Read Online All My Friends Are Superheroes by Andrew Kaufman - Free Book Online
Authors: Andrew Kaufman
Tags: FIC019000
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carried a vintage microwave oven and a rice maker.
‘You have a lot of stuff,’ the Amphibian repeated. They tried to fit everything from the basement apartment into the truck. It didn’t fit. The truck was full and a quarter of Tom’s possessions remained behind.
Tom and the Amphibian locked the truck. They drove over to the Perfectionist’s. When they arrived, they had a beer. The Perfectionist looked into the back of the truck. She reorganized. The truck was now half-empty.
The Amphibian left for ball practice. Tom and the Perfectionist started loading her possessions into the truck.
‘You have a lot of stuff,’ Tom told her. He was carrying a box filled with antique cookware.
‘I don’t have a lot of stuff,’ the Perfectionist said. She carried a box filled with dresses she’d worn in high school.
Not all of the Perfectionist’s possessions fit into the truck. Three-quarters did. The rest they left behind. They drove over to the new place and parked on the street. Excited, they ran inside. They were enjoying the view from the bedroom when they saw someone stealing their U-Haul.
By the time they’d finished with the police reports and convinced U-Haul to rent them a second truck, it was getting dark. Tom and the Perfectionist were tired. Without talking, they drove to Tom’s apartment. They loaded what remained. Then, still without talking, they drove to thePerfectionist’s apartment and loaded what was left on her lawn. All the objects fit easily into the van.
Tom started the truck. He sighed. The Perfectionist crossed her arms. They drove downtown, towards their new apartment, past the alley where they’d encountered Sleazy Jim just after they’d started going out together.
The alley was between two stores that had been vacant for years. Sleazy Jim always stood in front of it. One Wednesday, after fighting for seventy-two consecutive hours, Tom and the Perfectionist walked past it. Sleazy Jim was waiting.
‘Psssst,’ Sleazy Jim said.
Tom and the Perfectionist continued walking. They ignored him, ignoring the one button holding his trench coat closed and how he smelled like a hospital. They’d ignored him a hundred times before.
‘You wanna buy a myth?’ Sleazy Jim added. He’d never said that before. Neither of them could ignore it. They stopped. They turned and looked at Sleazy Jim. Sleazy Jim nodded. Tom and the Perfectionist followed him.
The wind blew sheets of newspaper around. Halfway down the alley was a dumpster. They all ducked behind it. Sleazy Jim stood with his back to the brick wall. Over his right shoulder, ‘AC/DC RULES’ was spray-painted in yellow. He unbuttoned the top and only button. He opened his trench coat. Inside, safety-pinned to the fabric, were three envelope-sized pieces of paper. On each card he’dhand-written a slogan using thick block capitals. Sleazy Jim pointed with a long, scabby finger.
‘I’ve got “Good triumphs over evil.” “All men are created equal.” “Love conquers all.” Whaddya want?’ Sleazy Jim asked.
Tom looked at the Perfectionist. He made his ‘no big deal to me’ face. The Perfectionist looked at Tom. She made her ‘same here’ face.
‘I’m sorry,’ Tom said. ‘We already own all of those.’
At that exact moment, Tom and the Perfectionist knew they should be together forever.
Their new apartment was another ten minutes past Sleazy Jim’s alley. They drove in silence. They unloaded everything. When they were finished, they had a green armchair, a white sofa, three potted plants, a kitchen table with four chairs, four complete table settings, a skillet, two knives, three pots of various sizes, a queen-sized bed, two sets of sheets, one comforter, seven collar shirts, seven blouses, fourteen T-shirts, fourteen pairs of pants (six jean, eight slacks), seven sweaters, fourteen pairs of socks, fourteen pairs of underwear, personal hygiene products and four large white towels.
The plane hits another patch of
‘You have a lot of stuff,’ the Amphibian repeated. They tried to fit everything from the basement apartment into the truck. It didn’t fit. The truck was full and a quarter of Tom’s possessions remained behind.
Tom and the Amphibian locked the truck. They drove over to the Perfectionist’s. When they arrived, they had a beer. The Perfectionist looked into the back of the truck. She reorganized. The truck was now half-empty.
The Amphibian left for ball practice. Tom and the Perfectionist started loading her possessions into the truck.
‘You have a lot of stuff,’ Tom told her. He was carrying a box filled with antique cookware.
‘I don’t have a lot of stuff,’ the Perfectionist said. She carried a box filled with dresses she’d worn in high school.
Not all of the Perfectionist’s possessions fit into the truck. Three-quarters did. The rest they left behind. They drove over to the new place and parked on the street. Excited, they ran inside. They were enjoying the view from the bedroom when they saw someone stealing their U-Haul.
By the time they’d finished with the police reports and convinced U-Haul to rent them a second truck, it was getting dark. Tom and the Perfectionist were tired. Without talking, they drove to Tom’s apartment. They loaded what remained. Then, still without talking, they drove to thePerfectionist’s apartment and loaded what was left on her lawn. All the objects fit easily into the van.
Tom started the truck. He sighed. The Perfectionist crossed her arms. They drove downtown, towards their new apartment, past the alley where they’d encountered Sleazy Jim just after they’d started going out together.
The alley was between two stores that had been vacant for years. Sleazy Jim always stood in front of it. One Wednesday, after fighting for seventy-two consecutive hours, Tom and the Perfectionist walked past it. Sleazy Jim was waiting.
‘Psssst,’ Sleazy Jim said.
Tom and the Perfectionist continued walking. They ignored him, ignoring the one button holding his trench coat closed and how he smelled like a hospital. They’d ignored him a hundred times before.
‘You wanna buy a myth?’ Sleazy Jim added. He’d never said that before. Neither of them could ignore it. They stopped. They turned and looked at Sleazy Jim. Sleazy Jim nodded. Tom and the Perfectionist followed him.
The wind blew sheets of newspaper around. Halfway down the alley was a dumpster. They all ducked behind it. Sleazy Jim stood with his back to the brick wall. Over his right shoulder, ‘AC/DC RULES’ was spray-painted in yellow. He unbuttoned the top and only button. He opened his trench coat. Inside, safety-pinned to the fabric, were three envelope-sized pieces of paper. On each card he’dhand-written a slogan using thick block capitals. Sleazy Jim pointed with a long, scabby finger.
‘I’ve got “Good triumphs over evil.” “All men are created equal.” “Love conquers all.” Whaddya want?’ Sleazy Jim asked.
Tom looked at the Perfectionist. He made his ‘no big deal to me’ face. The Perfectionist looked at Tom. She made her ‘same here’ face.
‘I’m sorry,’ Tom said. ‘We already own all of those.’
At that exact moment, Tom and the Perfectionist knew they should be together forever.
Their new apartment was another ten minutes past Sleazy Jim’s alley. They drove in silence. They unloaded everything. When they were finished, they had a green armchair, a white sofa, three potted plants, a kitchen table with four chairs, four complete table settings, a skillet, two knives, three pots of various sizes, a queen-sized bed, two sets of sheets, one comforter, seven collar shirts, seven blouses, fourteen T-shirts, fourteen pairs of pants (six jean, eight slacks), seven sweaters, fourteen pairs of socks, fourteen pairs of underwear, personal hygiene products and four large white towels.
The plane hits another patch of
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