When you meet someone you haven’t met for a long time, there are a damned lot of things you can talk about. I mean there’s bound to be some juicy thing you could milk for conversation. I know this, because although I am offensive and self-absorbed, I am never a terrible bore.
This is why, yesterday, someone paid me a small visit in my filthy dark cell. Victor looked okay this time, healthier than the last time he needed my help, and I saw he finally gave up on the goth costume. And the retard wanted a bit of chat. For entertainment. And advice.
“So what do you think. Hmm,” the twerp said after spilling his guts. It was something to do with a person he calls Marat Safran Foer. I felt a familiar urge to pound his face into jelly, but there was a hint of worry underneath his gruff tone, so I
played nice tried to be nice.
“I thought we’re clear that I am not your agony-fucking-aunt. And I hate it when you use the funeral-director voice on me.”
“No, Greg, you’re right. You’re not my agony aunt. You’re a figment of my imagination. You’re my alternate personality. You don’t exactly have a choice but to work with me, do you?” He sounded pleased this time. He smoothed a crease in the sleeve of his sissy-white shirt and smiled at me drily.
“It sucks to be your make-believe twin. Or whatever it is I’m supposed to be. Why don’t you just write about this, this thing? Ah, yeah, you did. And then you ended up writing crap that made Linda Blair throw up in her grave.”
“Linda Blair is still alive. She lives in Missouri and has a movie this year.” Then the poor dude just stared stupidly at me like a cretin, and I knew then that I just outdid myself in crushing his ego in not more than four sentences.
If I knew how to be guilty, If I had been programmed to be nice to him, I would have said sorry. But, man, it was a chance for me to be out of this godforsaken cage again.
So I said nothing and just stared at the empty space above his head, until he stood up from his chair and walked out the door without another word. He didn’t bother to lock me back up on his way out and left the set of keys on my bunk bed.
From the looks of it, his condition is serious. First time I ever saw him like this. Which means I’ll be around town for some time.
Oh, boy. I’ll be having myself a lot of fun.