High Five

Dear Web Diary,
Today was not a good day. It rained and my boss alluded that she was going through menopause both times I made small talk with her. This is a story about animals; I wrote five hours before it was due last fall.


High Five

“Swanky fucking place, Joester,” Greg the Salamander said pacing around the loft. “I thought the divorce was going to squeeze you dry, but this is looking pretty good.”
“Well, I got the portfolio. Made some good choices.” Joey the Scorpion replied.
“Obviously. How old is Sharon again?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“Cradle robbing. Cradle robbing, Joseph. You learn your lesson? You make this one sign a prenup?” Greg said looking at Joey expecting a laugh.
“Is the best man really supposed to say shit like that?”
“Sorry. I told you I’m gonna make it up to you this time, and I will. But this fucking view, huh?”

Joey watched Greg’s reflection in the wall of windows as he passed over the Manhattan skyline, and dropped into the East river.

“Never figured you for a Brooklyn boy, though.”
“It’s the Heights. It’s worth it for the view.”
“You kids ever fuck with the blinds open?”
“Sometimes.” Joey lied.

Joey the Scorpion hadn’t seen Greg the Salamander since his last wedding. Or more the bachelor party the night before; he was still too drunk the next day to perform his best man duties. They’d grown up together in the Bronx and followed each other through school. Joey settled down with Mandy the Cobra right after law school, but Greg didn’t. When he’d received the second wedding invitation in the mail he insisted on being best man again, insisted on throwing another bachelor party. Joey avoided his calls; he wouldn’t give him the names of any of the other guys going hoping to discourage him. But here he was in a power suit fresh from a drive from Syracuse.

“You want to?” Greg asked putting one finger against his nostril.
“Fine. Just not directly on the table. I think Sharon left her vanity mirror in the bathroom.”
“Sure thing. This way? ”Greg said gesturing to the right.
“Yeah. And only cut what you’re going to use and clean up. Jason‘s coming over in the morning.” Joey said calling after him as he walked down the hall.
“What I‘m going to use? I got this for the both of us. It‘s my gift.” Greg said as he walked back into the living room.
“We aren’t in college anymore, Greg. I have three kids”
“Bachelor party!” Greg hissed raising his hands. “It’s my job to make sure you live a little before you throw away your life. Again.”

Joey’s phone rang.

“Hello?”
“We need to talk.”
“Mandy?”
“It’s about Jason.”
“Is he okay?”
“Yeah.’
“He’s with you tonight, right? I told you I’m picking him up in the morning.”
“Yeah.”
“Then what’s up?”
“I’m not going to do this over the phone.”
“Do what?”
“Can you just come over? It‘s important.”

Joey hung up the phone. Greg had stopped cutting the coke instead using the razor to guide a stray ant’s path around the table.

“Who was that?’
“Mandy?”
“Really? She trying to psyche you out or something? Want more money?”
“She said it’s important. It’s about Jason. Can I borrow your car?”
“The Beamer?’
“If you drive a Beamer now, yes.”
“What happened to the Saab?”
“I sold it after the divorce.”
“Why can’t you take a cab?”
“Dressed like this?”
“You have all this fancy shit, but you don’t have a car?” Salamander Greg tapping the razor against the mirror with each syllable.
“This is ‘important‘” Joey said gesturing with his pinchers.
“Okay, yes. I’m just giving you a hard time. I’ll let you borrow the Beamer. But be quick; we‘re going out. I‘ll wait for you to start in on your present.” He said with an air of finality putting the razor down. Greg stood up and left the table. Joey heard the bathroom door close and watched the three evenly cut segments of the ant twitching on his coffee table before grabbing Greg‘s keys.

~

Mandy the Cobra had an apartment in the Village; she’d moved in with Franklin the Parrot after the girls had gone off to college. Traffic wasn’t terrible for Saturday evening, but Joey had to park seven blocks away. He scurried over to her brownstone; she buzzed him up.

“Hey.” Joey said closing the door behind him with his stinger.
“Hey.” Mandy replied.

Joey let himself in and found Mandy in her cramped kitchen standing at the sink as it filled with water. Joey gazed into the dark, false eyes on the back of her hood. She was wearing an apron, her pink one.

“Is Franklin here?”
“No, he and Jason went out to a movie.”
“So, what’s up?” He said after a minute.
“Did you tell Jason he was a mistake?” Mandy said still staring into the dishwater. “He told me you said that today.”
“He asked. Last week.” replied Joey
“And you told him he was a ‘mistake?’”
“ I said he was unplanned for. If he said ‘mistake,’ those are his words, not mine.”
“Oh, that’s great Joey. His words. That makes it better. He’s eight.”
“He is eight. What the fuck was I supposed to say? ‘So, your mother and I fucked on a leap year, and --”
“You didn’t have to tell him anything.”
“I think he had it figured out. He’s getting an A in Math, Mandy. His sisters are ten and twelve years older than him. And I’m not the one who bought him those fucking flash cards.”
“Well excuse me for caring about our son‘s education!”
“I’m not the one trying to lie to him, Mandy.”
“It isn‘t a lie, Joey!”
“And who gets their son flash cards for fucking Christmas?”

Mandy opened her mouth, unfolding her fangs then closed it and shook her head.

“No, we aren’t going to do this. I didn’t call you over here to fight again.”

They stood silent for a moment, then Mandy turned towards him, tasting the air.

“Do you remember what you said when I first told you I was pregnant with Jason.”
“No.”
“You said ‘high-five.’”
“I was probably drunk.”
“‘High five’ is a good thing, isn’t it?”
“All I said was ‘high five?’”

Mandy tasted the air three more times, then turned and stared again into the dishwater in the sink. She dipped her tail in and shuffled around the dishes.

“What’s this really all about Mandy?” Joey said stepping one of his six legs closer. “Huh? Did you really call me the night before my wedding to ‘talk about Jason?’”
“God damn it, Joey.”
“God damn what? You aren‘t making any ‘god damn’ sense.”
“Just leave, Joey.”
“Why are you being like this?”
“Just leave.”

Joey opened and closed his pinchers and gazed into the face on her hood created by those big fake eyes with a tiny pink bow for a mouth. He thought about undoing the knot. He took one last look around the kitchen then turned and left the apartment. Outside he spent close to half an hour walking the same ten block loop looking for his old, white Saab before realizing he’d taken Greg’s car.

~

“Where the fuck have you been?” Greg slurred as Joey came in.

Joey just stared at Greg splayed on his armchair, eyes glazed over with one twitching and half-closed. Joey knew from countless experiences this was the way Greg’s eyes got when was black-out drunk. Surprisingly, the coke looked untouched as promised.

“Well, I started without you.” Greg said throwing his arm towards upset bottles of Bacardi and Coke Zero, either drank or spilt, both empty.
“Sit down, get us a drinksy-poo. Then we can go out.”
“I’ll sit down, but I think you’ve had enough, Greg,”
“Don‘t be that way, buddy” he said gently but slurring, slowly uncurling his orange tail. “Give me some boose!” Greg blurted.
“C’mon Greg, you’ve had enough.”
“Give me the fucking boose, Joseph!”
“No, Greg, I’m cutting you off.”
“Get me more rum, or I’ll fucking, I’ll fuck-- I’ll drive, you asshole!”
“I still have your keys, Greg.”
“My keys are right…” Greg said fumbling his webbed digits around the coffee table then brandished the remote control. “Here! You asshole!”
“That’s the remote, Greg.”
“Fuck it!” He said spiking the remote on the carpet and collapsing back on the armchair. “I’ll find them, and when I wrap my fucking Beamer, my Beamer around a light pole, you’ll be sorry, Joey. Sorry-Joey…”
“Okay, Greg.”
“You’re Sorry-Joey.”
“You‘re right, Buddy. I am.”

Greg was still mumbling but began to doze on the Lay-Z-Boy; his normally quite productive mucus glands were working overtime oozing the alcohol out of his system and onto the suede upholstery. “Goddamn it, Greg” he thought squeezing his mandibles shut. He walked to the closet and picked out his least favorite blanket and draped it over Greg with his stinger while he used one of his pinchers to grab a still lit cigarette dangling from Greg’s sticky fingers. He took a drag off it and then walked to the kitchen and threw it into the sink. He took the phone of the hook and went to bed.



That's it. I bet tomorrow will be much better, Diary; or at least I hope so. Good night.

Yours Truly,