De_Le_Chozo
Smash Apprentice
Two Blocks Down
“Showers. Who needs them anyway? We always get some mud, or some rain, or some beer back on us. Dirty is something you can never get out of the human body. Or the mind for that matter. What’s the point?
“Aaaah, but then again, there’s always that moment of clean, where you’re in the shower, rain’s just pouring over you, a waterfall. You know, sometimes I’ll just stand there, hands hanging next to my thighs, eyes on my feet, just let the water hit my neck, just eat me. You know?”
Samantha Graham chewed her Slim Jim shot a glance at her rearview mirror. Her passenger didn’t say much, was there really someone in the back? Sam always figured, if you could make small talk, then you really earned your taxi license from Flaming Cans, Incorp. By the looks of it, she wasn’t doing very well.
When Sam took a glance at her mirror, she didn’t see much. Just some guy, staring out the window, watching the streetlights go by, one after another. But then, this guy, this stranger, reached into his left pocket. He didn’t do it very gracefully, though, seeing as how his glasses nearly fell off, and his object seemed buried in his pants.
To see what all the commotion was for, Sam shot another glance at her rearview mirror
“Hey you, those better not be cigarettes you’re taking out. These Flaming Cans may have ashtrays, but those ashtrays are trashcans in my flaming can.”
Even though she was new to this, Sam wanted to claim the taxi as her baby, her treasure. She already even gave it a name too – Streak, to remind Sam of her glorious days in high school.
The stranger did nothing but flash a clumsy grin, as if to apologize. Would Sam have to strip in order to get this guy to talk? Not on the first ride, at least. She would have to buy herself some more time.
Part of Sam’s training was learning where all the red lights were in Chicago. After all. According to Mister Dukmann, “Red equals green!” and then the chubby man rubbed his fingers and his thumb together, making a devilish smile.
So when Sam stopped at a red light, she turned her head and got a good look at this guy. He had a name tag on him labeled GAME KINGDOM and then DREW, all in rainbow colors. The GAME KINGDOM was embedded in a cartoon castle, and DREW was embedded in the moat. From there, Sam looked up. The face of this “Drew” seemed labored, his left hand reaching in his pocket, his right hand laying limp.
“So Drew,” Sam said, “Is it okay if I ask you, where are you going again? It’s my first day here, and I didn’t exactly hear your voice the first time.” Maybe Drew would talk this time.
Drew opened his mouth –success!– and he said, “Your light’s green.”
At that point, the SUV behind Sam started honking at her like a mongoose in heat.
----
It was always hot in the Drinking Jimmy, where the only thing to keep you cool was the Budweiser. The bar’s owner, Jean Teupman, was willing to sell only Budweisers, anyways. The advertisements with the frogs reciting, “Bud,” “Weis,” and most of all, that eloquent “er” hit Jean as a child, and she obsessed over frogs and beer ever since. “Jimmy” was the name of the mascot, the neon frog that caught the neon beer with its neon tongue. Jean thought of him as a cash frog, a cash frog that had to be milked for all its worth. Only one other person shared that thought.
That person was Manny Lopez, sitting at the bar, tapping his foot as quick as a hummingbird.
“Have you seen Drew?” he said, “We have a system. Every Friday, at the Jimmy. I order a Budweiser, he orders a fruit punch. What’s up? We have a system. I’ll ask him later. We’re roommates, it’s not like you only ever see your drinking buddy at the bar. I’ll have to ask him when I see him again, and he’ll have to go all guilty, hat in his hands, eyes on the ground. We have a system, doesn’t that mean anything?”
Jean said nothing. She simply nodded her head and petted her pet frog named Jimmy. Because that’s what a good barkeep does, she keeps the customer talking and pets her pet frog. Because that’s how you keep a customer.
So Jean lets them rant and ramble until they feel empty of words, of complaints, and then Jean fills them up with Budweiser. Because listening is only part of being a good barkeep. Selling was the other.
“Hey you know what you need?” Jean said.
Manny let the glass sit in front of him. He stared at the froth on the top, then he put his head to the bar and asked, “My damn brother, he’s outside the system. He bootlegs all sorts of crap. Looking for the original reel of Casablanca? He’ll give you as many original reels as you want. He even claims he made a universal arcade token that grants “Free Play,” calls it his golden coin or something. . .”
Then Manny lifted his head up and asked, “You seen Drew? Ever since he got that job at Game Kingdom I’ve been seeing him less.”
“When’d you usually see him?”
“He worked at the Blockbuster next to my Walgreens. His boss fired him when he got caught swiping that Transformers movie, you know, the classic one with the rock song by Lion or Tiger or whatever? Drew had this bet with this kid - claimed he owned the original. The thing was, blockbuster had one of the first editions, but it was ninety bucks! Too bad though, Drew got me some nice discounts over there. . .
“We’re roommates, now, but our hours never coincide. God always has a way of smiting you over. . .”
“Well, I’m sure he’ll come. It’s only . . .” Jean shot a glance at the Budweiser merchandise clock and said, “ten forty or so.”
“Early in a place like this.”
---
“er, I’m not making you late, am I?”
Samantha Graham took a look at her clock: ten fifty two, and then she looked at her rearview mirror. She’d tried to get Drew to talk five times after the red light with zero success. But this only added more intrigue to the guy in the back. Sam looked at the rearview mirror, then her clock again. Ten fifty four. Clocks: what a funny invention.
“Clocks. What a funny invention. My parents used to praise them, called them a great alternative to the Sun. But me? They’re like prisons. Eight o-clock? Wake up, drag your feet out of bed. Twelve o’clock? Flock to the cafeteria, eat your food, back to work. Like a worker drone, from a bee colony, you know? Mindless, obedient. . . that’s why we ought to abolish clocks.
“How about you? What do you think? I’m sure there’s another side to this.”
The driver of the taxi waited for a response, but not a sound filled the flaming can.
Drew kept doing what he was doing until –eureka!– he pulled out a cell phone from his pocket, and then he flipped it open like a box of chicken wings – respectfully, carefully and lustfully. The signal was the first to pop out, gloating a whopping one bar out of five. But Drew wasn’t worried about the signal, he was worried about his Funbox, would he finally beat the final boss in Eternal Warrior 1.5: Thogar’s Revenge?
Sam was waiting for a response, until something interrupted her. It was a hand, tapping on her shoulder. Drew’s hand. Maybe she’d finally gotten him to open up. Maybe Drew was ready to talk to her. Maybe they’d learn all about each other and become linked forever. Maybe—
“Sorry if I interrupted you,” said Drew, “but this is my stop.”
Sam looked at Drew, then her rearview mirror, then her clock, then the stop – Game Kingdom. The flaming can rolled no more. She watched Drew pack his cell phone into his pocket, open the taxi door, haul his luggage out, and walk away. Drew didn’t use his right hand for any of this, how odd was that?
But wait, he was coming back. Drew ran to Sam’s seat, and Sam rolled down the windows.
He simply said, “Your fare. Uh, sorry. I forgot your fare.”
Drew scratched the back of his head, and made a guilty look. Then he dug into his pocket and found a crumpled pair of twenties in the corner, a few tens and a whole lot of change. Though his right hand was slightly limp, he managed to swipe out the money and hand it to Sam.
The fare was twenty-two twenty. He paid her eighty-seven bucks and some change.
Sam watched as Drew’s feet tripped themselves into the place called Game Kingdom. It seemed to be a children’s Las Vegas, with arcades advertising a neon glow. Drew entered the place, kicking off the dirt on his shoes. She didn’t get the guy to speak up, but at least she got him to point B.
*
Meanwhile, on 79th and Wells, Tommy the grocer is having a hard time holding his box of oranges. When a passerby asks him for the time, he looks to his watch and loses the box. One orange falls on the passerby’s foot, and the passerby apologizes, helping Tom clean up the atomic bomb of citrus. He offers to buy the box.
Two blocks down on 77th and Wells, Mike Bernoulli finds a twenty dollar bill on the floor. He forgot to pay his water bill, so he’s had to do some singing in the rain. Here was his chance, screaming at him, but then a bearded man in a raggedy trenchcoat grabs the twenty. Mike says, “I saw it first!” and a small brawl occurs.
Money exchanges hands.
*
Game Kingdom was empty. It was eleven oh two and the moon was full. Not too many parents let their kids come to arcades so late. Usually, Game Kingdom closed at ten, but it had to get one of its machines taken away that night.
When Drew entered the place, he saw nobody but the cashier. He tried to ignore the guy, though, because his favorite part was being alone in an arcade. Just you, a blinking lamp in the ceiling and a buttload of video games. Drew took a big sniff in the air, trying to absorb the fun. Instead, he coughed because a kid had the cold who couldn’t spell “sue,” let alone “tissue.” The cashier interrupted his coughing fit with,
“Hey Drew, too much to drink? Look there, in the corner. We’re getting rid of the Pac-Man. ”
“I’m off the stuff now. We have a Pac-Man?”
“Yeah, not a lot of people notice it. You haven’t been here that long right? Kids don’t care about a giant circle that eats dots anymore.”
Drew was already on his way to the corner, passing a Gran Turismo racing simulator and a Mortal Kombat machine. It was there that a figure popped out, attacking Drew. The figure was significantly shorter than Drew and had small, stubby hands. The hands were big enough to play Mortal Kombat, though, and big enough to surprise Drew.
“Ah!”
“Hiya Drew!” said the figure. Its voice had a lisp.
“Edie? Don’t you have a curfew or something?”
“Of course, it’s just my aunt doesn’t care much.”
“But. . . “
“C’mon Drew, play Mortal Kombat with me!”
Drew took a look at the little kid in front of him, then his right hand. The fingers almost fell when he raised his right arm. It still had the teethmarks of a dog on them.
“No, I need to decommission this one machine, Edie. Grown-up stuff.”
“Awww, people always say that when they want me to go away,” Edie put on her best sad face and kicked the floor, “C’mon Drew just one round?”
Drew was already in the corner, checking out the Pac-Man machine. He said, “sorry Edie. Grown-ups have their jobs and you have to sleep. Go home, Edie, this isn’t a time for you to be up.”
Edie lost interest and stared at Drew’s pants. “I don’t think you should hang your cell phone on your pants. It makes it easier for robbers to steal.”
“Yeah well, it’s my pants, and besides, it’s too hard to fish out of my pockets.”
Edie lost more interest and stared at the ceiling. Then she stared at Drew again, then she ran to the Pac-Man machine, saying, “How ‘bout this one? Is it hard? Is it better than Mortal Kombat? Can you watch me play it?”
Drew popped open the machine’s lid and observed all of the wires. None of them were out of order, none of them were faulty, yet Game Kingdom was getting rid of it. Drew took his head out of the machine to ask the cashier, “Hey why’re we getting rid of this one? It works fine.”
The cashier told him it was because Pac-Man was outdated. Why use a joystick when you can use trigger buttons? Pac-Man had way too many gray hairs on him, it was time to retire.
Or was it? A fact smacked Drew in the face: you only need one hand to play Pac-Man.
“Hey,” Drew said, “What are you gonna do with this again? Throw it away?” to which the clerk replied, “No one plays it. It’s useless. . . but I think you can buy it from the kingdom.” To which Drew replied, “How much?” to which the clerk replied, “about seven hundred bucks sound fair.” To which Drew replied,
“Holy sh-!” at which Drew covered his mouth to protect Edie’s innocence.
Edie sifted through her pocket and took out some change, “Dre-ew! I think I have three cents.”
---
“Where the hell is Drew? I think he owes me money. Should I charge interest?”
Manny Lopez was still the only customer in the Drinking Jimmy. But he drank enough to fill ten.
“G-goddamn. Life is a huge and ugly beast that chews you up and spits you out.”
That was the fourteenth time Jean Teupman -owner of the Jimmy- heard that sentence. Enough about beasts and chewing already! But then again, good barkeeps had even better patience, and Jean was no exception.
“We’re all just currency to the machine. You put money in, you get a bag of labor. ‘Hey look at this guy, see, he’s worth twenty cents or this other guy, he’s even cheaper, seven cents. What a deal!’ Whatever happened to the opportunity in this place? My grandpa came in, saw the Great Lakes, there’s a saying he had: “Where there’s water, there’s gold,” ‘cause he thought of America as some Holy Land or something. Yeah, he was right, it’s a holy land for the bigwigs, the damn fat cats. Hold on here-”
Manny then took a bunch of crap out of his pocket: his pocketknife, a golden coin, a bottle of pills and his keys. He thumbed through the objects and picked out the pills and the coin. Some of them went into his Budweiser.
Jean gave a suspicious look at him, and he said, “Aspirin. Pharmaco.’s testing it on me to see how it reacts to some Torazadin or something.”
Jean made a quizzical look , and asked what Manny’s job was. He replied, “After Walgreens cut me off, I’ve been in between,” he swallowed a pill, “I’m somebody’s guinea pig now, but hey, I’m a paid guinea pig, no?”
Jean made another suspicious look. Then she told, “I think you better pay up and go to some Starbucks. Get some coffee. I’ll see if I can get you a taxi.”
Manny reached in his pocket and took out some bills and coins. “Nothing but some damn cogs. The machine needs oiling, hell, the machine needs total remodeling. You put a dollar into the machine, what do you get out of it? You’d be lucky to get more than a copper lincoln. First it takes your money, what else? Your sight. Next thing you know, can't tell the difference between a half-dollar coin and a copper lincoln. Black spots everywhere.
"Here you go.”
Jean sifted through the mountain of money – this was her favorite part. Yes, alcohol was a vice, but it was a vice that paid her rent. She made sure to collect all of it.
“All right then,” said Manny, “just gimme one more budweiser to wash down the aspirin.”
---
It was eleven thirty four. After the weird Game Kingdom guy, not a client needed Sam’s flaming can. But what was the guy’s deal? What was he doing in his cell phone that was so captivating? Why wouldn’t he say much to Sam? Why did his right hand have teethmarks? People were an everlasting mystery to Sam, and it killed her if she couldn’t solve it.
It also killed her that she had no business! But then, Sam realized the solution: beer!
At the Drinking Jimmy, there was a solitary man standing outside. In the absence of Budweiser, his only warmth came from rubbing his hands together. Sam stopped exactly so the door was a few hairlines away from his hands.
As soon as the man got in, she got out a Slim Jim, chewed on it and said, “Hey I’m Sam. Where to?”
“1992 Granville. Ohhh. . .” the man groaned, as if intoxicated, “why wasn’t Drew there today?”
Drew? Sam knew a Drew, could this be the same mystery Drew? “Waitaminnit,” Sam said, “How do you know Drew?”
The man made a groan and said, “Roommates. Hey you don’t mind if I lay down on the seat do you?”
“Not at all, that’s why the seats are there. Like I say, the customer’s always right. After all, it’s your money, so it should be your accommodations, right?
“It’s a funny thing, accommodations. Especially showers. You know what pisses me off about them? It’s always way too hot or way too cold. Either way, though, you’ll be shrieking in surprise. Why can’t there just be a happy medium? Why does there have to be such a huge gap? Can’t there be a more even spread of things? But maybe I’m just picky, or idealistic. I’m sure there’s another side. And you?"
Sam even pulled out the big guns for her small talk, but this guy was a zombie. The only sounds that came from him were groans and retches. Sam even pretended to get lost for an entire twenty minutes to get this guy to talk. She preferred the acquiescence of Drew a lot better to the indifference of this guy. Sam’d expected drinkers to be more talkative than usual, but this guy was refuting her theory. Oh well, that’s one mystery she solved.
Eventually, thankfully, Sam found 1992 Granville. The zombie-man got out and paid her an outrageous fare. Jackpot! Sam thought. She wondered what was the guy’s deal, as she drove her flaming can to the garage.
Since it was her first day, she wanted to maintain her taxi as best she could. That meant dealing with all the vomit that the other guy left, which meant going to the Walgreens to get some Fantastik, which meant actually driving some more, which meant way too much work for Sam. So, instead, she hand-sorted the vomit into two sections. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t fragrant. It wasn’t clean. But someone had to take care of her flaming can.
There was the liquid section, to go down the toilet, and the solid section, to go in the garbage. When she was getting rid of the solids, she found one peculiar, shiny object. Strange: how does an arcade token end up in your vomit?
*
“We’re off to see the wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz!”
Having just seen the play, Sally whistles the tune of, “We’re off to See the Wizard.” She’s officially called Dorothy cute with her red heels and pretty with her blue ones. A cat leads her, a meringue shorthair, with a slight limp in its hind left leg. The cat’s name? Rufus. Rufus keeps looking back and wondering why the little girl is skipping. Sally simply looks at the cat and smiles. Rufus wonders if the little girl needs foot surgery.
Sally is skipping to Walgreens, hunting for the perfect Hallmark’s for her mommy’s birthday. Hoping to make it a delightful surprise, Sally snuck out of the house. Rufus ignores this mission and simply looks for something to scratch.
When they cross Brook Street, Rufus finds something like a chew toy. It’s black, it’s round and it’s coming to Rufus really fast. The truck horn honks and Sally screams.
What once stood in Rufus’s spot are now stew ingredients in a third world country. Traffic stops so Sally can collect her cat. She plans to hold a funeral for him, and then buy the card for her mommy’s birthday. Her cat is gone, but her mommy isn’t.
*
Manny’s head felt like it a truck ran over it. He woke up with a hangover and couldn’t figure out the time of day. He also didn’t remember where he put his pants. When Manny managed to sit himself up, black spots covered his entire bedroom. All of Manny’s white t-shirts joined forces to look like one super-dalmation, so he maneuvered away from it, as he eyed for the door. “Good boy,” he said, “you won’t hurt Manny-poo, will you?”
Manny walked into his living room, wondering why his room didn’t have any white t-shirts. From there, he decided to bother his roommate for any shirts. But wait – what if he was at work? Hmm, beeps and boops were coming from his room, so it was worth a try.
There was a knock on the door, and Manny said, “Hey Drew! You got any shirts I can borrow?”
No sign. Nothing. But still the beep-boop.
He tried again: “Drew! It’s Manny! I think I might be late for work, I need some pants, too!”
Nothing again. “Drew? You there?”
At that point, Manny’s patience ended. He tried to open the door with his shoulder. The door wasn’t locked.
When Manny fell into Drew’s room, he didn’t see much. Except for the huge piece of machinery that Drew was attached to. “Holy crap!” said Manny, “Where’d you get that?”
It took a while, and then some, for Drew to respond. “Game Kingdom,” was what he arrived at. After that, the room went silent. Drew’s eyes were stuck on the screen of the Pac-Man machine. They didn’t even move when Drew fished some tokens out of his pocket, and cashed it in.
“Hey,” Manny said, “you have any shirts I can borrow?”
Drew said, “Yeah. Check the floor,”
Manny thanked him and urged his eyes floorward. He found all sorts of shirts. There was one with the vulcan sign of “live long and prosper.” There was a picture of pixilated spaceships shooting a pixilated gremlin in pixilated space. All of them were confusing shirts, but none of them Manny could use for work.
“Hey none of these shirts I can use for work.”
It wasn’t fair, Manny thought. He barely afforded to get himself white t-shirts, and here Drew was with shirts that had spaceships on them! Drew got from his job a huge piece of entertainment called “Pac-Man,” and what did Manny get? A bunch of needle marks on his arm and a headache! In another life, Manny would’ve been the ant that people step on. It wasn’t really fair.
Drew put in some more tokens, took a deep breath and began a game anew. After the yellow circle on the screen ate some pellets, Drew said, “Might be wearing an undershirt under my sweater. Hold on.”
Manny was holding on already. The black spots came into his head again, and he had to lay down for a while. At that point, a white shirt fell on him as if from heaven. A white shirt with pit stains, a butter-like blot on the front and a funny smell of spoiled bread.
“Hey Drew,” said Manny, taking a sniff of the shirt from heaven, “When was the last time you had this washed?”
Too lazy to talk, Drew shrugged his shoulders. This was where he put his mouth to his elbows, coughing a bit.
“Whatever Drew, I found some pants. I’ll get them back to you tonight after work. Thanks.” Manny was about to leave Drew’s room, but then, he said, “You still have a job right?” to which Drew said, “Called in sick. Free for week.” Drew stilll had his eyes on the screen. Manny was about to leave again, but then he asked, “Hey Drew. I thought we were gonna go to the Jimmy last night. What happened?”
Too lazy to talk in full sentences, he said, “Already told you. I’m off beer.”
“Why? The Jimmy was what he had together. I had to complain to Jean the barkeep, I needed you. So does Jean. She could use the business.”
Drew said nothing. He slammed his hands on the machine and then checked the coin slot. Pressing the “return coin” button didn’t seem to do anything. Randomly toggling the control stick didn’t do anything. His pockets wouldn’t yield any more tokens from his frantic frisking. He then rested his hands on the machine and looked at the floor. It was useless.
Then Manny said, “Well? Drew?”
His eyes were still on the machine. He could only say, “Want my other clothes?”
When Manny closed the door, he finally started breathing through his nose. Drew’s room smelled funnier than usual.
To change into the borrowed clothes, Manny went back into his room, avoiding the snarling dalmation, and then left his apartment.
But then something struck him: should he take something for breakfast? Nah, he figured. Breakfast was for people like Drew, not for people like Manny.
---
Samantha Graham sat in her taxi, wondering what to do with the mysterious token in her fingers. She thumbed it through, looking at the heads side: “Game Kingdom” and a picture of a castle. Tails side: “This token has no monetary worth.” Game Kingdom, maybe Drew was a good choice to go to. But then, her shift was coming up soon. How would her boss react to that? Aha, but the money that Drew and zombie-man gave her should cover it!
So Sam bought a Slim Jim, took her flaming can and drove it up to 1992 Granville. The vomiting zombie-man might give her a clue, too.
The vomiting reminded Sam of one of her other jobs. She used to be the janitor for her school. But then there was this one kid, Bob or Rob or something, he always kept spitting around Sam’s mop. It pissed her off, but Sam got him good with the Mr. Clean one day.
When God smiles on someone’s face, He spits on another. Sam was expelled, and pretty much gave up on school there. People haven’t heard from that B/Rob guy ever since.
Sam became a waitress after that. She didn’t like it much, because the customers always talked down to her. Spoke slowly to her like she was a ******. Always complained if the water didn’t have ice in it or something. But what pissed her off the most was what her boss said: “the customer is always right: you wouldn’t know.” That really pissed her off, and she unloaded on him.
The next job she took was cashier at a CVS. It wasn’t very rewarding: just register, cash in, cash out, good day, come again. Too mechanic for her, but there was always this one guy. He’d buy a Slim Jim everyday, just a single Slim Jim. Even if Sam was manning the “25 items or more” register, he’d come to her and buy a single Slim Jim. And he’d always tell her, “Keep the change,” and he smiled. That smile was enough for Sam, but she knew it wouldn’t last. She knew one day that Mr. Smiley would be tired of Slim Jims. So she just got up and quit on CVS, before Mr. Smiley could quit on her.
She went through enough jobs to fill a lifetime, but most of all, she wanted to drive a taxi. That way, people’d have to report to Sam. They’re the ones who owe Sam. The master of the taxi was Sam. She liked that feeling, but she also remembered the feeling from Mr. Smiley. Sam toned down her temper, and she smiled more. That’s why she always had a Slim Jim with her.
When God spits on someone’s face, He smiles on another.
*
At the peak of the Heller Tower, Karl Taget is wondering for the twelfth time if it’s really worth it. He tries consulting the Suicide Hotline, but it blocked his cell phone a few days ago. He wonders how many people care about him: as many toes on his finger. Karl then imagines having four feet, but then he reminds himself: Karl Taget is contemplating suicide.
He looks to the sky, pleading for an answer, and it comes to him in the form of pigeon crap. Not even Nature wants him anymore – his air is no good for the trees, and his life is no better.
Karl covers his eyes, hoping that watching himself die is half the pain.
Meanwhile, two blocks down at Mercy South, Ellie Garcia is gritting her teeth and popping out two baby boys. Their father is hoping to name one Darth and the other Vader, but Ellie knows better. Maybe she’ll name one of them Carl. Either that or Maul.
*
Sam found herself at the steps of 1992 Granville. Here she was, she was finally going to solve the mystery of the arcade token. Shooting a glance at the doorbells, Sam wasn’t sure which apartment was Drew’s, so she rung all of the them, from top to bottom, left to right.
A few women and an old-sounding man didn’t even know that a Drew lived in their building. Most people didn’t answer, probably because they had work, but one little kid answered her with a lisp, “Hello?”
Sam asked for Drew, and the little girl responded, “Oh, Drew? He’s in apartment 706. He might be at work, but sometimes he just skips work to play video games. Do you need Drew?”
“Yeah,” Sam said, “I’m looking for him.”
The little girl with a lisp said, “All right.” And then a buzz noise came from the door. Sam shot a glance at the stairs and she wondered why the people called them an “incline” and never a “decline.” Eventually, Sam reached 706 and knocked on the door.
The only response she got was a different door opening: the stairway door. A little girl emerged from it, holding a video game controller. She said with a lisp, “Is Drew home?”
“I don’t think so,” Sam said, “No answer.”
“Sometimes he gets caught up in his games. It gets annoying, but the word he calls it’s ‘hardcore.’ I looked it up on my aunt’s dictionary, but I don’t understand what it has to do with really fast rock music. . .
“Anyways, he gave me keys, so I could bother him when I wanted, but I never figured out how to use them,” the little girl said, handing Sam the keys, “Can you show me?”
There were three keys, but the last one was the key to the door. Why is it always the last one? Sam asked in agony.
Inside, the little girl rushed towards the TV and plugged something into it. Sam dropped her keys next to the door and said, “Video games? Don’t you have school little girl? And you have a name besides ‘little girl’ right, little girl?”
She responded, “I’m Edie. I don’t think it’s very safe to put your keys next to the door. It makes robbers’ jobs that much easier.”
“Well, I think you should learn the value of education, little girl. It’s a funny thing, you know. Some people would bust their a—their butts, just to get them some books! Don’t you know how lucky you are? Life isn’t fair to some people, but it’s giving you a blessing! Besides, you don’t wanna become something like a taxi driver, do you?”
Suddenly, the girl’s voice got a lot more excited, “A taxi driver! Of course I wanna drive a taxi! How fun would. . . .”
Sam lost interest and looked around the room. Maybe it’d give her some clues about who Drew was. Maybe Sam could finally figure him out. But then Edie took Sam’s hand and ran towards a door. Beeps and boops were coming out of them.
“Dre-ew!” she said, while knocking on the door, “Are you the-ere?” No answer but a few grunts and what seemed like smacking a plastic board.
“Drew?” said Sam, “It’s Sam, the person who drove you to Game Kingdom yesterday. Remember?”
At that point, both Sam’s and Edie’s ears were to the door, so they practically fell over when Drew opened it.
“What?” he said with a raspy voice, “You don’t have any arcade tokens do you? ‘Cause I just ran out.”
---
Manny Lopez walked down the street. The med clinic told him to always come in as early as he could, so they could check for any side effects. He told them about the black spots in his eyes, but they said it was a natural part of the aspirin and, “We think it should pass.”
He walked past a bakery, and he stared at it until his neck wouldn’t turn. Walking was a habit he couldn’t control. From the bakery, his eyes turned to the floor. All he saw was cow skin. That would’ve been the case at least, if the sidewalk was clean. Cans decorated the ground. Some of them flattened, most of them rolling, some of them leaking a little Budweiser. The wind was lifting chip bags everywhere, urging Manny to grab one. Breakfast was a choice he didn’t take. They were his favorites too, Cheeto’s. That’s because with a Cheeto’s, you always know what you’re getting. It’s a small bag, but that’s because they pack those suckers in. Not like the phony kind. Munchos? They’ll put as much space in their chips, try to make it look like more. The bag’s even bigger. Full of phonies, you can never trust what it looks like. But the Cheeto’s? You know what you’re getting with that. No lies. The both of them are pieces of junk, but at least the Cheeto’s is honest about it.
“Hey someone stop that kid!” a man in a red coat said.
Covered in a blue sweater, someone bumped past Manny. Manny only got a peek at her, but with the way she held that backpack, it looked bad. He extended his arm and grabbed the girl by the backpack. With his eyes down to hers, Manny gave a speech: “Hey. Where do you think this’ll take you? In a day? In a month? In a year? You think this’ll take you somewhere? Yeah you’re a real blessing to society you are. You don’t wanna end up at some clinic, testing your body on crap, do you? Are you happy this way? It could be so much better, don’t you see? It doesn’t have to be this way you kno—” at which point the man in the red coat grabbed Manny’s shoulder. He said, “Hey could you get your hands off my daughter?”
Manny was dumbfounded. He wanted to ask for an explanation, but then the man scratched his ear and said,
“Sorry. It’s just. . . my daughter likes running, and I tried to catch up to her, but, y’know, this neighborhood’s a little shady and all. . .. but my daughter was beating me! And it wasn’t really safe to have her so far from me with the shadiness and all. Sorry!”
The two turned their backs on Manny and ran to the bakery. He kept his eyes on the floor and eventually found 1992 Granville.
The black spots disappeared. That was the day Manny learned to hate Cheeto’s.
---
Drew was a very happy person. He’d just gotten an arcade token that apparently gave him free play for the rest of his life. Free play! He could play Pac-Man nonstop now!
“What’s up with Drew?” Sam whispered, to the girl beside her.
“What’s up with him?,” Edie said, “He wasn’t real specific, but what he told me is: a dog bit it. He didn’t say what kinda dog though.”
“No that’s not what I mean. Why does Drew obsess over this stuff?”
“Why? Um. . . I’m not sure. Wanna ask?” Edie said, “Hey Drew! Dre-ew!”
Edie hit the jackpot: she got a grunt and a sneeze from the guy. She then asked him why he liked video games so much.
“Why?” Drew said, “Dad’s a fanatic. Gave me a gameboy for my birthday. Never let go of it. I try to visit him sometimes, but he won’t let me.” His eyes never left the screen for a single beep.
“Why?” Sam said.
“Well, ‘cause one night I got drunk enough I ran over—“
“—Your dad? You ran over your own dad?” Sam said.
“His dog. I ran over his dog. Won’t forgive me for it. Sure sucks. But hey, I got a free play token. How awesome is that? This has gotta be some kind of dream.”
And then Sam finally understood Drew. It was like a spotlight shone down on her, illuminating everything. It wasn’t much though, Sam was hoping for something more traumatic. Like maybe his father succumbed while playing Pac-Man, and Drew was committing his life to avenging his father and beating the game. Or maybe Drew’s dad set a record for playing Pac-Man the longest and Drew was trying to beat it. The reality wasn’t very exciting, but hey: that’s life, Sam told herself.
From there a voice came from the door. It said, “God, I hate Cheeto’s.” and then the voice’s owner opened the door. When he saw Edie, he jerked his head and said, “Edie,” but when he saw Sam, he gave a confused look.
Sam said, “Uhh, I’m sorry. I just came over here, to ask Drew about this arcade token I found in my cab. Would you know something about it?” to which Manny replied, “Wait. Did this token say ‘game kingdom’?” to which Sam said, “Uh-huh,” to which Manny said, “And ‘this is not real currency’?” to which Sam replied, “Something like that, yeah.”
“That’s my brother’s.” Manny figured, “He bootlegs all kinds of crap. Says it’s some kind of infinite play token.”
“Well, that’s what it seems like.” Sam said.
Manny froze for a second. So his brother wasn’t lying? An infinite play token, that could definitely get Manny a lot of t-shirts without black spots. Maybe a shield to defend from the super-dalmation. But then Manny never heard of an infinite play token, was there such a thing? But then again, Manny didn’t know much about arcades. He saw this as an opportunity, as water, because where there was water, there was gold. God was giving Manny a grin that spanned ear to ear. It wasn’t very often that He chucked a “Hey buddy, way to be!” at Manny. It was usually spit.
“Hey Manny,” said the machine. It sounded like the machine at least, but it was actually Drew.
“Hey Drew, so that coin? It really works?”
“Like a satellite on a sunny day, Manny.”
“So. . . can I have it?”
“Why?”
“It’s mine.”
“Prove it.”
“What do you mean? My brother made it for me.”
“I could say my brother made it for me. What makes me wrong?”
“You don’t have a brother.”
“I could. My father could’ve had an affair.”
“Well, we know for sure that my brother made it.”
“What brother? Where is this mystery brother you keep talking about?”
Manny sighed. Then he put his hands on his hips. Then he glared at Drew. Then he came up with an idea, which began with, “Hey Drew. Can I have a game after you?”
Drew paused for a bit, his eyes still on the screen. Who was he to deny Manny? After all, Drew wouldn’t have been hooked if his dad wasn’t there. Maybe Drew could be Manny’s dad. It wasn’t such a bad idea, so he said, “’course you can. Here.” Drew tried to step out of the way, but his legs failed him, having been standing for far too long. His bed made a loud thud as he fell onto it, coughed, and slept.
Manny was watching the trainwreck. It was a beautiful trainwreck of opportunity. Manny’s finger dashed for the return token button and the token came out, as shiny as his future.
“Wait,” Sam said, “Are you sure you wanna do this to your roommate?”
“Taxi driver lady,” he said, pointing at the snoozing Drew, “He gets all the breaks. He does nothing, yet everything goes right for him. Free Pac-Man machine? You got it. Dream job at an arcade? You got it. T-shirts that didn’t come from a flea market? You got it. What do I have, huh? This,” he pushed the token to her eyes, “This is all I have. You, you have a taxi. You’re fine. Me? I have nothing. Nothing but this.”
Manny was leaving, but then he stopped. He took off his shirt and his pants and he said, “Tell him thanks when he wakes up.”
He also noticed Sam’s keys to her flaming can on the door.
Manny drove. He drove and he drove and he drove.
*
Drew is devastated when he wakes up. He continues to be devastated weeks after. His roommate just up and left him, now he’s alone. What does he do?
Meanwhile, two blocks down, Drew’s dad comes to a decision. It’s been long enough that he’s shunned his own flesh and blood, it’s time to share glories past.
But there’s one problem, he doesn’t know where Drew is. But then, he remembers where Drew got the balls to run over poor Rusty. The local bar, the Drinking Jimmy.
When Drew’s dad comes into the Jimmy, he sees a half-naked stranger. The stranger keeps folding his pocketknife: in, then out. In, then out. Eventually, the stranger sees and approaches him, offering an infinite play token for sale. Drew’s dad had only heard legends of such a token, but he always believed it just that. But then this stranger, he shows him a side that says, “game kingdom,” and he’s bombarded with memories of his son. Memories. When he moved out, when he went to college, when he smashed their NES. It was painful. It was life. And he saw hope in it. Maybe they could be father and son again. Maybe this coin would bring them together. Maybe they could put memories behind them and the future in front.
So he decides, and he asks the stranger, “Credit or cash?”
Someone behind the counter, washing the bottles, takes a bite of her Slim Jim. Then she says, “Tokens. What a funny invention. They never just have one side to them. How ‘bout that?”
sigh. I put in larger line breaks to maybe up my viewership. I'll scan for typos later / finding it very hard to go through this story / will do later / good luck everyone / my favorite part is that I used a slim jim to explain Sam
. You still have to clean up all those typos though.