The I-Hop Incident

"All action takes place, so to speak, in a kind of twilight,

which like a fog or moonlight, often tends to make things

seem grotesque and larger than they really are."

It wasn't until we were in the I-Hop parking lot that I remembered. "Damn, I forgot to bring my paper. I've got nothing to read."

Boredom is a monster who grips me in absolute fear and dread. It's infinite emptiness squeezes life from the soul like wringing water from a rag. I'm way, way beyond my quota of boredom. Hell, if I wanted boredom I'd go back to school. My companion, however, was not sympathetic.

"Oh, it's the end of the world," her sarcastic reply. But I was adamant.

"I don't care. I need something to read." I was already upset. Things have been boiling over lately. My only answer on what I wanted to eat that night was "nothing". Nothing sounded good. Just eating the same old shit over and over and over like in a prison. Irrational as it may be, I rebelled against my budgetary confinement just to feel alive.

Eating out is a big no-no, but I could not be bargained with, I could not be reasoned with. I always love omelettes so I settled on that for my evening meal. But this caused chaos within, furious arguments as to my imminent demise erupted as I descended into the fog of war. I had no defense for this outlandish spending, my criminal want of an omelette had branded me with self-treason.

"Don't they usually sell papers out front at places like these?"

"Oh, yeah." But I wasn't really in the moment. I was far off doing battle, defending my life. "Wait here."

"Don't you want to take some quarters with you?"

"No! Why would I want to do that? I don't even know if they sell papers here."

I got out of the car with her barking at me still but I closed my ears to her hopefully unjustified criticism. I'm already being criticized enough! When I got to the front of the building I could see the two newspaper boxes with papers to sell. I gave her the thumbs up as she waved me back.

Shit, I could tell she was just going to yell at me more so I wanted to make sure I was absolutely in the right. I really didn't want to make the extra hike over to the boxes but I realized I needed to know how much a paper cost.

"A fucking dollar! And it's not even Sunday." Armed with this information I returned to the other side of the building and back to the car. My foray had not impressed her.

"You really are a basket case, aren't you? Why didn't you just take enough quarters with you to buy a paper instead of walking back and forth, back and forth?"

"Well..."

"When you saw the papers, why didn't you just come back then? You still kept walking away like an idiot!"

Shit. I was an idiot. I could have just taken a couple bucks of quarters and grabbed a paper on the way in. But I'd refused. I had to refuse. I was possessed by needing to be "right", to not be seen making a mistake. I was only going to bring quarters if there were papers! And I was only going to bring the exact change after that! Those were my demands. I was feeling so wrong eating out, my fears inflated beyond all proportions.

"OK, you got your paper money. I'll be back after I run my errand. Think you can make you're way in?"

Jeez, is my sarcasm this withering when I do it to other people? Anyway, I was completely self-conscious and nervous as the waitress seated me. I half expected her to pick up where my friend left off. Oh, you want the moron booth, don't you? The state I was in I would have dutifully replied "yes" just to escape further grief.

Unwrapping the silverware from the napkin, I fumbled the fork as it dropped into the seat. Nerves, Mr. Bond. Watch your nerves! The exhortation did not help. I dropped the fork again when I took my first bite. The guilt devil made me do it.

I enjoyed the omelette as much as I could. It was pretty tasty, in fact. By the time I was done my companion returned to join me. She was still shaking her head.

"Feel better?"

"Not really. I mean, maybe. It was good, but still...I shouldn't haven't eaten it. I don't know what to do sometimes."

"This is all because of that woman you told me about, isn't it?"

"I'm just trying to keep my head from being blown off at this point. You have no idea what I have to go through for money. I live in two different worlds and I don't know which one is real."

"Yes, I know. You keep telling me you're dying. Is that all you know how to do?"

I didn't want to answer. "Seems so. I've got nothing to offer."

"So you ran off that woman before she could find out." Fuck, she was reading my mind, my life an open book. "Is that why you wanted to make her hate you?"

"Yes. And..." I didn't want to confess further. Which way to best preserve myself? To tell the truth or not? I took a guess. "Well, you see, I couldn't please her any other way. I've got no future. So I figured if she hated me and I died, she'd be satisfied by that." Dear Lord, that sounded far worse saying it out loud. My friend paused as she crossed her arms and sat back in her seat.

"That's fucked up."

"I know."

More silence. I could tell she was highly unimpressed. After letting me twist for an appropriate period of time she finally spoke up. "Come on. I'll take you back to your place."

I stayed wisely silent as we walked through the parking lot in the cool moonlight. I could tell she was still fuming, though.

"You know, I should write a book about you."

"'Geniuses I've Known And Loved?'"

I was getting back to my normal self with that one small act of daring self-forgiveness. But that didn't spare me one final shot.

"More like 'Something Stupid This Way Comes'."