much just a natural evolution.
I'm starting to really enjoy myself, letting my excellent
day and everything just flow through me now that it looks like I've got great
things to look forward to. The beer is helping quite a bit. I stick my head in
the fridge.
"Hey Thwack," I say, "I think I drank all the Spaten ."
He's behind the couch for some reason. A head pokes up.
"What is that? Spaten . What is Spaten ?"
"I dunno . I think it's
German."
He makes a pfffft ! sound and ducks back down behind the couch. "Don't
worry about it. I drank all of Belgium like an hour ago."
I don't worry about it and get something Japanese or Chinese
or Korean. I can't tell from the ideograms anything specific about country of
origin but it's not bad so I add this to the list of things I'm not going to
worry about.
Wait, but there is one thing I do need to worry about: I
pick up the cup with Em's address on it and put it in
the kitchen cupboard. Highest up and all the way in the back. I set my face and wag a stern mental finger at myself.
Go ahead. Have a good time. But do not—I repeat, DO NOT—forget
this cup. You are absolutely going to need it so DO. NOT. FORGET.
I take a pull on my beer, grab the olive oil and go to
prepare the Slip 'n' Slide.
I forgot the cup.
I search frantically and fruitlessly for ten minutes, but
after the first few seconds it's clear to me that I'm not going to find it and
I left it at Thwacker's place. The whole night is a
pleasant blur, but somewhere in there the cup with the address and myself were
separated and now I don't know where she lives because I can't remember because
I didn't think I needed to because I had the cup because it's vital I have the
cup because because because
I am breathing in ragged, heart-thumping bursts and none of
this is helping. I try to calm down and be realistic about the situation. Ok.
Question one: Do I remember the address that was written on the cup? I know I
looked at it a bunch of times, but did I actually absorb what the words on the
cup actually said. I reach back into my memory, trying really hard to bring the
address on the cup into focus. But all that comes to me is that she doesn't dot
her " i"s with little hearts. So there's at
least one lowercase "i" in the address. Which helps
me not at all.
Question two: Do I remember where I put the cup at Thwacker's place? No. Nothing so specific as "where" but I definitely have a very strong feeling that
it is there. Probably it's there.
I start to hyperventilate again. No, no, knock it off. I
need to take this step by step. Gather information, move forward based on that
information, assess, repeat .
"What time is it?" I call out.
A pause. "Almost
three."
Ok. Three o'clock. That's plenty of time. I just have to go
over to Thwack's, find the cup wherever I hid it, get the address and move on
from there. It's not part of my original plan (which now that I think of it I
never actually made a plan, but that's even better because now this is the REAL
original plan), but that's what I will do. And everything will be fine.
So bolstered, I dress and brush my teeth again and put on
shoes and drink a glass of water and make sure I have everything I could
possibly need for the last nine or so hours of existence. The thought of this
doesn't bother me overmuch, for some reason. I've never really thought much
past the next nine hours anyway. This time will just be the final run. I've
just got to make this one count.
I glance out the window. It's still relatively quiet, or
seems to be from what I can see. Ape-Head is still MIA, and the TV in his
apartment now just shows static. His window is open, one of the curtains moving
softly in the breeze. This makes me uneasy somehow. I go into the living room
and head for the front door.
"Hang on, mate, I'm coming with," Zee says. He's
pulling on his battered work boots.
"Uh, Ok. But I'm gonna be
moving pretty quick."
"Yeah, yeah," He grunts as he crams his foot into
the
I'm starting to really enjoy myself, letting my excellent
day and everything just flow through me now that it looks like I've got great
things to look forward to. The beer is helping quite a bit. I stick my head in
the fridge.
"Hey Thwack," I say, "I think I drank all the Spaten ."
He's behind the couch for some reason. A head pokes up.
"What is that? Spaten . What is Spaten ?"
"I dunno . I think it's
German."
He makes a pfffft ! sound and ducks back down behind the couch. "Don't
worry about it. I drank all of Belgium like an hour ago."
I don't worry about it and get something Japanese or Chinese
or Korean. I can't tell from the ideograms anything specific about country of
origin but it's not bad so I add this to the list of things I'm not going to
worry about.
Wait, but there is one thing I do need to worry about: I
pick up the cup with Em's address on it and put it in
the kitchen cupboard. Highest up and all the way in the back. I set my face and wag a stern mental finger at myself.
Go ahead. Have a good time. But do not—I repeat, DO NOT—forget
this cup. You are absolutely going to need it so DO. NOT. FORGET.
I take a pull on my beer, grab the olive oil and go to
prepare the Slip 'n' Slide.
I forgot the cup.
I search frantically and fruitlessly for ten minutes, but
after the first few seconds it's clear to me that I'm not going to find it and
I left it at Thwacker's place. The whole night is a
pleasant blur, but somewhere in there the cup with the address and myself were
separated and now I don't know where she lives because I can't remember because
I didn't think I needed to because I had the cup because it's vital I have the
cup because because because
I am breathing in ragged, heart-thumping bursts and none of
this is helping. I try to calm down and be realistic about the situation. Ok.
Question one: Do I remember the address that was written on the cup? I know I
looked at it a bunch of times, but did I actually absorb what the words on the
cup actually said. I reach back into my memory, trying really hard to bring the
address on the cup into focus. But all that comes to me is that she doesn't dot
her " i"s with little hearts. So there's at
least one lowercase "i" in the address. Which helps
me not at all.
Question two: Do I remember where I put the cup at Thwacker's place? No. Nothing so specific as "where" but I definitely have a very strong feeling that
it is there. Probably it's there.
I start to hyperventilate again. No, no, knock it off. I
need to take this step by step. Gather information, move forward based on that
information, assess, repeat .
"What time is it?" I call out.
A pause. "Almost
three."
Ok. Three o'clock. That's plenty of time. I just have to go
over to Thwack's, find the cup wherever I hid it, get the address and move on
from there. It's not part of my original plan (which now that I think of it I
never actually made a plan, but that's even better because now this is the REAL
original plan), but that's what I will do. And everything will be fine.
So bolstered, I dress and brush my teeth again and put on
shoes and drink a glass of water and make sure I have everything I could
possibly need for the last nine or so hours of existence. The thought of this
doesn't bother me overmuch, for some reason. I've never really thought much
past the next nine hours anyway. This time will just be the final run. I've
just got to make this one count.
I glance out the window. It's still relatively quiet, or
seems to be from what I can see. Ape-Head is still MIA, and the TV in his
apartment now just shows static. His window is open, one of the curtains moving
softly in the breeze. This makes me uneasy somehow. I go into the living room
and head for the front door.
"Hang on, mate, I'm coming with," Zee says. He's
pulling on his battered work boots.
"Uh, Ok. But I'm gonna be
moving pretty quick."
"Yeah, yeah," He grunts as he crams his foot into
the
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