“But seriously, though. Batman is way cooler than communism. I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”
What a dumb ass. I can’t tell who’s stupider, me or him. Yeah, he’s saying it, but I’m listening. Come on, Greg, you know better than this. The next time Bill calls, you’ve just gotta say, ‘No thanks, I don’t feel like going out today.’ Simple as that.
“First off, there’s the suit. I don’t see any commies having a suit that cool.”
But no, I’ve got to go out and have a life. If I stick around at home, it’ll look like I’m moping over Tracy dumping me. I don’t really care that much, it’s not the end of the world here.
“And then there’s Lenin. I don’t care what your name is, you’ve got to admit the Dark Knight is much cooler than that sorry son of a bitch.”
Jesus Christ, what is this asshole talking about? I swear to God, sometimes I just wish he’d get hit by a bus or something.
“Then there’s the cold war, that’s just nonsense.”
Why does he always drag me out to this neighborhood? It’s got to be the most run down, crime ridden area in Brooklyn. There’s a drunk right there, passed out already, and it’s only 2 in the afternoon. What’s that noise?
Much to Greg’s shock and dismay, a toilet had fallen on Bill’s head. He looked around in horror to see that there was no help to be had, the only other soul nearby was the wino. At this moment, a crazy thought entered his mind.
You know, nobody saw this. And he’s definitely dead. There’s not really anything you can do. Maybe you should just leave.
The wino stirred. Greg was beginning to feel more and more apprehensive about being there. He got up and started jogging to find a police officer, or something, anyone who could help. He stumbled over some debris before regaining his balance, picking up to a sprint. He rounded the corner to discover an empty street.
Damn it, where did he get that ticket last week? Who gets a ticket for jaywalking in this city? That street was crawling with cops. Did it even count as jaywalking if the walk signal is letting you go? Right then, he ran right into two police officers.
“Guy… toilet… head… crash… dead… quick!”
“What? Damn it, Johnson, that’s what the noise was! Come on, pal, let’s go!” Greg motioned them to follow him, and they were off.
When they returned to the scene of the accident, they discovered everything as expected, except that there was no body under the toilet.
“What the hell happened to Bill?”
The wino’s name was Clancy, and his life was sad. He couldn’t stop drinking. That’s really all he remembered. But that’s still sad.
He was just resting after a night of piss poor whiskey when he heard a terrible explosion. He woke up with a start to see a mangled body under what seemed to be a toilet. The dead man’s companion started running off when he saw Clancy. “How convenient,” thought Clancy.
As soon as the man was out of sight, Clancy pulled his little shopping cart up to the body. These organs would get him quite the pretty penny from someone he knew. If he could just get the body to Old Man Murphy soon enough, he’d be drinking in no time. He had to work fast.
He managed to pick up some of the bigger chunks of remnants and toss them into the cart. He threw in what looked like an arm for good measure and was on his way. He had just passed a screaming woman and an irate teenager when he realized he was pushing a shopping cart full of bloody meat around in broad daylight. He pushed the cart into an alley behind a supermarket to look for someone with some cover.
His mind raced as the whiskey was showing signs of defeat. Jimmy slept nearby, and he had a fine blanket. He tripped over Jimmy before he even finished his thought.
“Jimmy, gimmie your blanket and I’ll buy you something.”
“What? Yeah, take it, I won’t need it where I’m going.”
Not pausing to question whatever the hell that was supposed to mean, Clancy raced back to the alley with the blanket in hand. When he got there, he was in for an unpleasant surprise.
“Who the shit just steals a body?”
Tom was happy working at the Quality Foods Market. He had been manager for the past two months and aside from some smart aleck teens working for him, his job was satisfying. He was just inspecting the vegetables when he heard a strange whistling from a few blocks down.
“Hey, Murray. You hear that?”
“Yeah, probably from the construction down on 75th, nothing to worry about.”
Tom nodded his approval and went back to the vegetables. As he was nearing the carrots, he realized that the dumpster was still locked from the night before. A few weeks ago, a homeless man had passed out while rooting through the dumpster and went unnoticed into the truck. The media that ensued had intimidated most of the local businesses to lock their dumpsters at closing.
Tom went out into the back alley to unlock the dumpster when he discovered a most unwelcome prank. “Fuckin’ teenagers,” he muttered under his breath. Some of the soon to be unemployed dick head youths working for him had tossed a good bit of decent beef into a shopping cart and left it there. He pushed the cart back around to the meats section. No sense in wasting good beef.
“Hey Murray, I got some fairly decent beef over here, just give it a cleaning and put it on the shelves, ok?”
Murray pulled up the cart without so much as a glance before shoving all the meat into a sink.
A few hours later, Greg walked into the market. Tracy had called him and surprised Greg with an invitation to a barbeque that night. The possibility of getting back together with Tracy would take his mind off the tragedy of that afternoon, so he was looking to make a good impression.
“I’ll have a pound of your finest ground beef,” he said to Tom.
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