the line as I was sure of my ability.

“You know it.”

We shook and parted ways and I read it, and it was when I was about halfway through it that night that I realized not all books are better than their movie counter parts, and most of the time they are. I felt disappointed when I got to the end and had it back two days later. I returned it the minute they opened for the day, and sat outside on the library's wide odd numbered steps that face the houses across the street feeling a little glum about this unpleasant surprise.

It was a few minutes later Jason was walking down the street and saw me sitting on the steps leading up. He had a smile on his face but it turned to a confused look as he got closer.

“Dude. You OK?”

“Huh, oh yeah I’m fine.” I said.

“Did you finish it, the book I mean?”

“Yeah, it’s probably not back on the shelf yet but it’s there.” I said, waving my hand at the building behind me.

Jason looked up at the doors and then back down at me. He did it again before finally speaking.

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“Well, how was it?” he asked excitedly.

I was quiet for a few seconds before I shrugged weakly and said: ‘It kinda sucked.”

Jason’s face dropped a little as he registered what I said. Seeing his face made me feel a little bad, I could see he didn’t want to believe it but he did. Still he nodded his head a little before speaking again.

“Sucked, like how? Like Jaws The Revenge sucked?” he asked.

“Nah, more like Jaws 3D sucked.”

“Well that’s not so bad I guess,” he said sitting down next to me. “maybe you missed some pages. Did you maybe skip around some parts that were boring?”

“Of course not.” I said feeling a little horrified by the thought.

“Alright, alright settle down, Beavis.” Jason said with a laugh.

“I mean there were some scenes from the movie and some of it was scary with the shark and there was this whole thing with Mayor and the mob that was pretty cool too, but the characters were all different, even the main characters.”

“Even Quint?”

“Especially Quint, he doesn’t talk about the Indianapolis or nothing. And Hooper gets eaten by the shark.”

“That sucks.” he was quiet again before he said excitedly. “Hey, man your name is Hooper, I just realized.”

I looked at him for a minute confused.

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“Like in Jaws, Hooper, the Close Encounters guy!”

“Yeah,” I said never realizing that we had the same last name. “you could be Brody, your last name starts with a B.”

“Forget that shit, I’m Quint. I wanna marry a bunch of women and get eaten by a shark so I don’t have to pay alimony like my dad.”

I laughed my ass off when he said that, as most people in the neighborhood knew his dad was a divorced man and was a known womanizer. Jason came from money, his dad was and still is a dentist and has had an office on Packer avenue for over twenty years.

“So you gonna get the book?” I asked once I was over my laughing fit.

“Nah. I’d just skip over most of it anyway. Hey you wanna watch Jaws on Laser Disc?”

“What’s Laser Disc?”

“Aw, dude, it’s the wave of the future.” he said assuredly putting a hand on my shoulder.

Poor judgment of physical home media aside we’ve been friends ever since, and he still has the Laser Disc of Jaws. He like his father is quite a ladies man, though he not married he played the field like a gentleman with a class you rarely see, and he was always a good judge in my view of the female character and of people in general. Not long after my break up and I was half unpacked, we were drinking beer amongst a cluster of boxes in a loft apartment looking down on Ritner street with Potito’s bakery on one corner and Dad’s deli at the opposite corner, I got to wake up in the mornings either to the smell of sweet pastries or spicy meats depending on the wind.

“So you had to choose between her and writing?” Jason asked sitting on a big brown box marked glass.

“I guess, I mean she said I freaked her out when I was thinking or daydreaming. She said I make weird faces or I look weird. So I told her that she made a weird face while she peed like she was having a stroke.”

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“Does she?” Jason asked.

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.” Jason said stroking his chin.

“What was that a messed up thing to say?”

“Nah.”

“Am I weird, man?”

“Of course, Hooper. But everybody’s weird. I was dating a woman once, she was beautiful and smart she went to Juilliard, unbelievable with a horn in her mouth...”

“I like when your stories have a euphemism.”

“...just give me a writing credit if you use it in a story, anyway she looked like she was having a seizure when ever she sneezed. She would just go and sorta flinch her whole body back like snake or something was making a grab at her face, ya know, and she’d take a short quick breath and then her top lip would curl making her look like she had a cleft lip.”

Jason held a leg out and began shaking a leg while he curled his lip.

“Wow.”

“She made the same face while climaxing too.”

I looked at Jason quickly to see if he was serious, he just gave me a nod.

“Everybody is weird, Hooper. ”

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“Yeah, well seizure looking orgasm faces aside I’m too weird for her and maybe she’s right, about writing being a waste of time and no one wants to read it.”

“I like reading your stuff.”

“Thanks man. But if it don’t pay the bills, I can’t fight about that with her.”

“Hooper, ya idiot! You did fight.” Jason said trying sound like Quint, with great relish causing the box under him to shake.

“And lost...”

“No, you won.” Jason said easily as he took a sip from a can of PBR.

“Oh, yeah right. I won what? Getting ragged on by my mom about marriage now instead of just a career bitching about how she dreamed I’d have a house with a fence made of wood that I can paint white every spring and fall.”

“You paint a fence that often?” Jason asked.

“I just assumed.”

Jason looked confused for a moment but shook his head before speaking again.

“Look, writing makes you happy, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So you got rid of someone who was opposed to you being happy, how is that a bad thing?”

“It’s a relationship, you’re supposed to make sacrifices for...”

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“Aw,” Jason said with and exaggerated lip smack as the box under him shook again. “Hooper, could you do something like that to her, I mean tell her she can’t do something that makes her happy?”

“No,” I said with only a slight hesitation.

“Then why put up with it yourself, look you want to write, right?”

“Yes,” I said with no hesitation.

Writing did and still does make me feel whole, I don’t think I can explain it better than that. Just the suggestion by Heather of stopping unnerved me to the point my stomach shook like it did the first time I rode the log flume at Clementon Park when I was 9.

“Then you gotta do what makes you happy.” he said raising his beer to me.

“Yeah, I’ll just have be a lonely starving artist.” I said.

“I hope you’re not gonna start feeling sorry for yourself.”

“No,” I said sincerely. “I just wish the world could be fair, ya know. I know that's a childish thing to say I just wish...” I said trying to use the right words.

“You could be a successful writer?” Jason asked

“No, I’d write even if I knew I’d never see fame or fortune in my life, I just wish some one could accept that fact too. When I say I’m also writer to someone they usually say right after that,

‘what are you doing working there’ if I know them they usually say ‘why aren’t you published yet?' I don’t know what if I’m wrong, what if it is all a waste and I’m supposed to be normal have an ordinary job and all that stuff?”

“Hooper, you still got a lot of years, man. Just worry about doin what makes you happy, and don’t let anybody give you shit for it.”

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Jason raised his beer again as he was suddenly dropped through the box as it partially collapsed under him followed by the sound of glass breaking as his large frame flattened the box further.

“Shit, man did you have glass in here?”

It may seem like simple advice for a very complicated situation but it was what I needed at the time, which was 2004 or there about, and I was happy, usually. Two years had passed since then and in the mean time I had gotten a new job telemarketing, a soul crushing job at times and some day’s after just a half an hour on the phone my ears would be ringing, but it paid much better than cashiering or hitting the subway to go downtown to the temp office to save on gas. At the time minimum wage was five and a quarter, which was usually what you’d start at jockeying a register, the temp jobs varied but they hovered around six or six fifty an hour for the kind of work I did.

The telemarketing place was located on Passyunk avenue, a street which cut across South Philly’s evenly lined streets diagonally much like Moyamensing ave a few blocks south. The office was next to where King Of Jeans was still in business, most of the buildings were shops with a random bar or cafe for a shopper to take a break from all the walking. If you walked east far enough on Passyunk you could get to South street in just a half an hour.

The man in charge was Thomas White, if the name sounds familiar it should. A few years back the FBI and State Police raided a cafe on Broad street frequented by Thomas and by a few capo’s for the Letuzzi crime family. A lot of people were arrested for racketeering, running numbers and got put away for like a decade.

Thomas White was arrested for lesser charges but they were eventually dropped because of insufficient evidence, in the Daily News, his bulldog of a lawyer barked to anybody that would listen, saying Thomas was arrested merely because he was a childhood friend of Letuzzi’s kids, and was guilty by association. He had even been interviewed on Good Day Philadelphia just after Thomas was arrested.

Thomas had been in the telemarketing business both before and after his arrest and starting pay was seven fifty an hour plus commission. When he was being investigated he had to shutter the operation because everybody was sure it was just a front but the state and feds didn’t find anything and he was

aloud to reopen for business. By the time I had come along that was the distant past, and I was just grateful for a half decent wage. I knew this job would not be pleasant way in advance but I was willing to deal with it for the pleasure to write.

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There were open interviews every Tuesday afternoon so I wore a button down shirt and tie and took a few breath mints with me for good measure. I didn’t think I’d make a great salesman but minimum wage was not cutting it. I felt OK about my chances getting a job since they had open interviews every week, this place had been known by many in the neighborhood for its high turnover rate of employees.

I was still a little nervous for it until I walked through the glass double doors and I saw her sitting at a desk writing something in an open file folder. Her hair was a curly red orange and her cheeks were covered with freckles. She looked up at me and the immediate recognition made me laugh out loud as she smiled at me.

“Natalie.”

“Seth, oh my god.” she said getting up to give me a hug.

I got to admit when she got from behind the desk I felt my heart do a funny little jump as I gazed upon her. She wore a deep purple colored knitted blouse and a skirt that was short but tastefully short. I saw her legs and my heart raced a little, I knew she was lovely but seeing her that day reminded me she was a woman. She was born in Cherry Hill, New Jersey but moved to Philly around the same time we’d first met when we were kids. The last I had heard she had married and moved back to Jersey, when I asked she just shrugged and said it didn’t work out.

“Oh, shit, Nat, I’m sorry.”

“It’s OK, living here is still cheaper than New Jersey. I’m happier now, that’s for sure. Ya know?”

“Yes, I do.”

I still laugh when I think about how I first met Natalie. I was at a school dance, me, Jason and a few other guys had gone feeling nervous and excited about dancing with a girl. I had been by myself standing in a gymnasium that was mainly used for the schools basketball team.

Light machines had been set up around the gym shooting a rainbow of colors that bounced off the gleaming ocher floor boards which dulled the colors some. Numerous groups of kids separated by gender stood here and there surrounding the near empty dance floor watching the few couples dancing

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out there, some of them with envy. I was heading to a heavily populated snack table when Natalie appeared.

“You’re Seth, right?” she asked.

I remember being a little freaked, she was wearing a dark blue dress and her hair was pinned back with a shiny gemstone set in a the center of a cobalt glass daisy. I remember thinking how pretty her hair was. She sat across from me in English class that year and she usually put her hair in a pony tail with a velvet black scrunchy.

“Yeah,” I said nervously.

“Will you please dance with me?” she said sounding similar to a person running from a zombie in a Romero flick.

Her desperation threw me off as I stuttered at her.

“Please, Louie Raggitelli has been eying me all night and I think he wants to ask me to dance.”

I shook my head as she took my hand and we went out on the floor. We didn’t kiss or anything like that, we just talked.

“Thank you, so much. Louis is sort a OK, it’s just...”

“Yeah, I know.” I said.

Louie was kinda of a douche bag when we where kids and was sort of overbearing to be around.

After that night we’d talk in school,or at 19th and Porter where she’d hang out sometimes with Danielle Debiasi, and a few others in the neighborhood. We had some classes together in high school and were always friendly and said more than hello on occasions. Not long after I started working there she’d hung out one Friday night when Jason had a party at his place.

She knew about my attempt at being a professional author and seemed happy I hadn’t given up on the dream. It was great that she worked there, it made getting settled in a little less awkward.

The job would already be a lot of pressure.

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“Any good salesman should be able to pull in two hundred every four hours.” Thomas said to all new hires with his deep voice holding up a hand showing four fingers wiggling.

I was barely breaking that a week, I felt the pressure build on me with each hang up which was something like eight out of every ten calls. However Natalie assured me that as long as I stuck to whatever pitch I was given and was polite I wouldn’t be let go. The place employed thirty to forty people for every four hour shift, and every shift there would be at the very least a half dozen new faces.

As I said my sales were pitiful and one afternoon about two months after my first day I thought I was about to get my walking papers when Thomas called me into his office down in the basement. It was cooler down there than in the bunched up office of thirty some odd guys sitting shoulder to shoulder selling stickers for PAL or concert tickets to raise money for Fire Fighter widows .

I sat in a plastic law chair the color of urine as he sat on a stuffed teal colored office chair behind a large wooden desk. He was tall and looked only slightly out of shape with a protruding belly.

His hair was black but with silver wingtips and a black beard that was stained gray through out.

He wore a green polo shirt and put his big hairy knuckled hands on his blotter as he looked at me.

He wasn’t a mean guy, brazen and a little foul mouthed, stern but fair, as long as you knew your place and followed his instructions to a T, you were golden was exactly how Nat put it. I still wondered if he brought me down here just to fire me, I’d seen him fire people plenty of times upstairs with others watching. He’d just tell them to get out and they usually did.

“Your sales suck, Seth.” he said and I felt my stomach drop.

“Yes, Thomas, I know. Please I just...”

He waved his hand and nodded at me in the negative.

“Nah, no I’m not firing you. Out of all the people I hire hardly any of those assholes do what I say and you wear a shirt with a tie. Christ, if I don’t have some hard headed nigger dressed like a wanna be gangster or one of those crazy grease balls threatening someone on the phone, I have to worry about the fuckin beaners I hire stealing office supplies or toilet paper.”

Thomas was an equal opportunity racist.

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“Seth, you follow instructions, you don’t question everything I fuckin say and you don’t have a record. Plus Natalie told me you’re trust worthy.”

Many of his employees were sometimes former convicts or guys sometimes still on parole, this was probably the only place besides a fast food establishment that would hire them. So I wasn’t getting fired, I was getting a promotion taking in bound calls of sales already made and helping Natalie with data entry and whatever other paperwork she might be backed up with, and I would be getting an extra two dollars an hour for it.

It was steady employment and I got a raise every six months, and handling in bound calls is a million times better than having to sell. So it was a fairly easy though thankless job that paid well, but no big deal. I was writing and trying to get an agent and or a short story published, I

had written two dozen or so of them and a half dozen novels but nothing ever got published but I was content, for the most part.

It was the first week of August 2006 when it started, the last few months were nerve wracking with my parents but I wasn’t in dire financial straits nor was I swimming in debt. I kept getting this weird feeling in my body, like right around my stomach. It wasn’t a pain, just like this feeling of being empty, on occasion and I’d have weird dreams where I’m at the hospital getting x-rays and the doctor is Hugh Laurie, from the show House and I’d ask him:

“Why am I empty, Dr House.”

“Because you’re a moron.” he’d say to me just like I was a patient on his show.

I’d wake up right after, feeling empty. I’d still have the follow up question on my lips: ‘why am I a moron?’ Was it because I gave up with Heather and pursued writing, was it avoiding my parents that made me a moron. The voluntary celibacy, was that the moronic thing he was trying to tell me about?

I’d sit in bed while the sun was still yet to rise, wondering what the dream meant, but I’d would most times lay back down and fall fast asleep. I didn’t think about the dream ever during the day, until that week we were selling tickets to a magic show. Everybody was doing above average that week and the room was packed with more callers than usual, it was hot in the call center which was a long narrow room with white walls and many rows of tables and an endless supply of metal folding chairs. Each long table had four phones being handled by men between the ages of nineteen and sixty something reciting a sales pitch.

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They were a mix of African, Irish, Italian, and Vietnamese and few other ethnicities but everyone got along well that day despite the heat and the occasional farts wafting around from the fan sitting on a slightly bent pole spinning its dust caked blades blowing hot air around with a pathetic whine, the voices of all the sales pitches being read was a din of noise in my ears.

I had been sitting at a desk across from Natalie as she sat looking down at a large calculator tapping on it with a quick yet graceful hand. We were at the front of the room working when the door from behind myself and Nat out front opened. As we looked up a pasty faced man that had been fired last week came in with wide eyes and a bloody nose.

In his dirt crusted hand he held a switchblade, I heard Nat gasp as the man whose name I couldn’t recall glared at me with reddened eyes.

“Where is he, Seth?” he asked with a crude breath whose stench wafted at me like a force.

Before I answered or could gag, a tall muscular black man wearing a white shirt and Taqiyah named Francis stood holding his hands up. He had worked there since before I did, he was one of the few employees that followed Thomas’ instructions exactly as told and made a lot of money on the phone on top of that for Thomas.

“Don’t Greg.” Francis said.

The room had gone quiet, a phone was ringing somewhere another was faintly buzzing a busy signal closer by. Greg’s wide eyes that were blood shot narrowed down on Francis.

“This don’t concern youse, Francis. I’ll stab every nigger in this place.

“Oh!” said a collection of the black men who worked there as well, a few had stood up and looked ready to pounce him, knife be damned.

Greg realized his mistake as he walked passed Natalie and I further inside.

“Now I didn’t mean nothing by that. I just want my money,” he said shakily while he held the knife a little lower. “I got a weeks pay comin to me.”

“What the fuck is going on? Why don’t I hear any...”

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Thomas had come charging up the steps and was silenced by the sight of Greg but only for a moment.

“What the fuck do you want? I thought I fired your ass.”

Greg kind of coughed at him as the hand holding the knife gripped tightly, I could heard the tendons in his neck stretch and the skin of his hands creaked like cheap leather. He stood maybe a foot ahead of me at this point when I heard the voice from the crazy guy in The Karate Kid in my head say, ‘Sweep the leg!”

So with a quick swipe from my left leg, I took Greg’s feet out from under him. The knife flew harmlessly to the ground as Francis grabbed him and held him down while Natalie called the police. A

few hours later a police officer with an emotionless face and monotone voice asked us questions and took a statement from nearly everybody, long enough to end the work day early which pissed off Thomas, though he did calm down enough to thank me and tell me I was getting a raise for my heroic deed.

“Thank fuckin Christ for you Seth, I didn’t have to shoot the prick. Too many witnesses.”

He had a smile on his face that tried to convey he may or may not be serious. I just smiled numbly, still tasting the electric discharge in my mouth from the surge of adrenaline I got when doing my little Cobra Kai move on Greg. My stomach felt loopy even a half hour after almost everyone left for the day and I stood just out front on the side walk as that strange empty feeling came over me again like a bad cramp but it didn’t hurt, I just kind of felt hollow.

I recalled the House dream and him calling me a moron, I remember thinking I would never feel the same watching that show again. I stood there looking down Passyunk avenue feeling weird, a deep empty feeling I still can’t describe to this day and I am supposed to be a writer. I’ll explain it the way I did a black hole in the novel Star Breaker.

‘Before Captain Delannoy activated the warp drive, he took one last look at the void that had almost taken his ship. It was an unsympathetic, unfeeling dark abyss that sucked in everything with insatiable hunger. It was a black empty monster that devoured mindlessly both man and matter in an infinite swallow, even light couldn’t escape its...emptiness.’

My face felt numb, was my leg sweep moronic? Was the dream a premonition, was I not supposed to be here? Is that why I am a moron? I felt these questions come flying at me like 228

slaps in the face, I could feel my heart hammering with growing rapidity until it slowed down at the sound of a voice.

“Hey,” she said softly yet clearly.

I was looking down Passyunk still and turned towards the front door to work and saw Natalie standing there looking at me with concern. In one hand she held the strap of her purse to her shoulder, in her other hand was a paper back, she wore a mossy green blouse and skirt that was long and ruffled in the slight breeze. I remember guessing the book would either be a Stephen King or a Dan Brown.

I felt my self settle down and my heart slow as she approached me. Her eyes were directly on mine and I remember feeling grateful for that at the time. Her perfume hit my nose and the feeling inside was gone.

“Are you OK, Seth?” she asked as she approached me.

When she was just a few feet from me I saw her paper back was neither King nor Brown but

‘The Hitchhikers’ Guide’ I laughed and felt a real smile stretch across my face.

“What’s so funny?” she asked with a slight smile as she pushed a wayward red lock of hair behind her ear.

“I love Douglas Adams.”

“Oh,” she said smiling as she held up her book. “yeah. I loved the Dirk Gently stories I never laughed so hard. It’s a shame he died so young.”

“Yeah, and Pat Robertson will probably live for another six decades asking people for money like an asshole on the corner.”

“Yeah I know, right.” she said looking at me again. “So how’s your writing going?”

“Eh,” I said with a hand wave. “well not too bad. I reviewed some GIF creation software and got a rebate for a new cell.”

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I dug out of my pocket what was then all the rage before smart phones. It was an off gray bodied Motorola RAZR flip phone, these things were a few hundred bucks in the mid and early aughts.

Now they’re ten bucks at any Kmart or Dollar General.

“It has a camera and a web browser and a micro phone to take notes,” I said holding it open in one hand while the other swirled back and forth under it like a magician doing a trick, making her laugh.

“Now you can take Big Brother with you where ever you go.” I said pointing a finger at her in my best Billy Mays voice which was so so.

“That’s plus good, you sound like Schwarzenegger without the Austrian accent.” she said with a cheerful smile.

“You really did read 1984, that’s double plus good.” I said laughing, feeling happy for the first time that day

“What can I say, thought crimes do it for me,” she said with a shine in her eyes that I associated with the sunshine that afternoon. “you look better, you were so pale when I first walked out.”

“Oh,” I said with a slight nod. “I was just thinking I was a moron for doing what I did today.”

“I think it was brave.” she said.

“I dunno,” I said oblivious to her praise. “his back was turned and I don’t feel brave. My dad would’ve said I was a moron for sure.”

“Well I think you did great. Do you need a ride?” she asked.

“No, I got my car, I just wanna take a ride and think. My stomach was a little jumpy but I’m OK, now.”

Though I was feeling better physically, I still needed to think and stretch my mental legs. I said goodbye to Nat, and went for a drive. I thought about a place to go but kept drawing a blank as I headed south on Broad street simply out of habit of going this direction whenever I left work.

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I only drove about four or five blocks until I saw Marconi park and felt a surge of memories come flooding back. A far as my childhood memories go many are associated with this gigantic stamp of green on this otherwise concrete jungle. Some guys hung out on corners like a gang, trying to be criminal or doing crazy shit like take a knife and carve 1S6 meaning 16th and Shunk on their body and cover it with pen ink like a jail house tattoo. I was not one of these guys, I didn’t usually hang out on corners if I could help it.

Most of the time I spent out doors was at Marconi park making the occasional side trip to the Time Kill gas station nearby for a pretzel and a slurpee. At night the park was where some kids went to go smoking and drinking since being out on the corner was too risky for some. You could sometimes find a bud for sale there from Billy Sorrel, he was a weird guy I’d met a few times, he had long curly black hair and wore a striped hoody made of hemp that smelled like patchouli oil.

I remember he said he grew up in an orphanage and didn’t know his own birth day because he had literally been found on a doorstep in a basket when still a baby, once he talked about how some might call him a wizard. I remember Jason said some people in the neighborhood called him Billy The Wise.

But during the day Marconi park was a place you could go and usually avoid trouble, stuff would go down there from time to time but it was usually late at night and it was the one place a cop or a neighbor was least likely to tell you to keep it down or go somewhere else. I wasn’t a big jock in school, but I loved playing sports, and this park was where I played most of the time.

Rarely did a summer day in my youth go by without me trying to find someone to play baseball with, most of my friends though were partial to tackle football during the winter months instead.

I drove around the block and found an open spot on 15th street next to the park just across the street from a

Rite Aid at the corner. Despite the lovely summer day with perfect clear blue sky the park was nearly empty. At the middle of 15th was a path into the park that was surrounded by a cluster of boys in the ten to thirteen year old range.

I was half a block away and I could hear them laughing and screaming and cursing, acting like roughnecks. I just took the path closest to me and walked out in the open towards the other side of the park facing Broad street where I could just enjoy the shade of the huge Oaks that stood there. It was quiet other than the group of kids carrying on at the edge of the park. I climbed the stone steps and walked inwards with benches on my right and Broad street on my left, I found a bench and sat.

As I was enjoying the peace and sunshine my cell began to play ‘When The Saints Go Marching In’ meaning one of my parents is calling. With this cell I can give every contact their own special 231

ring tone, I’d given all my friends and family their favorite song as a ring tone. My parents however did not listen to music, they had no stereo and own only three albums, all vinyl. ‘Barry Manilow One Voice’ ‘Sade Promise’ and forgive the irony but I swear to god this is for real ‘Bill Cosby Talks to Kids About Drugs’ and despite the fact they still have no stereo to speak of, I found these three albums in a closet during my last visit to their condo in Florida.

I want to ask them how two Baby Boomer’s that don’t listen to music wind up with such a collection but the answer would probably annoy the hell out of me. I said hello, knowing it would be mom and just hoping it would be a good call, which was becoming more rare since I turned twenty six. I could usually figure that out by the first thing she said to me after I answered.

“Hi, honey, it’s Mom. You’re not driving, are you? I’ll call back later if you are.”

That was a good sign, it’s when she starts off with work that I know we’re gonna argue about the usual. Every time they call they have it set to speaker though I don’t think they’ve figured that out yet.

“No, mom. I’m at Marconi park.”

“Oh,” she said sounding worried. “are you playing football? Goodness this thing is so loud.”

“No, mom.” I said with an eye roll.

“Well don’t shout,” she said almost like she heard my eyes rolling in my head.

“I’m not shouting you have the cell phone set to speaker.”

“I didn’t know if you were trying to be a famous Eagles quarterback again.” she said not listening as usual.

“Really, mom I was eleven when I said that. And is that what you think, that I wanna be, famous? As if that was what I was worried about? I wanna be me.” I said trying not to sound too annoyed.

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“Honey, no I know that. I just worry about you wasting your potential. I mean telemarketing isn’t really gonna be your career now is it? Is there a concert going on it’s so loud there?”

“Yeah John Lennon came back from the dead but he’s playing with Yoko Ono so everybody’s pissed, and I have a career, a writer. Remember I went to college majoring in journalism. I know it might have been easy to forget since you didn’t help pay.”

“Of course, we remember...” my mom said.

“....jackass....not living here...” said my dad in the background.

“Love you too, dad.” I said thinking I’d rather live at Marconi park than with those two again.

“He doesn’t mean that, Seth.”

“No of course not” I said trying not to fight and holding the phone a little farther away. “how’s the weather been?”

“Have you been going out?”

“Yes mom, I can’t afford that teleporter. Not on my salary.”

“Do you need money?” asked my mother who was not overly familiar with sarcasm or the limits of early 21st century technology.

I bit my hand trying not to get angry with her strange question.

“Mom, what are you trying to ask me?”

“Don’t you go out on dates anymore? Honey I know this might be a silly question...”

“Only for normal people, mom.”

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“...you’re not gay are you, because if you...”

“Oh my god, mom...”

“He’s not gay, he’s afraid of being a man...” said my dad.

“Jesus Christ! Do either off you realize that your cell is on speaker phone!?”

I could hear my father’s tone, he’d talk that way to me ever since I was a kid, especially if I had gotten in trouble in the neighborhood or had bad grades. It irritated me to still be hearing him talk like that about me.

“Yeah, well youse guys are both wrong,” I said defiantly “Heather didn’t accept me for who I am...”

“...who he is? Damn lonely and broke is who he’ll be...” said my dad who was being hushed by my mom.

“No, no I understand,” I said resisting the urge to just throw the phone. “it was such a headache from me never once bothering him or you for help financial or otherwise, I mean how could I continue to be such a selfish asshole when I’ve been paying my own way since the day I graduated from high school.”

“Honey...”

I didn’t shout, I just I snapped the phone closed, it rang once more but I just ignored it and tried not to feel guilty which was easy. I had to make my own way, they were proud of my self reliance since it benefited them financially, and that’s fine I didn’t care. But as soon as they saw I was still doing my own thing it started to irk them that it didn’t involve marriage and kids and the house with the fence you paint white however many Christing times you’re supposed to friggin paint them.

“It’s my life.”

I said it feeling a little better but then I remembered the dream and that empty feeling showed up again. I sat on the bench in the near empty park, the cluster of boys hadn’t grown in size but it 234

had in noise level. One or two of them was hollering joyously, a sound that was borderline amazement, I didn’t pay attention at first. I could hear them, it appeared they were on the move sounding like lunatics just let out of the asylum, not much different when I was a kid running around the neighborhood.

The path they ran down was lined with oaks heading in my direction, they were looking down at their feet when they stopped on the steps. Between where I sat and the steps leading up to the benches my view was obscured by a white granite pillar that was taller than the group of boys and of such girth I could see nothing.

I leaned over trying to hear exactly what they were screaming about, one of them appeared in my view on the top step holding a large rock over his head. I stood up not planning on getting involved just an over curious observer, all writers are guilty of it I am sure.

“Dude, just fuckin smash it!” said a boyish squeaky voice.

“Yeah, smash’em. Smash’em.” said another boy that sounded sarcastically hyperactive The boy holding the rock stepped back, I was a few feet away and walked towards the boy holding the rock which was just a hunk of cinder block.

“What are you guys doin?” I said not trying to come off like an asshole grown up, they might have just been rough housing.

The kid holding the block had his back towards me, he turned and lowered the block with wide eyes. Another kid gasped while the others just started walking away. Between them and myself on the ground was a squirrel, it looked big and its tail was twitching back and forth. It began to scurry away when the kid with the squeaky voice yelled.

“It’s running, man, kill it!”

The boy lifted the cinder block sucking a breath in, and with the same speed I used to sweep the leg I snatched that hunk of cinder from the boy. The squirrel froze, even its tail was immobile.

The boys walking away had stopped and watched me with predatory eyes.

“What’s the matter with youse guys?” I said feeling a little sick at their actions.

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The squeaky voiced kid was the smallest but he was the only one who spoke. He wore a red Seventy Sixers ball cap backwards and spat on the ground between us.

“What the fuck is it to you?” he said starting with a deep voice then sounding almost like a girl on the word you.

“Kid what kind of psycho tries to smash a squirrel with a rock.”

“So fuckin what? It’s not a fuckin dog or some shit. Who gives a fuck?” the boy said in a near shriek with a face as red as his Sixers hat.

I never heard one kid say the F word that much since I was a kid. I ignored that and instead tried to reason.

“What if your mom saw you doin that?”

“Yo, fuck you homes!” he shrieked. “you don’t know my fuckin mom!”

He slapped his chest either imitating a gorilla or character in a movie that I haven’t seen but this kid probably loves, his outburst of anger really surprised me he only seemed annoyed at most.

The squirrel was still standing frozen, the squeaky voiced kid held his arms up and screamed as he charged at the large animal which scurried away behind me where the trees ended towards a tall marble statue of Christopher Columbus a dozen yards away that was surrounded by a black iron gate. The kid just glared at me again with teary eyes and spat towards me again before walking away with his friends, back in the direction they came.

I turned back and headed to the bench I had been sitting on, as I sat I saw the squirrel again. It came out from behind the statute somewhere, foraging on the ground. As it got closer I couldn’t help but notice it was different than most of the grimy and tore up ones skittering around the neighborhood, its fur looked clean and thick and healthy with a tail that looked fluffy, its body was the size of a small cat.

I thought it could have been someones pet, as it drew closer looking for food or whatever, I could see it had a red collar or band of some sort around its neck. A pet squirrel didn’t seem outlandish to me, if any animal is well fed it’d probably get huge. I had gone to Wildwood with Heather the last summer we were together and we’d gotten gas in a little town on the way at this old mom and pop shop where they had a raccoon as a pet that was at least forty five pounds and was two feet tall when it stood on its back legs.

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The raccoon was so heavy it’s stomach actually waddled as it walked, and though they are a wild animal, this thing was tame. The old lady who rung us up let Heather pet it as it sat on the counter, she even fed it a treat. This squirrel was big but it didn’t waddle when walking, its weight appeared to be proportioned evenly.

It scurried here and there near me going about its own business as I thought again about that void in my gut and sighed when I heard my parents ring tone play again. I noticed the squirrel was standing on its back paws almost facing me. I saw its sleek gray brown fur and the fact it wouldn’t have to worry about disappointing its parents or having a good career.

“You’re lucky ya know that? Oh sure you got to worry about lunatic kids trying kill you and their psycho parents trying to run you down in their cars but I bet none of the lady squirrels give you shit about making a face.”

The squirrel turned slightly and picked up a hollow acorn shell and ran it quickly through its tiny paws with machine like quickness.

“Or your parents telling you you’re wasting your life or your potential or what ever it is depending on the day of the week she calls.” I said with a laugh and a long sigh.

I sat up feeling childish talking to a friggin animal that would just as soon bite me even though I saved it from death.

“Aw, shit. I know life isn’t supposed to be fair, but why does it have to be so fuckin confusing.”

I said out loud to myself.

I was surprised the animal didn’t run, it was still searching the ground presumably for a Big Mac and a side of fries.

“I guess starving to death is a real possibility for youse guys though, eh? Especially a big guy like you.”

It stopped its search for a moment, as if it wanted to say, you don’t know that half of it, buddy, but it just continued its hunt. I sat up straight and realized I was just feeling sorry for myself, a path that was easy to take but would lead to nowhere. I felt the emptiness creep back into me, as I second guessed my self and my life at that point. I felt cold but was still sweating from my encounter with those punks.

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I took a few minutes and some deep breaths not letting myself go down the road to nowhere. I looked off in the distance gathering some positive thoughts and could see my car, and one of the roughnecks climbing on top of my Honda sedan.

“What the...” I said as the boy on the roof tried to rock my car back and forth.

His attempt was futile but I stood up and shouted at the top of my lungs and ran, the group of them scattered to the four winds quickly and vanished like a magicians trick as I charged the

path and felt a sudden relief at first, until I saw that my car was tilted down very low on the curbside. The two driver side tires had been slashed. I stood up loosening my tie as I looked one way down the block towards the Rite Aid and then the other block, where on the corner of Bigler street the squeaky voiced kid stood far away.

“Fuck you, you fuckin fagot!” he shouted as he flipped me a double bird before running away.

An hour later a tow truck operator informed me that not only had my tires been slashed but my tank had also been filled with sugar. For the lay person such as myself I learned that has the potential to murder the car. The truck driver was a hefty Italian looking guy with a large stomach held in by a greasy set of green gray coveralls, his hair was black and slicked back with a rough looking widows peak. In his mouth was a well chewed tooth pick that he held in his hand like a cigarette when he spoke.

“How much?” I asked feeling my heart pound.

“Ah well that’d set you back at least 1200 plus labor.”

“1200!”

“Oh yeah, at least. I’ll let you know when I get her on the lifts. You need a ride?”

“No, I got one thanks. Just call me before you do anything.”

It was twenty minutes later when Jason pulled up in his ride, a 1991 white Dodge Daytona he nick named ‘The Orca’ after Quint’s boat. He even had a personalized license plate that said

‘Orca.’

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“Sorry to drag you out.”

“It’s cool, man. I gotta go into the store today anyway.”

“You ever gonna leave that place?”

“Place would fall apart without me.”

The store he works at is ‘Pixeldelphia’ a local indie video game store that is still sitting at the Whitman Plaza on Oregon avenue to this day. Jason hated EB Games and Game Stop and would only get his games at Pixeldelphia, he didn’t care for Funcoland which was a regional chain from back in the day before Game Stop took over. He spent so much time and money the owner gave him a job way back when we were still in high school. And when he said the place would fall apart with out him he wasn’t too far off.

The old guy who owned it, Joey Papa was a nice guy maybe a little full of shit sometimes, but he didn’t know anything about video games, he started the store as a place to buy stereos and televisions back in the seventies. But the only items that turned him a profit back then, were the pong machines, but he didn’t invest too much in those things and let his plaza neighbors like Kmart and the Toys R Us market that space age stuff, as he called that stuff. He didn’t start selling Video Games until right after the crash of 1984. Then they were just a nickel a piece even for the good ones, he only bought them to fill up empty shelf space.

When the market resurrected the following year he was one of only a few stores in the city with the old Atari cartridges and consoles, a few years later he expanded and rebranded the store as it is now. Despite his success or maybe because of it he had trouble running the store. He was an old man in a young mans game and he’d hire awful people who’d steal inventory or cash straight out of the register. It had been like that for years but the store made a huge rebound once Jason started working there and took over some of the managerial duties including the hiring back around 1998 or 1999.

Despite it being owned by an old man, Joey Papa didn’t mind kids hanging out in the store as long as you didn’t act like a punk or bother the customers, the store had lots of kiosks to try out games on nearly every console. We’d hang out at the place a lot during our youth when the days were too cold and wet, I hung out more often at Lou’s Dugout on Broad street I was big into comics and baseball cards back in the day.

“You gonna call the cops?”

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“Aw those friggin kids were long gone by the time I got to the corner. There’s like a thousand kids in this neighborhood.”

“What about insurance?”

“Doesn’t cover this kind of damage because the car was parked.”

“The sucks. So did they kill the squirrel?” he asked as we pulled out.

“No. I saved it so some truck driver can run it over later.”

“Maybe not. Didn’t you say it was someones pet? Maybe it’ll find its way home.”

“It looked like it was, the guy looked well fed. And it had a collar around its neck so I could only assume it was a pet.”

“Saving squirrels, sweeping legs, you’ve had a hell of a morning. Me, I just slept until ten, showered, got rode by the FedEx lady and bought a Red Bull at Primo Hoagies.”

I kind of did a double take and stared for a moment at him, in shock as always at his random sexual encounters.

“She wasn’t a stranger, I had ordered some custom shirts for the store online.” he said defensively. “I know her from bringing packages to the store.”

“If you got it, flaunt it I guess. You meet a lot of interesting people at work don’t you?”

“Maybe, though not as homicidal the people you work with. Hell that Thomas guy probably does run with the Letuzzi family. I hear a lot of crazy stuff about him in the neighborhood.”

“So? I hear a lot crazy stuff about you in the neighborhood.”

“And it’s true, all of it. The porn stars, the bored housewives,the drunken debauchery! I deny nothing and admit everything.” he said.

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“Aw, shut the hell up.” I said though I was laughing.

Suddenly my cell rang its default tone.

“It’s the tow truck guy. Hello.”

I had to listen closely as the noise on his side was deafening, from the other an worldly shrieking tool and a expletive filled argument two men were having about about fuel injectors.

“Yeah, Mr Hooper. Dis is Sal Isakov, look it’ll cost 1800 total that’s wit parts and labor. Ya want so’s I can get started?”

“1800! No, hell no. Don’t touch it.”

“It’ll cost 200 a day to store it...” he continued non plussed by my outburst.

“Just tow it to the address I gave you, hopefully no one took my spot this morning.”

“We’ll have to charge you...”

“Fine, fine just leave the bill in my mailbox.” I said snapping my phone shut.

“1800, huh? Hey man if you need a loan, I got you.”

“Thanks, dude but I think I could cover it all myself if I can find someone to do it for a little less but shit man for that kind of money I’d be better off getting another car. I only paid 750 for the god damn thing, it’ll be tight for a while.”

“You know what you need to do?”

“Give up and join a cult for the socially awkward?”

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“Nope, you need to blow off some steam.”

“Goldeneye.” we said in unison though he said it with more feeling than I did.

Also the fact he usually whipped my ass in death matches didn’t help my enthusiasm, so we played team death matches most of the time. I’m an OK gamer, but Jason is godlike and could always hold his own online playing games like Counter Strike, Halo, and Unreal Tournament.

“You think Famke Janssen is hot?” Jason asked me while we sat on his couch.

“Well, yeah. Don’t you?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think she works as a bond girl. Not like Daniela Bianchi.”

“Who?”

“Daniela Bianchi.”

“...uh...”

“From Russia With Love.”

“Oh...she’d be old by now though wouldn’t she?” I asked.

“Exactly.”

“Are you running out of women your own age?”

“No I left you some.”

“Thanks.”

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We were quiet for a minute when Jason paused the game and looked at me.

“What?”

“Ya know, I admire you.”

“Why, cause I’m not a whore like you?”

“Nah, man, seriously. You got will power to just swear off women to chase a dream...”

“But.” I said.

“...but it’s bothering you. It’s making you unhappy.”

“Being a writer? What makes me unhappy is the catch 22 thing with...”

“No, man I not talking about the ‘you need an agent to get published but you need to be published to get the agent’ thing, you’re unhappy cause you’re lonely.”

“So what I’ve gotta bang random women like you do to be happy?” I asked sarcastically.

“No you don’t have to bang women randomly, just try dating.”

“I told you, I can’t write...”

“Oh, come on. You can’t date cause you write, I get that women don’t go looking for starving artists doing telemarketing as a first choice but that doesn’t mean you can’t ever meet someone.

I mean you’ve said yourself you don’t care if you’ll ever be a success right, that no matter who or what you’re still going to write. Right?”

“Yeah.”

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“OK, so why can’t you try for both. You really gonna spend the next fifty years pretending you have to be celibate in order to write. You’re great at fiction, man. But that’s not the type of fiction you should be practicing.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m unhappy, just a little scared of being a lonely old man typing up drivel that no one will read. Besides I really have no interest in looking for someone.”

“You don’t have to look that far, man.” Jason said.

“I don’t want your sloppy seconds...”

“Hooper, ya fancy college boy, you been swimmin around too many bow legged wimmin.”

He stared at me a moment looking surprised at my bewilderment.

“Dude, who do you mean.” I said sincerely confused.

“Natalie.”

“Nat...from my work?!” I said with a high pitched laugh. “We’re friends,” I said nodding my head in negation. “it’s a, I’m in a friend zone. I’m not her type, she’s divorced. Shit the guy she was married to was some jag off who traded stocks or bonds or some kind of shit with Wall street or finance.”

“Hooper, stop being so hard on yourself, you can’t...hold on.”

Jason’s cell rang cutting him off.

“...no, no, it’s not...no...the inventory sheet...no, no don’t. Just wait for me, I’m coming in anyway.”

“Things OK down at the office?”

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“Yeah, the old man doesn’t understand shit about inventory. I’m going in now so he doesn’t make it any worse, Christ you’d think he’d understand the concept of counting. You can chill here if you want.”

“No, I’m gonna use this extra time and write. Maybe ask around the neighborhood about someone to work on the car.”

“You’re my hero, man.” Jason said with a companionable slap on the shoulder.

Jason offered me a ride but I walked home and tried to enjoy the sunny day, but every time I tried I felt that empty feeling again. Then I got to the front of my apartment and saw my sedan leaning sadly over to one side and felt my stomach twist and turn and fill that void with burning acid. I spent a few moments staring at it and sighing heavily before I went up.

I told Jason I was going to spend this extra spare time writing but as I walked into my hot and stuffy apartment all I wanted was to open all the windows, grab a PBR out of the fridge and channel surf. I didn’t stress out about it, I had spent at least two hours everyday for the past two years writing and figured one afternoon off made little difference. I was hoping to maybe catch a Phillies game on TV but found some sappy romantic comedy starring The Wolverine and one of the Judd’s instead so I gave up and tossed the remote aside.

As I watched my phone gave the ring for a text, which was just a sound bite of WMMR DJ

Pierre Robert saying ‘Sports up!’ If someone left a voice mail, Pierre would say ‘God bless the Grateful Dead.’

‘Is this Seth?’

‘Yeah. Who’s this?’

‘Bob.’

“Oh shit, Bob.” I said happily.

Before I continue, I do have a friend named Bob, whom I’ve known since before high school, he was born in Newark and moved to Philly way back in the day. Everybody would break his balls about being a Giants fan but he was always cool about it. Since he graduated high school he 245

traveled all over the country forgoing college, and like Peter Fonda in the movie ‘Easy Rider’ he wanted to find America, he’d always comeback after not finding it.

Sometimes weeks, sometimes months later he’d be back still optimistic but tired of looking at nothing but road, though it wouldn’t be long before he’d get itchy feet and go searching again.

He was rarely on the grid however he always stayed in contact with me or Jason or one of our other friends from school. He always had interesting stories to tell about traveling through the great American nowhere, so for a little while I was under the impression this was the Bob I was texting with.

‘Hey man you still out west?’

‘No I’m in the city. I’m looking for some papers.’

I laughed out loud because Bob was a pot head, he was always making jokes like that.

‘LOL, no luck I’m guessing.’

‘No, I may require assistance.’

I laughed again at his texts. Bob was a cool guy, smart and I mean really smart, he was the type of guy that could tell you the history of the Knights Templar or the Roman Empire and who could recite the lyrics to every Velvet Underground song but he never talked like that unless he was really high or drunk.

‘LOL, OK man. I’ll help you find the papers while you look for a publisher. I hear they got the best papers.’

‘You’re a professional writer?’

‘Dude, if I had started gettin paid for writing I would’ve said about

it by now, LOL. I’m just your average weirdo who has taken a

voluntary vow of celibacy.’

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I figured he must have been really wasted so I didn’t bother asking him how he found my new number, I was just happy to hear from him.

‘You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.’

That stopped me a little because Bob would normally be the type to make a dirty joke about venereal diseases or masturbating. Him saying don’t be so hard on yourself was odd.

‘Did you text Jason?

We can meet up tonight @ Stokes 4 pints after he

done work. 1st round on me!’

‘I won’t be around for very long.’

‘Well come hang out before you vanish for another 6

to 12 weeks, alright?!’

I didn’t get another text from him until Saturday. The days leading up to them were normal other than I was walking to work. My car still sat immobile in front of my place but I decided that by October if I couldn’t find a cheaper mechanic or a better car at an affordable price, I’d just bite the bullet and spend the nearly two grand to fix the pos.

It’d be nice to wait but it would be cold again soon and I didn’t fancy walking in the blustery winds or riding the bus. I also talked to my parents that Friday, though there were no apologies from my dad, my mom was all kinds of sorry and that helped keep any further arguments at bay.

The rest of the week was uneventful, but busy.

So busy that Thomas asked me to come in for a few hours Saturday afternoon, he’d pay cash straight up so I didn’t mind though it would only be me and him and I wouldn’t have Natalie to banter with. I laughed again at the idea Jason proposed. I didn’t think I was in her league, she seemed like a grown up to me because she had taken the plunge into adulthood, had gone through a relationship much bigger than any I had ever been in and it failed but she didn’t seem to be fazed by it.

No, I don’t think I’m her type. I was shaking my head no as I walked in through door. I felt the weight of such a silly thing as Natalie liking me that way. God how depressing to rejoice about that.

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“What’s the matter wit you?” said Thomas collecting boxes of sales slips sitting besides the phones.

“Huh?”

“You look like your mom died. You alright?”

I just gave a weak smile, nodded and helped him gather up the other boxes. After that I took all the slips down the basement and we both crunched numbers for two hours or so. I went back upstairs after that to my work area to prepare some of the sales slips for the next week while Thomas got all the tickets already sold boxed and ready for UPS.

Another bright spot to working Saturday was that I could fore go the shirt and tie, and since the only thing to be done was paperwork, I’d be out of there by one at the latest with an extra hundred in my pocket. I was finishing up something when Pierre said ‘Sports up!’

‘How are you this afternoon, Seth?’

‘Christ Bob, stop drinking so much.’

It was about this time I heard Thomas downstairs cursing, just a few loud shits and a mother fucker in between. I rolled my eyes though whether it was because I thought Bob was drunk again or Thomas’ swearing I can’t remember.

‘I’ll take it under advisement. Is your day going well?’

Thomas threw another pair of f bombs followed a hearty shout of cocksucker, somewhere beneath me. Ugh, I said aloud.

‘Well my boss is losing his mind over something and

is swearing like a coked up George Carlin.’

“Mother cock fucker!” Thomas shouted as he started to come up stairs.

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I rolled my eyes and looked at Bob’s text, and had to reread it again because it was such an odd text.

‘Tell him you’ll deliver the package.’

“Huh,” I said as Thomas walked up the steps spitting some swears out as he went while Bob sent another text.

‘Tell him you’ll deliver the package. You should do that now.’

Thomas was passing by me with a medium sized box under his arm, before I could say anything he said: ‘Did you see my phone? I dropped the fuckin thing some where and I can’t find it.’

Everything happened so quickly I am really not sure, even to this day if I could have asked to take the box to the UPS store for him. But I didn’t have to ask. Before I could tell him I hadn’t seen it he put the box on my desk and pulled a pair of fifties and laid them beside the box.

“Here take this to the UPS store keep the change for working today, I gotta find that fucking phone.”

I stood up slowly holding the box trying to understand what just happened, it didn’t seem real. It was a feeling similar to when you’re fast asleep and then you’re wide awake because you’re alarm goes off. I felt like I had been awakened from a dream but didn’t quit know it yet.

“Can ya handle that?” Thomas asked though he said it absently.

I looked up from my cell and watched Thomas head back downstairs. I sort of did a double take at Bob’s text again telling myself I hadn’t read it right but I had.

“I don’t know. I’m obviously a moron.” I said to myself though I could hear Hugh Laurie saying it in my head.

I shook my head and put my phone back into my pocket and didn’t think about it, I just wanted to get to the UPS store and enjoy the rest of the afternoon. As I came out the door I caught a whiff of perfume before walking into Natalie who was heading inside.

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“Oh, hey Seth.”

Although it was Saturday and she was dressed causally Natalie looked very lovely wearing a simple pair of Levis and a dark T-shirt, the perfect weekend uniform.

“Hey, Nat. What are you doin here?”

“Thomas texted me a few minutes ago and said he needed me to take a package to the UPS store.

He’s lucky I don’t live that far.” she said.

I looked back at the door quickly before looking back to Natalie. Trying to ignore the glitch in

‘The Matrix’ feeling coming over me as I looked at the box I held.

“Did he mean the sales for the week? He just asked me to take it up there for him, said he lost his phone.”

I took another glimpse behind me wondering if Thomas wasn’t messing around, but even this far away I could still hear him cursing up a storm as he looked for his cell. Before I said anything Natalie spoke.

“But he knows you don’t have a car right now. He can be so inconsiderate sometimes.”

“Well don’t be too hard on him. He’s half out of his mind looking for his phone, I think.”

“Still he needs to think of other people. Come on I’ll give you a ride.”

“Really? You’re gonna waste a perfect Saturday chauffeuring me across town.”

“Well it’s either that or I go to Cherry Hill and visit my folks.”

“Ew, god, New Jersey. I’m sorry yeah gimme a ride no one should go to New Jersey.” I said with wide foreboding eyes and a goofy smile.

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“Hey,” she said making a fist ready to punch though her anger was sarcastic.. “I was born in Jersey, ya know.”

“Yes, and I’ve felt sorry for you ever since.” I said wincing for the punch as she smiled but looked ready to swing regardless.

“Do you wanna walk to downtown?”

“No, ma’am. I’ll behave.” I said.

I saw her face had gotten red and I felt bad for a minute about teasing her for being from New Jersey.

“Sincerely, sorry. I’ll stop.”

I could see her lips, they were red and full and parted just the slightest before she spoke again.

“It’s OK.” she said with a smile.

The ride was slow as we headed north, but it was comfortable. I forgot about the whole phone thing and was grateful not to have to spend money on a cab. We mostly shot the breeze about whatever, it was a nice day and conversation was easy. The line at the UPS store was long but shortened quickly and I got out of there in under ten minutes.

We had picked up on a conversation about the best burgers in town. Now that may seem odd to those not from Philly, and I do like cheese steaks but I’d prefer a hamburger any day of the week.

“I like Gooey Louies, they have the great Hamburger Hoagies and the best cheese steaks.” said Natalie as she pulled onto Bainbridge street.

“Nick’s Roast beef is my favorite for cheese steaks, hands down. The best burgers, hoagie version or otherwise is Beatnik Burgers.”

“Where’s that?”

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“Around the corner from here as a matter of fact. It’s right across the street from Tattooed Mom’s.”

“Oh, yeah?” she said simply.

“You want to try them now? I’ll pay.”

She turned and looked at me quickly for a moment before looking back to the street ahead. I immediately realized how that might of come off and clarified.

“To say thank you for the ride.”

She wasn’t looking at me and realized I might have messed up a lovely afternoon. I felt like the worlds biggest idiot, this gorgeous woman thinks I’m asking her out, me. An artist who would starve and be homeless if he had to rely on his craft to survive. Before I could say never mind or apologize for coming off all weird she spoke.

“You don’t have to do that.” she said not sounding upset or offended.

“I’d like too, I should repay you for the ride at least. I want to repay you, I mean that’s what friend is supposed to do. We’re friends, right?”

I tried not to sound like a big wuss saying that, but I was sincere and didn’t want her to feel obligated by my offer of lunch.

“Of course we are.” she said and smiled at me quickly before looking back towards the street again.

I felt a million times better seeing that smile. I was genuinely worried, and felt my heart stop pounding so loudly. Me ask this woman out? Judging by that slightly awkward exchange, I’d have to inform Jason how stupid and ridiculous of an idea it was for him to even suggest I ask Natalie out.

We sat in Beatnik Burgers, a little restaurant on South street that sold a dozen varieties of hamburgers, it was a popular spot but that afternoon it was quiet and only a few other customers were eating. The smell of frying onions and bell peppers sizzling on the grill made my stomach 252

roar with hunger. On its dark wood panel walls were many 8x10 pictures of poets like Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, Bob Kaufman and others. On the wall beside the booth we sat at was a large poster for a movie called ‘The Beatniks.’ starring Tony Travis and Peter Breck.

Near by outside a boom box spat out some kind of techno dance music you might hear at a rave.

We started off talking about the incident with the kids trying to hurt the squirrel and made our way through burgers and fries as Natalie told me a little more about her brief acquaintanceship with marriage. He had been sleeping around on her, it kind of shocked me that people did that to each other.

To be able to find someone who wants you for you and to betray them like that. Or even worse, pretending you want someone and to go build a life together, a life built on a foundation of lies.

That kind of thing scared me a hell of a lot more than the possibility of being a lonely old man did.

Though she did still go out on dates sometimes she said. She hadn’t been serious with anyone and just went with the flow.

“What about you? How’s your social life been?” she asked me as she swirled her soda and ice with a neon green straw.

“Oh, well I...” I said trying to explain without sounding like an idiot.

“If you’re not comfortable saying...”

“No it’s not that its just...well what your husband did...”

“Ex...”

“...ex husband did was fucked and totally wrong. And I felt silly telling you I don’t date because I’m a writer.”

She looked confused so I told her what had happened with my last relationship, how and why it ended.

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“Oh, well you don’t someone stuck up like that. Your face doesn’t look weird when you do that.”

she said with a chuckle.

“You know the face?” I said feeling a little horrified she knew the face as well.

“Yeah, you make it sometimes when we’re elbow deep in numbers and I’m hogging the calculator. But so what, everybody’s weird. I had a roommate once who farted whenever she laughed really hard.”

We both laughed and I didn’t feel quit so horrified anymore. She was quiet for a few seconds then her brow furrowed.

“So, wait. Didn’t you break up with her like a couple years ago?” she asked.

I just nodded, feeling shy all of a sudden. She looked sad and surprised at the same time.

“I know it might seem...”

I tried not to speak too quickly, which was a bad habit I had since I was a kid when explaining something that embarrassed me. I just took a deep breath and continued.

“silly to be that way. But I can’t turn my back from writing, it’s like a piece of me, ya know. I can’t be with somebody who wants to take a piece of me away, cause then it’ll be another piece and then another and before I know it I’m just a shell of who I am. I’d rather be a lonely failed writer than be someone I’m not.”

I felt like I was just vomiting out words and felt shy again about confessing so much to her. But when I stopped talking she was nodding.

“I understand.” she said simply.

“You do?” I said trying to hide the euphoria I felt that she understood.

“Yeah.” she said emphatically “Did I tell you why my husband cheated on me?”

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“No.”

“He said it was because I wouldn’t let him take care of me. He wanted me to be a stay at home wife and raise kids and bake cookies and pies like his mother did.”

“Lame.”

“Right. I mean one day I’d love to have kids but I wanted to wait a few years, I wanted a career first and I told him being a full time house wife wasn’t what I had signed up for, and that I liked working. He said no wife of his would need to work while he was making over 200k a year.”

she said the last part with an eye roll.

I gave a soft whistle at that number, Natalie nodded and sipped her soda before continuing.

“I wish he had told me this before the wedding, and I told him money doesn’t make me happy.

Working, having my own life, me being me is what makes me happy. I can love someone and take care of them as long as I can take care of myself as well.”

“That really sucks he did that to you, Nat.” I said.

“Thanks. I just use caution around guys like that. Those kinds of men are the ones who think a man is supposed to take care of a woman and be all kinds of macho and shit. You gotta be on your guard or you wind up dating a guy like Thomas.”

“You dated, Thomas?” I asked trying to sound neutral but feeling a little woozy from the thought.

“God, no. He reminds me a lot of my ex-husband though.” she said filling me with intense relief.

“He’s made some passes at me, Thomas not my ex.”

“What. When?” I said feeling my stomach turn.

“Well there was that time back in January, when we broke all those sales records for the year before. Do you remember?”

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“Oh yeah, Thomas ordered pizza and beer for everybody.”

“Yeah, well that night he had too much to drink and he grabbed my ass.” she said sounding as disgusted as I felt.

I felt my stomach filling with boiling water, I could feel my face getting hot as my hands became fists that were white from squeezing. I clenched my teeth so hard I could hear a white noise fill my head like a choir.

“Dirty cock sucker.” I said in a near growl.

I felt my anger retreat some when Natalie’s cool soft hand found one of my hot fists and held it briefly.

“It’s OK. He apologized and pulled back a lot on the flirting after that.” she said with a smile before letting go of my hand which felt strangely like it was filled with electricity.

“Nobody should be putting their hands on you.” I said with a deep breath.

We finished our meal and talked for a little while longer before we left and she dropped me off at my place. I went upstairs for a shower and decided to move my writing time for tonight and went to Jason’s place to see what he was up to. I was feeling good and couldn’t stay inside or be alone when I felt so good. Hanging out with Natalie and talking with her made me feel better about myself.

As I turned down Colorado street I thought again about the odd text from Bob and thought about telling Jason but I wasn’t sure exactly what to tell him about that. As I approached his house Jason came out with car keys in hand. His eyebrows went up when he saw me.

“Hooper! You wanna score some fair Spanish ladies?”

“Nah, I got a headache. You heading out?”

“Just to Target, gotta re-up my vitamins.”

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“Uh-huh, Viagra isn’t a vitamin ya know.”

“Hooper, my testosterone is one of Viagra’s base ingredients. Upon the girth of my manhood is the foundation of empires.” he said in a mighty voice.

We were on our way when I told him about my lunch with Natalie.

“You went out on date! Good for you, here’s to swimmin with bow legged wimmin.” he said in a very passable Robert Shaw voice as he offered up a high five.

“No,no, no. Settle down, Mr Quint. She gave me a ride to the UPS store and I was paying her back. I think she thought that for a minute too. She got red in the face when I made fun of her being from Jersey and it got awkward with her for a minute until I cleared it up with her.”

“She got red in the face when you teased her?”

“Yeah, I told her I’d behave and she looked red.”

“ Uh-huh. And you say it was awkward, until you cleared it up?” Jason asked.

“Yes.”

He made a hmm kind of sound as he went quiet or a few seconds. As if analyzing the story.

“Did she say anything awkward or was it just you?”

I looked at him closely to judge if he was being serious.

“Just me. Why?”

“She didn’t get awkward or act differently.”

“No, and I know what you’re trying to do.”

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“What?”

“You know what. Your trying to do one of those psycho sexual metaphysical porno analysis, trying to figure out the alleged subliminal sexual signals she supposedly said to me with her body.”

“What, me? I don’t know what you’re going on about.” Jason said in a mock innocent sounding tone of voice.

“The hell you don’t, Quint, I’ve heard these theories from you before, like if a woman crosses her legs away from you it means she doesn’t like you or she might have daddy issues and you explain how to turn that shit to eleven on some imaginary pornographic Richter scale trying to convince me there’s a possible cluster fuck situation you need to instigate.”

“Alright, settle down, Beavis.” Jason said with a heavy sigh. “it’s just that...”

“Just what?”

“I just think she’d go out with you if you’d ask her. I’m detecting signals.”

“You weren’t there.”

“No, but Seth I’ve seen things and I heard you talk and you tell a very detailed story as any good writer such as yourself does...”

“Thank you.”

“...but sometimes you miss the obvious things staring you right in the face. I would bet all of my pogs and my N64 that if you asked her out she would say yes.”

“Well that’s a bullshit bet.”

Jason gave a falsetto gasp though he looked convincingly sad when he spoke.

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“Hooper, that hurts.”

“I’m sorry, Jason. But you’re only making that bet so I’ll have the courage to ask her out wherein I’ll do it and get rejected. And because of that I’ll feel bad and because you will be wrong you’ll feel bad and I’ll feel bad for you feeling bad and you’ll keep the N64 and your pogs because I’m a Play Station guy and I gave you all my pogs freshman year in high school because I didn’t want them anymore.”

“You still should try.”

“No, it’s practically guaranteed she’d say no. How many times have you said ninety percent of women are going to reject you regardless of anything.”

Jason looked at me with a sad look knowing full well he had said that to me often enough.

“You’re just trying to get me to be upbeat. I appreciate that but asking Natalie is a losing situation you’re not basing your assessment on any facts that I can see.”

“Uh-huh. Let me ask you, where did Natalie get the idea to start reading Douglas Adams?” he asked keeping his face forward.

“From me.”

“OK. And she asks you about how’s your writing going sometimes, right? Without you having to bring it up.”

“Yeah, but she never asked to read my stuff so she was only being nice.”

“Dude, seriously? If you were personal friends with an artist, say Picasso, would you ask him for a free painting.”

“Well no, that’d be rude. But I’m not friggin Picasso and besides...”

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“Besides, what? She’s supposed to offer you money? She probably has no idea how to ask you about it.”

“Why?” I asked being drawn in to his reasoning.

“She’s not dumb about it like everyone else is when it comes to your writing. You said it annoys you when people say ‘why aren’t you published?’ , well I would legit bet my N64 and pogs that she either knows why or has a pretty good idea about why you haven’t been and does not care.”

“You’re serious.”

He was as serious as I had ever seen him before then or since. Even more serious then when we were still in high school and he was really getting into Final Fantasy 7 and was in a funk for a whole month when the character Aerith got killed, that affected him deeply in way I still haven’t been able to understand. He’d swore that day he’d beat every boss, collect every item and unlock every secret in that game and reach level 99 in her memory, and he did.

“Yes, I’m serious. Even if I’m wrong and she says no, you still gotta admit she is a cool chick.”

“You think so.”

“Hell yeah. Remember at the party I had. We were playing Mario Kart and I got shrunk from the lightening bolt and you said...”

“I’ve been ionized,” I said.

“Then she said, ‘but I’m okay, now.’ Dude, she got the Buckaroo Banzai reference. You will never meet another woman in this century that knows about the 8th dimension. It would be a crime not asking her out.”

I had to admit he gave a convincing argument, the sight of her smile was something I hadn’t admitted to anyone that I thought about sometimes. But in the end I just couldn’t believe in something so fantastical, no matter how well intentioned my best friend was being it was still something I didn’t believe.

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“You’re a good friend, man. But I’ve got to be practical, I don’t have a car and I’ll probably pay through the ass either fixing it or replacing it. And though you’ve swayed me a little, we both know that she is ninety percent likely gonna say no and you can handle that kind of rejection.

Me, that’s all I hear from everyone, present company excluded of course,...”

“Of course.”

“I hear it from my mom and dad, from every magazine I mail out my short stories to, agent’s and publishers too, hearing it from Heather was just the icing on an already huge cake. I stopped dating so I could stop being rejected for once. And even if she said yes, that doesn’t...”

I had a sudden flashback to this afternoon, of her saying everybody is weird, and that she knew what face I was talking about. I didn’t know if that was good or bad, I just know my heart jumped when I remembered that and it frightened me into thinking it was wrong, asking Natalie out or believing she could accept me a failed writer as a someone to go out with. I didn’t care if I failed at writing, but my brain told me women don’t want failures in big bright red letters.

“Doesn’t what?” Jason asked as we pulled into the Target parking lot at Snyder Plaza.

The strip mall was Saturday busy but the parking lot wasn’t choked with cars. I looked around at all the people walking in and out of the Target in front of us, and next door at the grocery store and others walking around the corner towards the Riverview plaza movie theater that I went on my first date when I was fourteen. I saw a lot of couples close to my age walking hand and hand looking more confident about their lives than I ever did.

“I don’t know. I just don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

“OK, Seth. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. It’s just that I’m so confused about everything and I had a few eventful moments last week I don’t want to have to ever go through again. I just wanna enjoy the little things, write about big things, and enjoy good times with friends.”

“Sounds like a plan, Hooper! Slow ahead!” Jason said as Quint with a hearty smack on my shoulder.

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The store was busy but was not as packed as it could sometimes get during Christmas. Jason went to straight to the health food section with a red basket and filled it with all kinds vitamins such as A,C,E, B6,B12, Folic Acid. I watched wide eyed as he bought this and a variety of condoms.

“Do you have a cold, or are the end times coming?” I asked when he saw me staring.

“Adult film stars recommend these vitamins for an increased libido.” he said shaking a bottle at me.

“I’m surprised you don’t need to pick up prescription for penicillin.”

“Hey I practice safe sex.” he said holding up a box of Trojans.

We made a quick diversion to the back of the store to the video games so Jason could spy on the enemy as he called it, though it was him just seeing what they had new in stock and how much those items cost. Once some of these items were bought here there was a better than average chance the buyer would end up trading it in at Pixeldelphia.

“Gotta keep an eye on these big chain bastards. They’ll be the first ones to dump the merch if there is another crash.” Jason would said as we cruised the area.

Nothing in particular caught his eye as I browsed casually so we just made for the front of the store to ring out. Although there were rows and rows of registers lined evenly along the front of the store only a few were open. The lines were long and moved slowly. As we got into one there was shouting towards the back of the store.

“Oh my god!” said a woman.

“What the fuck!” shouted a young man.

We both looked back from where we stood in line and saw two Target employees quickly head down an aisle then turn off somewhere. As we turned back to the front a moment later there was more shouting.

“I see it!” said another woman

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“Over there, over there, over there!” an older male voice shouted which was followed by the sound of breaking glass.

Many of the customers around us waiting in line immediately cried out in a long oh sound followed by some rambunctious laughter. Jason laughed as I looked back trying to see what was going on but all I saw was the bright red shirts of a few employees go racing by. As the laughter

died down the length of the line dwindled slowly. After standing around for a few minutes my eyes wandered to the exit doors, besides them where a pair of brightly lit arcade machines, between them was a bench that was empty.

“Hey, man I’ll meet you on the bench over there.”

“Aight.”

I walked to the bench hoping it was clean enough to sit on when I noticed the arcade machine to the left of it. The one on the right was a claw machine filled with mini plushes of Disney characters. The other was a skill type of game called ‘The Key Master.’ If you’re not familiar with it, it’s a game you have to line up a key on a moving arm with a key hole and pressing a button at the right time to get the key through the hole.

They are generally fifty cents to a dollar to play depending on the prizes. This machine was a dollar a play and when I saw one of the prizes I was surprised it wasn’t more to play. It had three rows of key holes with three on each row.

My eyes went immediately to the last key hole in the top row. Behind the clear plastic key hole was a set of car keys, real car keys, there was a key chain attached with the Ford Logo and a key fob. On the side of the machine was laminate sign announcing that our local Roxborough Ford Dealership donated a brand new 2007 Ford Focus SE (pictured below was the car) with cash spent on this machine going to the Shriners. The Focus in the picture was a red so bright my eyes watered.

I licked my lips and said aloud I wish I could win that. I jumped at the sudden sound and vibration in my pocket and sighed when I realized it was just my cell. I looked on the tiny window on the front and saw it was a text from Bob. I felt trepidation for a moment but laughed it off and opened my phone.

‘Please, play the key game.’

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I felt my insides go icy, I wanted to close the phone and ignore it though I don’t know why. I looked around suddenly sure Bob would pop out some where from this crowd of shoppers, his hair a mess from being out in the wild and cheeks red from not too many drinks but from a few thousand laughs at my expense. But I didn’t see my friend Bob, I just kept getting these obscure creepy texts from him.

‘what are you doing, ur freaking me out’

‘Play the game, you must.’

I felt my paranoia go up as I realized it could be identity theft. Bob could have been killed, and whoever stole his identity could be stalking me I realized. I texted back feeling angry, that this impostor hurt my friend Bob who was as close to a hippie as you could get and wouldn’t hurt a goddamn fly.

‘what happened to Bob, tell me or I am callin 911 right

now’

‘I am Bob, I have hurt no one. All I ask is that you play the game’

‘Why’ I texted back furiously. He texted back that he promised no one I knew was in danger or hurt and that I should just play the key game. I don’t know why but I felt calmer, not relieved just calmer. I was trying to convince myself it was still Bob pulling my leg and that I had almost panicked him into giving up.

‘OK, time to play.’

I snapped my phone shut and approached ‘The Key Master’ just as Jason arrived with his vitamins.

“Why do you look like you joined the Army and are ready to fight some Nazis?”

“I’m gonna win this car.” I said digging out a dollar bill from my pocket.

“And you look pissed off enough to try and do such a thing.”

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I leaned my head up against the glass, giving a quick look at the other prizes but not even the Nintendo DS Lite could keep me from that cherry red Focus. I fed the dollar and heard something whir inside as I let the arm rise up and my eyes focused on it going higher and higher and push!

“Damn,” I said as I dug in my pocket but came up with lint. “shit you got any cash?”

“Uh lemme see.” he said searching his wallet then his own pockets. “I’m doubting it I paid with.... a card... ah...yeah here ya go. Only three singles.”

“Three bucks is better than none.”

“Good attitude, lets hope it gets them keys to drop.”

“Three tries.”

The first looked and felt a tad off I could feel it as soon as I pressed the button. I even swore under my breath the moment I hit the button. It hit the edge of the key hole by almost a half inch.

I felt myself lose breath when I saw how far off I was.

“It’s okay. Nobody ever wins the first few times,” said Jason in an easy tone. “ at least now you know when it’s too soon to hit it.”

“Right.” I said feeling still confident.

I put dollar number two in and watched its robotic looking yellow arm rise higher and higher and push! I could feel that push in my arm, like it had a heart beat that had just come alive as I pressed that button. I could taste the spit filling my mouth and it tasted like I had licked the head of a nine volt battery. I could imagine the key going through that clear hole catching the hook that held the keys and pushing it until the spring pushed and those keys came tumbling down.

I imagined it as clearly as any thing I’ve ever written, but what I imagined and what I saw were two different things. The very tip of the key caught the hole by perhaps no more than a centimeter. I felt my heart thunder almost in anger at my failure.

“Third time pays for all.” I said.

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“I thought it was ‘last time pays for all”

“No, I’m pretty sure its third.”

I placed the third and final dollar in, I had it timed now. I had counted six seconds and it was just a smidgen too long, it had to be five and half seconds at the most before I could push. Five and a half seconds and I’d have a new car. I wasn’t one for games of chance, I never played the lottery or ever had a desire to visit AC or gamble at the casino they got on Columbus blvd now, so I was caught off guard in this feeling of imminent victory that maybe only a gambling addict may be familiar with.

I let myself get caught up in Bob’s text and in the fact that I could end a big problem in my life right now with a press of a button. I believed it and if I was wrong hey I was out a buck and Jason a few dollars more. I nodded my head and fed the last one dollar bill in and watched the arm as it whirred again. One, two, three, four five....push!

The key hit the edge again, with hardly any difference in space from the last try. I felt my stomach drop at that, I heard Jason take in a breath sounding disappointed as well. I shook my head in negation and laughed a little despite my failure.

“Well Hooper you could...”

That was as far as Jason got when we both heard what sounded almost like a car back fire but it had a kind of boom sound to it like when a bulb pops. We both looked up and behind us towards the store as all the lights went out, casting everything in gloom. There were many groans and swears among the people inside, not just customers either.

“Shit, I hope people don’t start doing a snatch and run, maybe we should...”

That was as far as I got, I saw Jason turn back to the Key Master game and was staring hard at it, his brow was furrowed.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Dude! Dude, you won the car! You got it look!” he said with huge eyes and a wide mouth while sticking his hand in hole at the bottom.

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“No I didn’t.”

I walked towards him feeling angry with Jason, it was a dumb joke and yeah maybe I’d brought it on myself but I was done. I was ready to tell Jason to knock his shit off until he pulled out the

keys and tossed them to me with a smile that said, yes you did, Hooper. I caught them and felt my hand fill with a similar kind of electricity I felt when Natalie touched my hand.

The next hour was kind of a whirlwind, we sat at the bench still as the main store manger a young blond haired woman who looked to still be in her twenties spoke to me with a stone face upon which sat a pair of wire rim glasses giving her an even stonier look. She wore a red shirt and khaki pants, dressed the same as a regular employee.

She had a name tag though with a sticker attached that identified her as Nina Store Manager, which looked to have been custom printed. It was adorned with daisies that were rainbow colored, her name and the word manager were in a smoky bubble gum pink colored font. If it hadn’t been for Jason I’m not sure it would have gone as easily as it had, I had to wait and speak to a manager for legal reasons.

She was clearly overworked and was handling customers that were in the middle of a purchase, as only the manager apparently could ring up customers without electricity somehow on the registers. She talked so fast at me I felt guilty.

“You won the car?” she asked in a quick brisk tone.

“Yeah, uh yes, I did.”

She looked at me closely over the tops of her rims, as if I were being illegitimate. I felt the word liar spell itself out on my forehead with a big arrow pointing down, the arm was rolling back to position. I saw it, so did Jason I didn’t get those keys to fall. I waited for her to quiz me some more on how I won.

“I’ll be back.” she said in a near huff.

“Dude,” I said quietly to Jason after she was gone. “I didn’t win. I mean you saw the arm go back, I didn’t get it in the hole.”

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Jason began to giggle.

“Dude, stop laughing. I didn’t win, how the fuck did those keys get there?”

“Settle down, Beavis. Who cares? I mean those keys were in there for someone to win right? So why not you? You need a car, you’re the perfect person to win. If the pistons or servo or whatever the hell is broke on the game, that’s on them.”

“But the manager what if there’s video, that lady...” I said still worried.

“You let me worry about the ladies.” he said with a wink.

After ten minutes the manager returned looking still stone faced and out of sorts. She was about to speak when Jason spoke first.

“Nina. I’m sorry may I call you by your first name?” he said in a tone that was soft not overtly friendly or over bearing, warm but firmly confident and equally professional.

His tone certainly caught her attention, I could see her face soften slightly as she just gave a nod.

“Nina, let me first apologize for me and my friend and associate swamping you with all this legalese while you put up with all this chaos.”

“Oh,” she said giving a slight smile. “it’s OK. I just have to make sure your friend isn’t a thief or trying defraud us or the car dealership and this is routine procedure. And without power my key is the only key that can open registers and some customers can snatch and run if I’m not careful.”

“Exactly what my friend Seth was saying just a moment ago as we discussed how well you’ve handled all this capitalist anarchy. I plan on making it my business to call the head office and tell them how admirably you made this for me and my friend despite it all. Especially one with such a talent for graphic design, did you use Photoshop or CorelDRAW to blend your colors?”

Any trace of stoniness left as a surprised smile lit up her eyes.

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“I used GIMP actually.” she said with a tone that sounded soft though she was reserved.

“Ah, a Linux user. Are you an art student?”

“I was, I have a BA in graphic design from The Art Institute. I even took some art history at Temple.”

“Well we should drink wine and talk Renaissance sometime.”

“Should we?” she asked with a small smile.

Before the conversation could continue, Nina left again to assist another customer. Only a few minutes passed and she held a clipboard this time and was smiling as she gave me the gist of the situation in a friendlier voice. Basically the car was mine once I signed some papers but it would be a few days before I had it physically, the keys in the game were just a prop. I didn’t mind,the only car problem I had now was where to scrap my old car.

It was nice having that kind of problem. I felt same way I had when I won first place in an essay contest at school back in the 6th grade. I wrote about the reunification of Germany and won ten bucks that I spent at a book fair. It stands out because that was the first time I wrote something and I got paid for it and it was a feeling just like this.

“Man, I can’t believe what a lucky bastard you are.” Jason said though he was all smiles as he slapped me on the back as we got back into The Orca.

“Yeah, I know. I hardly ever win stuff. Hey did you get that girls number?”

“No, I gave her mine. I gotta tell you I love women that are into art like that.”

“Why?”

“It usually means they’re in touch with their sexuality.”

“You think she is?”

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“Yes, she told me she has a replica of ‘Wine of Babylon’ hanging in her apartment.”

“Jean-Michel Basquiat, wow that is pretty hip.”

“I know right. No one could be that hip and not be in touch with themselves.”

“You sure?”

“If I’m wrong I weep for the future. Hey what made you play that game anyway?” Jason asked off hand.

I didn’t tell him about the texts from Bob. Mostly because I didn’t know how to explain. I just shrugged and said I felt lucky and he let it go. I felt kind of annoyed with him for it for a moment, I would have asked a few follow up questions.

Like does this happen often and can we hit the casinos the next time you’re feeling it? But Jason wasn’t curious minded like me, probably why I’m a writer. I was still worried though, about the whole Bob thing. My winning this car was not entirely legit, I didn’t believe it to be anyway, what worried me even more was, lets say I’m right.

Lets say the guy texting me that says he’s Bob, did something to that arcade game to make it so I did win. A car worth twenty grand easy just given to me for no reason? Nope, not now, not ever, and certainly not in this neighborhood, any schmuck with half a brain would be calling bullshit on a story like that.

I couldn’t call the cops because I had no proof the real Bob was hurt or in danger and would just open a whole can of worms about the new car. Maybe it really was Bob with some elaborate prank, but that couldn’t be possible. I don’t think the Target corporation would just hand over a new car just so Bob could mess with me.I went home feeling excited one minute and terrified the next, wondering what might happen tomorrow.

As I sat at my desk in front of my computer I tried to write but for the first time in a long time I was too distracted. Bob hadn’t sent me a text since just before winning the car. I wondered if maybe the FBI was investigating Thomas and trying to bribe me into snitching on him, but I didn’t know of anything illegal so if they were they would be barking up the wrong tree.

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Then I remembered they’re the FBI, they could lock me up and throw away the key even if I didn’t know anything. Or what if it was some crazy guy who stole peoples IDs, that was the new crime now that everything was going to be online someday, you didn’t need very much to do it.

I’d seen a whole special about it on 20/20 last year and felt my stomach gurgle.

I got up from my desk and took a deep breath as I went to the fridge in my kitchen and fished out a can of PBR. I took a gulp and let out a belch and felt my stomach ease as I reminded my self I’d done nothing wrong. I would declare the win on my taxes come January and there would be nothing to hide.

“I’ve done nothing illegal,” I said aloud as if to make sure it didn’t sound like bull. “someone pretending to be a friend suggested I try a skill game. He didn’t say I would win, he merely suggested I play. I even have the texts to prove it.”

Yes, this ‘Bob’ never once said I’d win. Only said I must play, and I was still under the impression it was my friend playing a joke. Was it my fault if I came away with a brand new car?

Yes I decided, so I deleted my texts from Bob and if anyone asks I’ll tell them exactly what I told Jason, I just felt lucky. Can’t prove I wasn’t feeling lucky, so there. Bases covered.

But still this was Phillies, country, you could have your bases covered and still give up an inside the park grand slam. Bob would still text me whether I removed him from my contacts or not. I’d just tell him to leave me alone next time or I’d have him blocked, and call the police.

“No stupid! The car, remember? They’re gonna ask about the car!” I said taking another swig.

God how can I be a criminal, I can’t get away with anything.

“This is so stupid,” I said aloud. “I’m not a criminal I didn’t break the law. I didn’t do anything.”

I paced the floor and drank a few more beers before I passed out and slept on the couch being greeted by an early morning bar of sunlight the next day shining between the curtains and miraculously finding my eye. I’d forgotten why I had gotten so drunk until I saw my flip phone on the coffee table.

I sat up nursing my pounding head but feeling somewhat relieved when I saw no new texts, I nodded and made my way into the kitchen to brew some good and angry coffee, the angrier the better. I’d nurse this headache away, maybe watch the Phillies in the afternoon and finish the weekend typing away. My bones and muscles felt like they were made of taffy but as I moved 271

around, showered, cleaned up my beer cans and opened a few curtains to let in the sunshine, I felt better and free of worry about Bob.

I convinced myself that if Bob kept up with these games I’d simply call the police and feign ignorance about the car. If they had to take it away so be it, if I am honest with the police they

would show mercy I was sure. So I waited for this ‘Bob’ to text me and if it wasn’t all on the up and up I’d simply dial 911 and say someone has kidnapped my friend.

As the afternoon began I watched the Phillies beat the Cubbies at Wrigley to stay above 500, after the game I made an early light supper and was just finishing that up to write when I heard Pierre.

“Of course. Just as I’m about to get some writing done, I’d wager my new car it’s Bob.”

I took my cell from my pocket and saw Bobs name on the tiny screen. I held my breath and nodded as I opened it up and read the message.

‘Did you get the car?’

“Ahh,” I gasped and began to text back quickly.

‘had nothin 2 do with you. stop, lying.’

‘I’m not lying. I assisted you in getting a new car.’

“Shut the fuck up, Bob!!” I said through pursed lips giving my cell the bird as I looked around waiting for FBI or SWAT to start crashing through my windows.

‘no no no way! I broke no laws, ur the crook

wheres my friend Bob, the real Bob. I’ll call

cops, car isn’t worth friends life’

‘Seth, I was never in contact with

your friend, whom I share the same name

with. It was an unexpected coincidence.’

272

‘Okay, great. Then stop texting me I’ll delete you

from my cell an we can all move on. I don’t want

the car either, you can keep it I’m not goin to jail’

‘there is little proof anything illegal occurred.

I assure you. The car is yours.’

‘No, I don’t want it. You can’t do that, not for no

reason.

this isn’t a Dickens novel.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Maybe you don’t, but let me

ask you something. You didn’t do this for no reason?

Did

you? Go ahead tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll call u a

fuckin

liar. You’re tryin bribing me into doin something.’

I waited as my body felt like it was encased with pins and needles. I had a sensation of reading a Holmes story right towards the end when Sherlock is on a roll and knows the facts of the case like he knows the back of his hand.

‘Yes, I am.’

I laughed aloud at my being right, and entertained the thought of calling the police on him. God only knows what the hell he would ask me to do. Run drugs, guns, Chinese bootleg DVD

players, god only knows what.

‘well let me tell you something, Bob, if that is ur

name

but I don’t know u. I didn’t ask you for a god damn

car

and I’m not doin shit 4 u, you wanna take the car

back

273

go a fuckin head I’d rather walk than do somethin

criminal or dishonorable. So fuck off!!’

‘What if a friend was in danger. I know

friends are important, if one was in danger

would you take that risk?’

‘Are my friends in danger? Or is this a threat?’

‘Neither, it is my friends that are in danger.

What I require is slightly illegal but it will

save the lives of my friends.’

‘No. I don’t know your friends. Whatever you did it’s

ur fault, and ur mistake it doesn’t involve me.’

‘Please, I need your help.’

‘No, no, no! Look you don’t seem to get it you are askin me to do somethin sorta yes sorta no illegal which

means

I could wind up goin to some prison 2 get my ass

pounded

why? So u an ur friends can go on a crime spree. No

thnx.

‘Please, only you can help me.’

‘No, for Christ sakes you are just some dude on a cell

in

another neighborhood. I’ve never seen you and you’re

askin me to break the law, do you hear ur self?!’

‘If we spoke face to face, would

that help?’

274

‘No, stay away from the buzzer. Don’t come to the

door

I’ll call 911 if you come inside this building.’

‘OK, then look out ur back yard.’

I put my cell in my pocket and walked to the end of the hall where my bedroom sat. There was one window in the room next to my bed which looked down on the back yard where there was a tree growing out of a minuscule yard that connected to the alleyway beside it. The tree was just a tall, though scrawny thing that grew crookedly out of the concrete ground of the square backyard. I approached the room slowly and parted the curtain looking down into the 20x10

sized yard.

I held my cell in my hand ready to punch 911 the moment I saw anyone or anything suspicious down there. It was empty though, no one was in the yard or in the alleyway or beyond. I didn’t open the window to look out further it was obvious no one was around. I heard Pierre again and took my cell from my pocket.

‘Look in the tree.’

I read it and then looked up and to left slightly where the tree stood, thinking it was joke. The tree was tall for sure but if some thing heavier than a house cat climbed this tree it would fall over, so I was laughing as I looked. But the laughs died quicker than they came as I looked and saw with sheer disbelief the squirrel I saw at the park, it was too big to confuse with some other squirrel and the red collar on its neck was hard to miss.

It stood on it’s back legs looking me in the eyes, I felt frozen as I watched it slowly walk on its hind quarters, walking the way an animal does in a Disney cartoon, though I was always more partial to Don Bluth myself. I remember hearing my cell drop to the floor not caring it cost one hundred and fifty bucks while watching this squirrel carefully walk down a branch that extended towards my window close enough to touch the sill. As it walked towards me upright, I saw it had something strapped to its back though I couldn’t see what exactly.

When it reached the glass of my window I felt my heart which was already pounding hard, redouble when it used one of its tiny paws to knock on the window and then proceed to use both to gesture to me to open up. It took a few seconds for me to move, I looked behind though I didn’t know why, I looked and saw my cell laying on the floor.

275

“Maybe I drank too much and passed out again.”

“You didn’t.” said Bob. “May I come in now?”

I looked around the room again still unsure if I was awake or not. I didn’t see me lying asleep or dead on the couch. Without another thought or word I opened the window.

As soon as it had room, the squirrel ducked under the window and I saw what it was carrying on its back. It was a Nokia 3310, you know the ones, they were blue bodied with an LCD screen that was only good for playing the snake game and Tetris. They were mostly known for their durability, this particular one had four tiny holes drilled into its body, two on each side which were threaded with rawhide straps allowing this squirrel to wear the Nokia like a back pack.

We stared at each other for a few seconds, I don’t know if squirrels can smile but this one appeared to be smiling at me. It’s eyes were just black marbles but I could sense the intelligence in the way its eyes moved as at it smiled. When it spoke I noticed right away how its lips and tongue moved in a way that was vaguely human.

“Thank you for letting me inside.” he said simply and did a sort of gesture with one of its paws as it removed its Nokia back pack.

“Uh....yeah.” was all I could say.

“Does this help convince you?”

“Uh...yeah...uh I mean no...who... what is this! What the fuck is this?”

“What? I don’t understand the problem.”

“What? What?! What, it says. Talking squirrel saying it doesn’t understand the problem. Aha!”

I shouted at it with a pointed finger. I was surprised by my outburst, even the squirrel sort of leaned back and its eyes went wide when I pointed directly at it but I continued.

276

“I’m hallucinating. You’re not Bob, this isn’t real life. I’m stuck in my childhood dreams. I’m living out ‘The Secret Of Nimh’ and you’re Mrs Brisby. That’s the only explanation.”

“But I told you my name is Bob. ‘The Secret of NIMH’ I am familiar with that movie. ”

“Uh, god!” I said listening with half an ear and perhaps with just a quarter of my sanity. “I’m in a cartoon I loved as kid, mice and rats that walk and talk stealing electricity. Fuck is that why my electric bill is so high?”

I began to pace as my heart bounced all over my chest like it had during high school phys. ed or when I’d try to turn a double into a triple playing baseball as a boy during my brief stint in the Joe Fortuna Pop Warner league. Was it the stress followed by the excitement of winning a car that was causing my trip into the Twilight Zone?

“Well then you know you’re not hallucinating, I have the body of a squirrel. If this were your imagination I would be a rat or mouse.”

“Oh my god. It’s worse.”

“What?” asked Bob.

“I’m not hallucinating. I’m crazy.” I said shaking my head.

I was walking back and forth at a more furious pace, my hands out in front of me shaking like an old man with some kind of palsy. The squirrels head followed me back and forth like it was watching a tennis match as I did the ping pong ball routine.

“No, Seth you haven’t...”

“I’m having a psychotic break, like Anthony Perkins except I don’t want to be my mother and kill people, I want to talk to animals apparently. It’s all psychological, it always is, just ask any lunatic if

you can trust them to give an honest answer might not be the most coherent. It could be a lot worse there are crazy people who’d shit on these walls...”

“Seth!” Bob shouted.

277

I stopped pacing and ranting, my hallucination was now annoyed with me. I heard Hugh Laurie again with his diagnosis as I plunked down on the edge of my bed. My heart was thundering still but I figured once I was in the booby hatch they’d give me all the downers I need. I could see myself getting strapped down to a long gurney with fitted coarse white sheets and squeaky

wheels that would scream as they rolled me down an endless corridor that smelled like Pine Sol while pumping me full of lithium or Thorazine.

“They’re gonna say I got to caught up in my imagination. They’re gonna say Heather was right, that I’d gone too far and believed it all.”

“Seth,” the squirrel said as it jumped from the sill onto my bed. “I am real.”

“Are you saying I’m not crazy?”

“Well I’m not a mental health doctor, so I am only assuming the state of your mental well being.

All I am trying to tell you is I am real, and my friends need help.”

The squirrel was just a few inches from where I sat, although his eyes were as black as a dolls eyes Jason might have said in his Quint voice, I could sense something in them. I’m not sure how to describe it, maybe it was the squirrels mannerisms and how it spoke that helped settle me down some. Still I was leery, I slowly raised my hand with an index finger pointing at the squirrel.

In Philly, the squirrels were usually scrawny and dirty and likely to bite you and go running off on all fours, however this one stood on its hind quarters as my finger poked its furry belly which felt clunky and hard to the touch. I slowly pulled my hand back and sat it on my lap feeling unreality wash over me like a bucket of cold water. My arms were covered in goose bumps.

“What are you? Are you a robot?” I asked slowly tasting the lunacy of the words on my tongue which was bitter.

“Not exactly. I’m closer to that of an operating system. Let me show you something, look under this collar.”

I leaned over as its little paw lifted the red band on its neck. I saw metal beneath and caught a glimpse of a logo that looked like the letter L and for a moment I thought I had seen it before, I 278

forgot that for the time being though when I saw beside that a symbol for copyright and the numbers 2033. Was that a year?

“You’re from the future?”

“It would take too long for me to explain everything, and my time is short. I’ll tell you what I can but I must leave before the end of the hour.”

I nodded my head though what I heard was not making sense to me, I heard the words and I knew the words but they were becoming jumbled as I listened. I felt my stomach being to get jumbled as if I were about to vomit. I suddenly realized that’s what was about to happen and I made a dash to the bathroom with a hand over my mouth. I made it in time to the toilet and regurgitated for a few minutes trying to get the bitter taste of lunatic out of my mouth as the cold tiles of the floor killed my knees.

I felt my head clear a little as I wiped my mouth clean with a swath of toilet paper. I got off my knees as I flushed but stayed on the floor. I was leaning on the tub when the squirrels head leaned in from the hallway. And though its eyes were just black marbles, I could see sadness in them.

“Are you OK?”

“No,” I said not looking at Bob but the pipes under the sink in front of me. “I’m a little sick from meeting you is all.”

“I realize this is a bit frightening, and I wouldn’t have presented myself to you unless the situation was dire.”

“Uh-huh. Well thanks for the car. So was that you causing all those people to freak out at Target?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“How did you get the keys to fall and how did you knock out the power?”

“It wasn’t very hard but I don’t have the time to explain every precise detail.”

279

“Yeah, well you’re gonna have to tell me again what you want I’m still preprocessing all this. I mean, you’re a friggin robot, I can see that, and you like Don Bluth movies. I still trying to figure if you’re from the future or if you’re even from this planet.”

I could feel my stomach shudder again, but I had nothing left to vomit and would only rupture a spleen from dry heaves so I took a few deep breaths until my stomach subsided. My hands however were still twitchy, I laid them limply on my lap.

“My friends need help.”

“Your friends.” I said finally looking at Bob.

“Yes.”

“They need help?”

“Yes.” said Bob walking closer to me with a pleading tone.

“Uh-huh. So you’re a robot that has friends, that you care about. I guess you love and have emotions and shit too?”

“Love’s just a word. What matters is the connection the word implies.”

I felt my head nod before a realization hit me and I was filled with doubt and anger as I said:

“Wait a god damn minute, that’s from ‘The Matrix Revolution’!”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.” Bob said holding its paws up defensively.

I hung my head down as I felt like I was being played for a sap, by this robot who loved his friends and was a movie buff apparently. I didn’t know what to do. I could have chased it out, I mean it wasn’t a rabid animal or feral. But the idea felt useless, it had my number and could text me with its little paws. I felt still sick to my stomach and my legs felt like they were encased with pins and needles and as I said earlier I am curious by nature, so I asked Bob what it wanted.

280

“I need some pictures. Your boss, Thomas White, has documents in his safe that I need photographed.”

“Yeah, no I’m not doing that.” I said quicker than I had planned.

I felt bad right after I said so, I actually saw Bob’s shoulders sag when I said no, it was strange seeing a squirrel do that.

“But why?” Bob asked.

“Look, man, you said it yourself, it’s illegal, and I don’t want to end up somebodies bitch in prison, if that’s OK with you.”

“No one would know. And he’ll go to jail anyway for another reason regardless, but with out you the documents I need pictures of will be lost forever and so will my friends.”

“Thomas is going to jail? Why?”

When I asked Bob actually sighed, sounding exhausted though that would be ridiculous if Bob was a robot. For some reason hearing that sigh helped me ignore the shakes and feel a little more in control.

“For his own actions, nothing related to what I am asking you to do.”

“How did you know I could get access to his safe?”

Bob didn’t speak, his reaction was enough to tell me how he knew. Bob’s eyes dropped to the floor as if embarrassed.

“You heard over my cell.”

I was going to ask how, then I thought back to joking with Natalie about the microphone it came with and realized how Bob was able to listen to me as long as I had the phone on me, those mikes were on even if you weren’t on a call.

281

“Jesus fucking Christ, Bob.” I said rolling my head back on the tub.

“I’m sorry.” Bob pleaded.

“Ya know that’s fucked up.” I said picking up my head to look at Bob.

“My friends lives are in danger, I had too. Imagine if your friends were in trouble, or Natalie...”

“Hey, no, no. Don’t you go fuckin doin that, you gonna start in on me too with asking her out?”

“No, although I find it a high probability she would go out with you.”

“Well thank you, Mr fuckin lonely hearts. Were you listening in on her phone calls too?”

“No. But I heard how you got along during your lunch...”

“This isn’t helping your case, Bob. Wait, did you steal my boss’s phone and text Natalie so I’d run into her.”

“... from what I’ve observed I estimate she is afraid you’ll reject her. As often as you mention being friends with her, she will believe you want nothing more.”

“You did didn’t you.”

“Yes.”

“God damn it...mind your business Bob, right now!” I said with a sneer. “I’m sick and tired of people telling me what I should do or who I should go out with or where I should be working.”

“I was trying to be friend.”

“Yeah well, Bob your friendly god damn actions are either gonna land me in jail or a nut house, or at the very friggin least out of a job. I am not doing a god damn thing. I don’t care if you’re 282

actually a cloned raccoon from the 8th dimension here to help me win a dance contest. I’m not helping you, you can’t make me, you fuzz ball.”

Bob walked towards me and stood in front of me with his paws behind his back and I swear he looked sad, like on the verge of tears sad.

“No, I can’t force you to do it. I admit what I am asking could get you in trouble and if I could do it myself I would. I’ll tell you exactly what I need, and I’ll leave it up to you. I’ve done everything in my power to keep you out but time ran out for me sooner than I had planned.”

“You’re doing this just to save your friends? That’s it? Because you’re comin off like this is like end of the world stuff.”

I waited for Bob to say something like of course not or how his friends were in trouble again.

But he didn’t and that made me feel worse.

“I don’t have time to explain more than that, but it’s true what I am telling you.”

I felt my stomach turn like I was about to vomit again but I didn’t. I almost said yes right then and there. I could feel the word bubble up my throat and caress the back of my lips but I kept my mouth shut. I was still apprehensive, it didn’t feel like Bob wanted much and I could probably do it, but what if I got caught. I remained silent, after a moment Bob nodded.

“If you should change your mind, you have only until this coming Saturday.”

“Cutting it kind of close aren’t you?”

Bob ignored the comment and continued.

“The two documents I need photographed are actually pictures of land deeds. One dated 1904, the second dated 1954, you’ll know them as soon as you see them. Take as many pictures as you can closely with your phone and send them to my phone.”

“You can look at pictures with that Nokia?” I asked.

283

“No, the number to this phone is linked to an email address to receive multimedia messages.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

I felt numb, my whole body felt like it had been dipped in concrete. I could see myself doing it, maybe even getting away with it and then...then what? According to Bob, Thomas was going to jail regardless.

I didn’t feel bad when I thought about that, remembering what Natalie told me he had done to her. But did that warrant his going to jail?

I wondered if maybe I shouldn’t warn Thomas instead. He had been paying me a good wage just to crunch numbers and handle the phone sometimes, sure it was boring but not very hard work.

If Thomas went to jail he’d be out of business and I’d be back to doing temp work for six and a quarter an hour. My lips and body still numb and my mind still reeling I said the only words I could think to say.

“I’ll think about it.”

Bob sagged just the slightest bit but he nodded and gave me a smile.

“I have to go now.”

I stood up on rubber band legs but I was able to follow Bob back to the window to the tree, he hopped up easily to the sill. I opened the window a little more for him with fingers that were filled with needles. Bob re-shouldered his Nokia back pack and went down on all fours as he crawled on the branch, before heading into the deep layers of green leaves ahead he turned back towards me.

“Remember what I said.”

“I told you I’d think about it.”

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“I meant Natalie.” Bob said before scurrying off with lightening speed, disappearing into the summer heavy foliage.

I felt my stomach vibrate again as I stood watching the ground below for the squirrel, but I never saw Bob again. I felt a heaviness that following week that replaced the empty feeling I was

normally having. I tried not to think about Bob and succeeded until Wednesday when my new car arrived, the guys who brought it took my old one and got rid of it for me.

Everyone was impressed by my amazing luck. But I knew the truth behind it and I felt that bitter taste and the heavy feeling on my shoulders redouble. That night I had a bad dream about Bob. I was in a heavy forest and Bob was on a low hanging tree branch and was talking to a wizard standing just below the branch.

That was my first thought when I saw this guy, though he wore a normal blue ball cap, he was a tall old man with a walking stick as tall as him and his hair and beard were white and long putting me in mind of Ian McKellen from ‘The Lord Of The Rings’ movies. And though I made no sound they were both suddenly looking in my direction. Then there was a pop and I saw one of Bobs’ eyes explode before he was violently knocked off the branch.

I woke up covered in sweat feeling terrified, not just for Bob but, and this sounds lunatic, for the whole world. It was sunrise before I fell asleep again, but it was sleep filled with crazy dreams that were short but forgettable. I still didn’t want to take those pictures, and though Bob said I had until Saturday, I didn’t always work Saturdays and rarely two in a row. So I didn’t expect to have to work this Saturday since I had last week.

When Friday came I knew I’d never get the chance to go into Thomas’ office, I rarely did during the week. And with sales being at average I knew Thomas wouldn’t need me for anything tomorrow. My stomach felt like an unbalanced washing machine that whole day, and I didn’t actively stay out of his office, the opportunity simply never came. I felt a pathetic sort of relief when five o’clock was coming and I couldn’t even get downstairs for any reason let alone in the office safe.

I sat across from Natalie as the clock slowly ticked thinking that it was over. I kept replaying the horrific dream of Bob getting his eye blown out, there wasn’t any blood or gore but it chilled me none the less. Was I considering this creature a friend? I felt my stomach gurgle and bubble with acid as I remembered how sad Bob looked before he left.

“Thinking up a good story?” said Natalie.

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I was brought out of my dark daydream and greeted with her smiling face just across from me and I felt lighter than air all of a sudden.

“I should ask you out.” I said not very loudly still half stuck in my dream world.

“What?” she asked.

I shook my head as if I had broke the surface of a lake after a dangerously deep dive.

“I dunno, I said something like I should be but I get caught up with other things.”

“Oh, I thought you asked me something.”

I laughed and felt embarrassed, I felt my face go red and hot, I opened my mouth to speak. I didn’t know what I was going to say, but I was prevented from speaking. Thomas had suddenly appeared from the back holding a stack of papers.

“Can you guys work tomorrow? I found a whole fucking back log of sales that were supposed go out already.”

“I told you yesterday...” Natalie began.

“Yes, I fuckin know. Just, can youse guys fuckin help. Here, here.” he said pulling out cash from his wallet.

“Say Tommy, fork some of that green this way.” said one of the guys working the phones behind him.

“Shut the fuck up and follow your pitch,” he said over his shoulder. “here two hundred a piece for youse guys. Just fuckin be here early tomorrow, capisce?!”

I felt that heavy feeling reemerge as massive as I thought it could get. I didn’t feel like I was in control for a moment, like I was being pushed towards this event. Pushed towards it by a robotic squirrel that enjoys fantasy movies. It was all so outlandish I thought for sure I had lost my mind 286

at some point and I’d wake up at some mental hospital in Bucks County or at the Byberry in the city.

I went to bed that night far from tired, and with my mind racing a mile a minute. The world always seems like a screwed up place, whether you’re looking at the Middle East or right here in America there always seems to be something urgent coming over the horizon that could kill us

all. And there probably is a thousand things we do as humans all the time that could kill us all, some would say religion, other would say nuclear energy.

Me, I never thought about that kind of stuff. Not with a serious mind anyway, just when writing or dreaming up a story using such events as a backdrop. But this felt serious and real, and I wondered if me taking those pictures for Bob might not be something of that nature. I thought about the situation like I did when I came up with characters for my stories.

I thought about Bob’s actions, his words, everything. I kept trying to put him as the bad guy but it just wasn’t fitting for me. I don’t know for a fact if what Bob told me was the truth, it was so complicated though. Wouldn’t the bad guy just lie to get me to do what he wanted or force me in someway.

I don’t know what I am basing this feeling on but I wondered if maybe he wouldn’t or possibly couldn’t lie to me. Then I came back to the car, if Bob was a bad guy why would he go to such lengths to secure me a car and make it look as legit as possible? The only thing Bob did that was dishonest was stealing Thomas’ cell, but Thomas had it back that following Monday, grumbling about how he had found it behind a filing cabinet. A bad guy would’ve just tossed it and moved on.

I wondered if regardless of all the thousands of things we do all the time that can kill us, is it possible Bob wanted something, even if it’s a relatively small something, something that can do the opposite and save us all? Is that why Bob asked me to do this, or was that too lofty of an idea? I didn’t know, I knew Thomas was going to go to jail, though I don’t know why. I just knew I’d be out of a job no matter what I did.

I had spent the night tossing and turning about with my analytical mind going over all the evidence. Bob being the bad guy just didn’t jibe with me. I felt confident enough that he was being as honest as he could. Christ, I thought, at some point in time Bob became a he not an it, I don’t think somebody with ill intent could have made me do that.

I fell asleep with that thought in my head, and woke to my alarm hours later, though it felt like only minutes had passed. The shower I took and my nice new ride did nothing to help me forget that what I had to do. I forgot for a moment when I walked into work and I saw Natalie at her 287

desk, smiling at me. I saw she had some sleep still left in her eyes and I wondered how she looked while she slept.

I felt that heavy feeling melt away for brief moment. I was in and out of Thomas’ office a lot that day, it was late in the morning when I had gone in and he had left the door to his safe wide open.

I stared at it for a moment my eyes locked on its muddy brown colored door which obscured my view inside. I nearly had a heart attack when Thomas came into his office.

And though I was more than a dozen feet away I jumped nervously when he entered though he didn’t notice. I watched him come in writing furiously on a notebook with a pen as he chewed on its cap and began scanning the surface of his desk. He looked up from his blotter and looked at me sharply as he took the cap from his mouth. I felt my stomach shake like it sat on a fault line.

“Seth, get in that filing cabinet and give me all the folders and receipts and shit in the top drawer.”

I felt my body shudder as I walked to the corner where the filing cabinet stood, passing by the open safe but feeling too afraid to even steal a glimpse. My arms felt like Jello as I removed an armful of folders. I could feel my flip phone in my pocket, it felt like I had a big flat rock in my pocket. My arms had the shakes and wanted to spill the folders and papers on the floor but I placed them on his desk without dropping anything.

I normally would have done what I needed for him and left, but my feet were froze to the ground. I knew I had the ability to just walk out but I didn’t. Thomas was bent over his desk going through a couple of folders removing papers writing something down on one and then writing in his notebook again, he took the pen cap from his pocket almost put it in his mouth but instead put it back on the pen. I knew if I stood there doing nothing too long he’d snap, he didn’t like employees standing around.

His head snapped up eying me closely as he put the pen behind his ear, I felt my heart seize knowing he was gonna give me some harsh rebuke. He was in a mood today, but he just looked at me and said:

“I’m fuckin hungry. I think I’m gonna order some hoagies from that dick head across the street.

All fuckin week I’ve been dying for that chicken salad sandwiches they got. Do I have cash on me? What the fuck.”

He left the office searching his pockets asking Natalie something as he went. It was then that my hand went into my pants pocket and quickly took out my cell. I walked to the open safe while 288

looking back at the office door and almost knocked out some teeth as I nearly went face first into its jutting titanium handle. I gasped when I heard a shout from Thomas, while peering inside the twelve inch depth that looked much deeper.

The safe was mostly empty, there was only a quarter inch stack of papers and a single thick stack of hundred dollar bills sitting behind that, I didn’t touch the cash and pulled out the stack of papers. It was after the first two sheets when I found the first picture. It was a colored 8x10

photograph of a land deed with the date January 7th 1904 written in a fancy script on the title which looked yellow with age, below that was a second photograph of the other deed that looked old but not as yellowed with age as the first one. At its bottom was another date, January 7th 1954 written in a similar type of fancy script.

I heard Thomas shout and I gasped loudly because I was fairly certain he was shouting my name.

With machine like speed I set both deeds side by side. My fingers were sweaty and my hand were shaking so bad I almost dropped my phone.

“Seth!”

“Shit.” I half whispered and half gasped.

I tried to steady my hand and take the pictures. One wide view and two close ups for each was the plan I immediately came up with. I took a full picture of both first, but they came out blurry from my shaking hand.

I heard a shout again and my one hand immediately gripped the wrist of the other hand to steady it. I held my breath and took as many pictures as I could, getting in as many close ups as possible of both photos as I heard Thomas again and my heart started kick boxing the inside of my rib cage. I didn’t look at the pictures I took, I just clicked away as fast as I could and as steadily as I could.

When Thomas came back in he saw only me standing ten or twelve feet away from the safe punching buttons. To him I might of been texting though the screen showed a progress bar which had filled up and said in bold font: MESSAGES SENT

“What are you doin?” Thomas asked roughly though I couldn’t tell if he was suspicious of me since he was always talked that way.

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“I was lookin for the number to the place you said you like, with the chicken salad.” I said innocently.

“No fuck them they take too long to deliver. Nat’s gonna go over and pick it up, come on motha fucka I’m buyin.”

I felt the biggest relief I think I had ever felt in my life at that point. I don’t know if it was because I didn’t get caught or because I really felt good helping Bob. I know it might sound silly but I felt like I had helped a friend.

Or was I just telling myself that so I’d feel better about doing something behind Thomas’ back?

When I thought about him grabbing Natalie, I felt vindicated. Then I felt a little pathetic as well, I mean Natalie wasn’t my girlfriend. Was it right for me to justify my actions because...but I didn’t want to say it.

“You have a crush on her.” I said to myself while Natalie was getting lunch.

I told myself no I didn’t, then she returned and smiled at me so brightly I thought my heart would break. Maybe asking her out wouldn’t be so crazy. If I just act cool about it when she says no, would that really hurt our friendship?

Just go up and say; ‘Hey Nat, you wanna have dinner some night or catch that new Will Ferrel movie? No? Okay, that’s cool. So what’s new with you?’

It sounded normal enough in my own mind, lame but normal but if what Bob said was true they wouldn’t be working together soon. I sighed a little wishing I had asked Bob how long I had before Thomas went to jail. Shit, what if it was today, the thought filled me with sudden alarm that I might not see her again after today.

“Natalie!” I said sitting across from her though I said it quite loud.

She looked up at me startled I felt ridiculous and felt myself looking so stupid.

“I uh...I needed to ask you about a thing, it’s just ah uh er a thing, not an important thing, I was gonna ask about, just a quick silly thing, a question thing I think if you will...just a..uh some...thing...”

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“Seth!” shouted Thomas from nearby.

Oh, thank Christ I thought hearing Thomas shout, if I had said thing one more time she might have thought I was sexually harassing her. I felt every um, er, and uh I uttered at her as my self esteem sunk to new historic lows, but I was saved from complete embarrassment by Thomas’

mood swing.

“I’ll um I’ll...later” I said with a phony smile and a nod.

“Okay.” she said.

By three Thomas was getting ready to lock up and I was already at my car. I didn’t approach Natalie again, after I gave her my Stuttering John impression I didn’t plan on asking her or any woman out ever again and would use this scenario to remind myself to just stop. I felt so down about my failure as I stood beside my car looking through my keys I thought I was imagining Natalie’s voice.

“Seth.”

I turned away from my car and saw her standing so close I could see every freckle on her face clearly and I felt my heart skipping beats. Her smile was a lovely as a Spring morning and I wanted to feel her lips on mine. My own lips were paper dry and felt like they were glued shut. I still was able to smile and felt better seeing her walk closer to me, she smelled of lilac.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Really?”

I said it dumbfounded. I thought I wanted to ask you something, my mind said. I almost said it aloud, but I just stepped from my car to hear her better.

“You need a ride?” I asked hoping that was what she was going to ask me.

“No. I wanted to ask if I could read some of your stuff?”

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“My stuff?” I asked sincerely confused for a moment.

“Yeah, ya know. Your stories and novels.”

“My stories.”

I could almost sense Jason and Bob face palming at my words and confusion, I guess for Bob it would be face pawing.

“I mean I’d pay you of course.”

It was then that I woke up.

“Pay me? Aw no, hell no. No charge for a friend.” I said simply and she smiled brighter than ever.

“Well that’s really sweet of you Seth, but I know it costs money to type stuff out. I’m no dummy, I know it’s part of the job.”

“Yeah, but you’ve done plenty for me. I don’t sweat that stuff when it comes to my craft, plus I use a laptop to do all my writing. I only ever have to pay for printing when I mail stuff out to publishers. No luck so far.”

“Well I’m sure it’s their loss. And I do a lot of reading on my laptop, you could always e-mail me your stuff.”

“Yeah, that’ll be easier.” I said.

A warm breeze blew as Thomas left and said good bye to us. The afternoon was warm, a big coupe de ville with a paint job as bright and blue as the sky, drove down Passyunk avenue at a moderate speed before parking nearby playing music at a deafening level.

‘Well we know, I’m going away

And how I wish, I wish it weren’t so’

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“Well I’ll see you Monday.” Natalie said pushing a hair behind her ear with an easy smile.

My mouth barely opened and I could hardly croak a word out. I could see Bob and Jason doing the face palming thing again. I felt puny and weak, I just wanted to go up to her and say it all out and save all the bullshit for the kids because I knew Natalie was a grown up and I had to show myself I was too.

If Thomas was going to jail then this place would close and there was a good chance I realized I might never see Natalie again, without a second thought I went to her. I heard the music again as I crossed Passyunk ave towards Natalie as she stood beside her car while she looked in her purse.

‘Save tonight and fight the break of dawn

I’ll fight for her if I have too, if she’ll let me be me, I’ll fight for her.

Come tomorrow, tomorrow I’ll be gone’

I stood behind her not real close I had already come off as a weirdo once today, I was about to say her name when she turned around and saw me. Her easy smile returned filling me with confidence.

“Natalie,” I said “I wanted to ask you about something.”

“OK.” she said.

“When I told you that I don’t date anymore, it’s only because...” I wanted to be clear and say it right. “what I mean is...if I did date someone again...they’d have to understand...I’m not gonna change, this is who I am.”

“I’ll never ask you to change.”

“Oh, thank God.” I said patting my chest as if I had run a race.

“Were you relieved to hear me to say that?” Natalie said laughing.

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“I’m just relieved you knew it was you I was talking about.” I said making Natalie laugh even harder.

“Well you know, there’s no rush. We can do whatever we want whenever we want. Like...”

“Like dancing with Louie Raggitelli?”

Her eyes grew big in shock as she balled her hand into a fist.

“How’d you remember that?” she asked giving my shoulder a light punch.

“A writer never forgets. Did you know I was crushing on you for a while?”

She smiled her lovely smile and looked at me with her hazel eyes that had a diamonds sparkle in the afternoon sun.

“I wasn’t really sure until the other day at the burger place. When I saw how angry you got about Thomas I just I knew, and I wanted to ask you out.”

“You wanted to ask me out?” I said trying not to show my surprise, though I was shocked to hear that.

“Well, yeah. I thought I was being silly and you were just being a gentleman and we’ve been friends for so long I didn’t want to ruin that.”

“My God,” I said with a laugh. “that’s why I was afraid to ask you out. I thought I was being dumb thinking you liked me that way.”

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.” she said making me fall in love with her a little.

“Yeah, my friends says that all the time.”

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“Hey that reminds me I always wanted to ask you something. Why does Jason call you by your last name?”

“Oh, I have the same last name as a character in Jaws, his favorite movie.”

“Which one?”

“Richard Dreyfuss.”

She nodded her head unsure.

“The writer guy from ‘Stand By Me.’”

“Oh, I like him. Did you ever see that movie he was in with Bill Murray, I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants.”

“Yeah, ‘What About, Bob.’” I said feeling weird all of a sudden.

Was that a coincidence? Was this all a ruse in my mind, was I fooling myself? Was I having delusions of grandeur and Bob? But I knew I was being too hard on myself, doubting myself again.

I can’t keep doubting myself, I’ll leave that to others. Not everything was perfect but things were pretty good overall, I knew that empty void I kept feeling would be no more. I came out of my self questions and saw her standing close to me looking so beautiful.

“Sorry, I was daydreaming.”

“It’s cool. Let me give you something to daydream about.”

She stepped close to me and gave me a soft kiss on the lips as she slipped her arms around my neck, I felt the electricity coarse through me like charge. Such a charge that I even dipped her a little before we parted lips. I smiled at her, never feeling better than I had so far in my life.

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The next few days were uneventful, what ever was coming for Thomas hadn’t happened yet.

Natalie and I were going nice and slow, and by the way she loved my stories, that was important to me the most. I know that sounds weird, like I should want my parents to like her or I should hope I get along with her friends, but those things didn’t worry me.

I kept an eye on the want ads and didn’t let Natalie know what was coming since it might not happen for many years. I hadn’t received any texts from Bob, whenever I heard Pierre say sports up on my cell I’d find myself hoping it was another cryptic message from Bob but no such luck.

There was one thing though that I had almost forgotten about, and that was the pictures I took for Bob. I sent the pictures to my email as well and printed them out on my computer to get a better view of them. There really wasn’t much to the documents, just some coordinates a few lines saying here be thee be and all kinds of old English phrases. But one thing I didn’t see was a signature, no names just a fancy long hand letter L at the bottom as well as three other letters, AML on both documents.

I didn’t know much about deeds or titles of ownerships so I figured I’d visit the Central library downtown some afternoon and try and research this document maybe look for a copy of it in some old archives, follow the coordinates if necessary. I’d left it in the car and had got caught up in other stuff and forgot about until a few days later, when Jason needed a ride to work while

‘The Orca’ was in the shop. I found an open spot on Colorado street just a few dozen feet from his house. I came to his front door and gave a swift knock.

“Come in!” said Jason from inside.

As I was about to open the door, someone from the other side opened it and stepped out onto the porch. It was a blond woman whose hair was damp and although it was late morning, she was wearing evening clothes, she looked familiar too me though I wasn’t sure how I knew her. She smiled at me and gave me a hello.

“Morning.” I said smiling back.

Her face was glowing and her eyes looked sort of dreamy and far away. She got into a car parked a few feet away and put on glasses while checking her mirrors with a smile. As I stepped into his living room I saw Jason wearing only cargo shorts and a towel around his bare neck trying to keep it dry from his soaking wet hair.

“Please tell me you just got out of the shower and not about to get in.”

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“Just getting out, Nina and I went a couple extra rounds this morning and we....”

“Yes, yes, thank you for the update. Nina...the lady from Target?”

Jason smiled then nodded as he went to the fridge and took out a can of Red Bull.

“Yes, though you can call her the graphic design lady. I got her a job for Pixeldelphia to work on the stores website.”

“You’re kidding? But what happens when you meet another Target lady or any lady that you haven’t fornicated with.”

“That’s just it man, I think she’s the one. We talked last night instead of screwing, I mean we did screw, a lot, but we talked too. I was even able to tell her about how I cried when Aerith died, I was open, dude.”

“What did she say when you told her that?” I asked intrigued.

He went into one of his many cargo pockets and pulled out a Polaroid of a woman dressed as Aerith. I took the pic and immediately could recognize Nina wearing those glasses dressed as the Final Fantasy heroin.

“She’s into Jean Michel Basquiat and does cosplay, not as an actor but for fun, Hooper.”

“Wow, man that’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, you never know what you’ll find at Target. You got a car and I found the coolest girl on the planet, and she keeps beating me on death match in Golden Eye. Something about that turns me on and I don’t know why?” he said with a befuddled look that was mostly serene.

“Come on, man, you’re gonna be late.” I said laughing

We were driving south on Oregon avenue when Jason came across the pictures that were sitting on the dash.

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“What are these?” he said looking at the top one.

“Oh, uh just some legal paper stuff I’m writing about.”

“Looks like a de cachet.”

“A what?”

“It’s a legal term used for this kind of deed. It’s what we lawyers call an unbreakable title of ownership.”

“What we lawyers? I’m not a lawyer and I’m pretty sure you’re not either.”

“I am so.”

“You...” I stopped to look him in the eyes but he was serious. “...you never went to school. You have to go to college to be a lawyer.”

“And I did, mofo. Boo-bam!” he said pulling a mocha colored card from his wallet.

I took the card and read it aloud while sitting at a red light.

“The Pittsburg Pennyslvania online college of technology? What is that up in the corner?”

“The school mascot, it’s a sea cucumber”

“It looks like a pink furry dildo, and dude, I’m pretty sure they misspelled Pittsburgh.”

“PP Tech,” said Jason in a huff. “is where yesterdays leaders go to achieve their dreams at some point.

“What?”

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“It’s the school slogan, it’s on the other side of the card.”

I flipped the card over and lo and be hold in big bold italicized letters typed with the same smudgy black ink 'Where Yesterdays Leaders Go To Achieve Their Dreams At Some Point.’ I handed the card back almost sorry to have discovered that such a school exists.

“So you became a lawyer through PP Tech? I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

“I got a Masters in real estate law including a doctoral postsecondary in gynecological studies. If you need help with picking a good OBGYN or figuring out land laws I’m your guy.”

“OK, what are these? I mean I can see they’re deeds but what makes them special, like that word you used...”

“De cachet.”

“Yeah, what does that mean.”

“Nothing special, it’s just a legal term the French coined that means permanent legal ownership.

It’s not like an ordinary deed or land title that the average guy would get.”

“Who would get a de cachet?”

“Rich people, I mean like super rich people. Bill Gates or Warren Buffet rich, a super big celebrity like Michael Jackson, they get this and basically even if they lose everything and go dirt broke, this piece of land will always be theirs and not even the IRS can take it.”

“Oh, so why would someone want it?”

“The land?”

“No the deed, that paper their. Could somebody maybe steal it and say hey this belongs to me.”

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“No, that would be like me stealing your drivers license and trying to pass it off as my own when I get pulled over by the cops.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, because the letters on this document signify who the specific person or family that owns the land on these coordinates but wants to keep it on the down low, it’s like a secret signature.”

“So there’s no benefit to stealing something like this, it’s a waste.” I said feeling relieved.

“Well not necessarily, if papers like these get stolen, it’s for one reason only.”

“And that reason...” I asked feeling my heart skip a beat.

“Forgery. If you could make up duplicates you might be able change the letters or the date on it, try and challenge its legality or maybe to swindle some serious money from whoever might own it, I mean whoever really owns the land.”

“Yeah.” I said feeling my heart race.

“This is research for one of your sci fi stories?” Jason asked.

“Yeah, uh well it’s about...uh...land barons from Mars.”

“Write one about nympho’s from Venus instead. You talk about land and politics and shit you’ll lose the audience. Don’t forget about ‘Phantom Menace’... ”

“Yeah, I know I know ‘never get involved in a land war on Tatooine.’”

I played off my worry as best I could. I was sitting at my writing desk that night trying to forget I’d be out of a job soon, and Natalie too. And meanwhile I might have been played for a sap, for an amount of money that was beyond estimation. It all made sense to me now, Bob was a robot controlled by some hacker working for the mob, maybe even the Letuzzi crime family.

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Maybe Thomas owed them money but they couldn’t get him to pay, so they sucker one of his employees to defraud him and play it off as some kind of great act of contrition or something

like that. That car was just peanuts compared to whatever priceless land he just stole from under Thomas’ nose. I felt frustration fill me again.

I took out my cell flipped it open and fired off a quick text to Bob.

‘so do you have time to explain it all

now

or do you just wanna call me a sucker

instead?’

But after I sent the message it returned a moment later as undeliverable. I closed my phone and laid it on the desk feeling like the worlds biggest moron, I had a quick flashback of my Dr House dream and simply laid my head down on my desk.

“You’ve got, mail!” my computer chirped happily.

I picked up my head and when I saw the email I was confused. It didn’t show on the header who it was from, that area was blank. The subject contained only one word, friend. It could have been spam, but as long as nothing was trying to download on its own I’d risk it because I had this feeling it was from Bob. I held my breath and clicked my mouse.

Seth,

What you did has saved many and there will people thanking their respective gods for many years, that you succeeded. I wanted to thank you, and to let you know what will happen to Thomas will be soon, much sooner than you’ll like. I can’t tell you anything more, not to be cruel or out of mistrust but for cautionary reasons. There is one other thing I can tell you though only very little about it. Sometime soon I don’t know when, this phone number (267-771-7874) will contact you, I think you should take the call. Thank you again.

Your friend, Bob.

I tried immediately to send a reply, but like the text on my cell it returned as undeliverable.I was more pissed than ever now. Especially because I had more questions, sooner than I’d like, and who was this 267 number than could call me sometime soon. I felt angry but soon it evaporated, even if Bob did tell me specifically when Thomas was going down and who was gonna call me, how many other questions would I have?

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I began to wonder if Bob wasn’t maybe right to keep me ignorant. What if Bob was a machine from the future trying to keep me from running into my future grand kids dad or some crazy shit

like that. Hell in ‘Back To The Future’ Marty almost wiped out his entire existence in just one day of dumb assing his way around town in the 1950s.

It was the last week in August when Thomas got arrested. Natalie and I had arrived to work together that morning to the front doors locked. Thomas was always at the office hours before we where so it was a surprise finding them that way.

“Where the hell could he be?” Natalie said.

I didn’t answer but I already knew, Natalie called Thomas and had confirmed it a moment later.

He was arrested for the same charges that the DA failed to get him on years before. Whatever evidence they had before was now suddenly good enough to charge him. I didn’t feel as bad for him as I thought I would, I felt bad never telling Natalie but how could I have explained it with out sounding like a mental patient.

I just prepared a resume and hoped I could find a real job before I’d have too go back to temping. Natalie found a new job not long later doing data entry for a heart doctor downtown. I had money saved and if I really was desperate for a job Jason had on numerous occasions offered me a position at Pixeldelphia but the thought of getting back into customer service made me want to puke. I got over that and went back to cashiering and temp work.

My writing hadn’t stopped, and Natalie made a great editor. I had a journalism professor who said that writers are the worst spellers, and I think he was right. I had been writing like a hurricane that whole time feeling like my fingers were on fire and I had to keep typing or my whole body would catch. I’d get so deep into it my cell would ring and I’d never hear it going off. I was in the middle of my own proof reading when I noticed my cell was blinking indicating a voice mail.

I laughed realizing how deep in the zone I was until I looked at my cell. The laughter died on my lips as I looked upon the little front screen that showed the number that left the message. I only read Bob’s email once but the phone number was etched permanently onto my brain. And I had missed the call, Bob said I might want to take the call.

I felt like I had swallowed a bucket of ice cubes that were resting at the bottom of my stomach like a weight. Who called me, The FBI, the Police, the State Police? Christ what if it was the CIA,did they know about Bob, they probably knew everything? Hell it could be the men in black coming to take me away, ho-ho hee-hee ha-haa, oh dear god I hate that song, and now it had gotten stuck in my head.

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“Stop it, stop it. You’re too paranoid.”

I took a breath and checked my voice mail, perhaps it was the police but they needed me to make a statement or something regarding Thomas who was going to trial in January. That was the worst I could imagine this turning into. I punched in my code and heard the robotic but eerily female sounding voice speaking in monotone.

“You have one NEW voice message; first voice message: Hello, this message is for Seth Hooper.”

The voice was of a woman, so warm and confident sounding I thought maybe it was a lawyer, Thomas’ perhaps asking for a character witness. Shit I hope not, I don’t think I could have done that in good conscience. The message continued.

“My name is Carolyn Colbert with Perfection Publication,”

Perfection Publication? I wasn’t familiar with that outfit. I had sent some stuff out but it was all for articles for software reviews for some online magazines. I hadn’t sent out any short stories in a while and I hadn’t sent any of my novels to a publisher or literary agency in more than a year.

“Your agent Robert Brisby forwarded me by email your novel, Star Breaker, now we don’t normally accept emailed manuscripts but your agent was very persuasive and I must say what I have read so far it is fantastic. I’m only halfway through and I have to tell you I am absolutely terrified by the suspense and claustrophobia of being stuck on a space ship. I’d like you to call me back as soon as you receive this message and I look forward to hearing from you.”

The message concluded with her giving me her contact info and best times to call her. I felt so numb I was afraid I’d fall off my chair if I moved. After a few minutes of deep breaths I went online and looked up Perfection Publication, thinking it was a made up publishing house and I was being played. But it was a real publisher, they specialized in fantasy and sci fi space operas.

I even found a picture of Ms Colbert and a team of other big wigs and the dozen or so writers they published. I also searched for literary agents names Robert Brisby and of course I found no one by that name. Apparently all it took was a phone call and an email to get the ball rolling on my professional writing career, I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or cry about that.

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I called and well the rest is history I guess you could say. I made it to the big time, maybe not as big as Stephen King or Ray Bradbury but more than good enough for a guy from South Philly.

As the years passed Bob became some half asleep daydream from a lonelier time, while the world seemed to be getting along OK until 2016.

And if you’re an American you understand what I mean. But if you looked closely you saw something different. On the surface things looked one way, but a closer look showed cracks in the foundation.

Americans hurting and hating each other. Everything sounding mean and hateful almost ever where you look, for every good thing someone does there always seemed to be somebody or some kind of anti force fighting against them, explaining how they are actually bad. The presidents war on journalism, everybody pretending to know better than everyone else and trying to talk over someone when facts aren’t on their side.

Arguments not won by truth but by ridiculing and calling strange, new ideas unAmerican. The evils of ignorance and intolerance seemed to be everywhere, growing like cancer in the body eating anything civil and good, when that poor young woman Heather Heyer was run down by a Nazi I felt that empty feeling return. Natalie and I are married now and she knows me better than anybody else, whenever I’m feeling down she knows it and always tries to cheer me up.

“This country is getting so fucked up. One bad guy and make a lot of people act so horrible.” I said somberly in bed one night.

“He’s like a reverse Jesus.”

She said which sent me into gales of laughter which made me want to make love to her, which I did. Later as we snuggled safe and naked under the covers holding each other she gave me a suggestion.

“Write a story about the opposite of him.”

“What a story about Jesus?” I asked in teasing tone of voice.

“No, silly.” she said giving my nipple a slight squeeze that aroused me. “I mean a story about someone who is honest and would do anything for their loved ones. Someone kind and wonderful.”

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“Oh, you mean an autobiography. That’s a bit soon don’t you think, I didn’t get my Pulitzer yet.”

I said still teasing.

She growled though it was through a smile as she pushed me onto my back and got on top of me.

“I’m serious.” she said looking both lovely and wild in the blue light of our TV.

“Serious enough to ride me like a good cowgirl.” I said fondling her splayed breasts with greedy hands.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I woke up the next morning and showered thinking of what Natalie told me, I wanted to write something like that but I didn’t think it was possible. It seemed too ridiculous of a story to be believable, at least with the current state of things as they are in this country. I came downstairs to

Natalie sitting in the kitchen sipping a cup of coffee while see scanned FaceBook on her tablet. I didn’t have much social media knowledge, My publishing house hired someone take care of that stuff for me, and I was only vaguely familiar with meme’s so when I saw the squirrel meme on her page I was floored.

“Who’s that?” I said in a high voice.

Natalie looked up at me wide eyed and then down at the tablet.

“My cousin forwarded it to me, you remember Cheryl and her husband Alex, she thought it was a cute picture.”

“No,” I said feeling like I was close to a heart attack. “the squirrel. The animal in the picture, who is that what’s his name.”

“I think it’s just a squirrel, love. Seth, are you OK? You’re white as a ghost.” she got up from the chair and looked at me and I felt my worries vanish.

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“Yeah, yeah.” I said chuckling a little at myself. “I just woke up and I’m still a little foggy from sleep.”

She looked at me and her face softened with eyes that still had some sleep in them. I felt myself falling in love with her all over again.

“I’ll make us some bacon.” she said before giving me a kiss.

“Yummy.”

When she went to the fridge to pick out the meat I took a quick closer look at the meme. If you’re not familiar with it there are few different types of this meme. The one before me I could tell immediately wasn’t Bob, the animal was too small to fit in the little cockpit of the World War 2 era fighter jet that it sat in,the little flight outfit it was wearing was cute by the way.

Directly below the squirrel was the caption: ‘You swerve to avoid a squirrel. Unknown to you, the squirrel pledges a life debt to you. In your darkest hour, the squirrel arrives.’

The meme stirred something inside me, and I realized everything I had was because of my friend, Bob, so I wrote this story. I mean what I went through was what you would probably call first world problems and it wasn’t my darkest hour, a bad week at worst maybe. But I had saved Bob and he

pledge a debt to me. I don’t know if I can I call it a life debt, but while I’ve been writing this all down I’ve become more and more convinced that maybe it was a life debt, but not for me but for the world.

I did another search online about Bob before I started this story, that L below his neck looked familiar to me, over time I had convinced myself I didn’t really know what it was. Whenever I’d try and think of that funny looking L I kept seeing trains. The old steam locomotives, though I wasn’t sure why until I Google’d ‘logo’s featuring the letter L.’ The L looked like a check mark turned sideways. When that same exact letter showed up as one of the top results I felt my heart drop to my stomach, I really didn’t expect to find anything.

That L was the same exact logo used by the Lionel Corporation, who used to make toy’s specifically trains and other electric toys. They had even made toy robots back in the 1950s I saw and felt a chill race down my spine but after further searching I found out they had stopped doing electronics back in 1993. I felt my stomach going tipsy again, so I started writing.

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I know it might seem silly, but it felt right to me, I’m not saying I saved the world, I don’t think.

I don’t know if the world is really in great danger. I mean it sort of is currently depending on

what side of the aisle you sit on, but I wonder if Bob did succeed in whatever his mission was.

All the hate and anger seems bigger and deadlier than it has been in over a generation though I can only speak for my own generation.

I watch the news and sometimes wonder if maybe he did fail, I think about the horrific dream I had of Bob getting his eye blown out convinced he did fail, but there is an old saying about situations like that. ‘It’s always darkest before the dawn.’ I hope Bob is OK, and I hope where ever he went he saves the day for his friends the way he did for me. All I can do is hope, as long as I have Natalie by my side that won’t be so hard to do.

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the author was born and raised in South Philadelphia, as if you couldn’t guess.