Thursday, January 26, 2012
32. Best Friends
"Tell me again about these guys."
Jamaica’s voice was soft, like a small sharp needle pushed ever-so-gently into the neck. He’d explained it before.
Outside he could hear the increasing pitch of a 767 engine as it went airborne. He patted down his cargo shorts until he found the Maalox pills. The crinkle of the plastic wrap was reassuring. He popped one.
"They're my best friends," he said.
"I thought Travis and Pete were your best friends."
He squinted water from his eyes and gagged a little on the Maalox. She was looking at him so he shook his head. "Nope." He burped softly. "Not even close."
"If these guys, neither of whom I have ever met, are your best friends, why you so nervous?"
He snapped his head sideways and peered back. It was Gerry. What were the odds of that? His flight must have come in early.
I am back from hospital from a near death experience. The doctors have rightly decided I am not quite a perfect asshole and have cauterized that appendage. It has been sort of death all around me and my cross-addictions made it pretty bad...This age of politcal correctness/friggin' medical cruelty.
I am now at home and know for sure I will need at least 24 hours to get all my bad habits up. :)
Take care all, especially Eric Mercer, former band member and great Newifie in my books or anybody elses.