Mr. Bad Man raised a clumsy glass in the air. “Here’s to the drunken fighter of love and justice!”
“Nooo.” I replied. “You don’t fight for love and justice.”
“I’m not drink.” he said. “I mean drunk.”
I nodded again. “You are a drean munk.”
Me? A monk?” He started laughing so hard I feared he would explode. That would be messy. Imagine explaining it to then neighbors. “Only if you were a nun.”
“A nun with a gun who still got some. I’ll raise a toast to that.”
The glasses clinked together as the ornate doors burst open.
Who goes where?” Mr. Bad Man called out. It must’ve been getting late; the room was near completely dark.
“Do they air this on tv?” I asked, to no one in particular. “ I don’t ever remember seeing this kind of thing. I imagine that I would have remembered seeing this kind of thing and this is not the kind of thing I have seen.”
Imprezza emerged from the shadows. “This doesn’t get aired. This is probably one of those episodes that don’t really do much to advance the plot.”
I nodded. The room was beginning to spin.
“It’ll probably end up as bonus footage on the DVD though.”
“Graaand.” Mr. Bad Man drawled.
I giggled.
“What the hell is going on in here?!” Suddenly Camry was right in front of my face. I resisted the urge to kiss him as he sniffed at my breath. “Damn girl, how much did you drink?”
“A lot of a little bit.” I flashed him a smile.
“A little bit of a lot.” Mr. Bad Man corrected.
“What he said.” I tried to keep myself from laughing and ended up with a mix between a high-pitched snarf and a guffaw. Everything was hilariously funny. Even the fact that the floor was too close was humorous. The idea that Camry wanted to protect me from Mr. Bad Man and, in all honesty, from myself would have been funny at the moment but it didn’t hit me for another couple of hours. By that time I was sober and chasing a woodchuck in my closet. Long story.
“So what do you plan to do after you’ve taken over the world?” I held my empty wineglass out to Mr. Bad Man like a microphone.
“I think the more important question is what are you going to do after you’ve stopped me from taking over the world?”
I stared at the ceiling trying to think. What was I going to do after this was all over? This is a very difficult question. It’s like when someone asks you about the meaning of life and then begins talking gibberish about mathematical equations and probabilities. I assure you that this is a very exasperating situation and said person most certainly deserves a severe beating. “I want to go to the real world and kill my alter ego.” I said, finally.
“Splendid!” Mr. Bad Man cried. “There should only be one of you in any world, after all.”
Camry stared at me blankly. “You’ve got an alter ego?”
“Well, naturally.” I replied, while absentmindedly waving a hand in the air. “I wouldn’t be me without her.”
“Have you got imaginary friends too?” His voice was just the perfect combination of fascination and sarcasm that for a moment I was almost impressed.
I weighed my options and decided that being impressed would have insinuated that I have respect for Camry. I rolled my eyes instead. Just because I’m drunk he automatically assumes that I’m not logicful. I’m very logicful. Witty, too. I’m an agent after all. “The only friends that I could consider imaginary are those which are soon to be ghosts. If you don’t wish to share in that fate I suggest you keep quiet.”
“You’re hardly one to ta-“
“Shhh.”
“Don’t sta-“
“Shhh again.”
“Zero, you’re go-“
“Shhh times three, even.”
His face was beginning to turn several shades of red.
“If you don’t cu-“
“Shhh to the fourth.”
“Zero! You’re askin’ fo-”
“Shhh and shush.”