 |
| ONE NIGHT IN BUMBLEFUCK by Wren It was 3 in the morning, Mountain Standard Time in Bumblefuck, Idaho. Lolita was lighting a much-deserved Marlboro Red after roughly fivehours of beer-runs, bitchy, impatient customers, and drive offs. "God I fucking hate people." Lolita said without discretion. Nobody was around. If anyone were still up it were the tweakers, and they're at home making phone calls to obtain their next fix. Just then, a stranger approached her. He looked like he hadn't had a decent meal in days, nor a bath. Lolita couldn't differentiate between a heavy five o clock shadow or filth on his face. "What'cha need, man?" She greeted everybody the same way. It was a convenience store for christ sakes, they only care what the clerk says if she refuses to sell them beer or cigarettes. "Talk to me." the stranger said. He had an affected accent over another accent so she couldn't tell the origin. She couldn't think of anything to say so she held her pack of cigarettes to him. "Want one?" "Thank you." He said quite peacefully with a tinge of relief in his voice. "Dude, I could hook you up with something to eat if you want. The boss doesn't give a shit." Lolita offered as she took her last drag and threw the remaining across the parking lot. "That would be good, thank you." "Sure, come in." As the stranger walked in, he noticed that music was playing through a semi-broken stereo. It sounded extremely familiar but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Lolita observed the quizzical look on his face as she fixed him a couple chili dogs. It wasn't then until she realized who was standing before her. She spilled hot chili on her wrist. "Fuck! Sorry! Excuse my language." "Are you alright love?" The stranger rushed to her aid, suddenly losing his affected accent, now sounding clearly Welsh. "It's fine really, it's happened before. It's better than having the damn bag explode while I put it in the machine." Lolita chuckled. "There you go." The stranger casually inquires "What are you listening to anyway?" She froze. If she told him would he run away? She didn't want him to run away. For fuck's sake, a man in his condition wouldn't survive very long. She was deep in thought when the stranger snapped her back to the present. "What is your name anyway?" "Richey.." she whispered without realizing. She was in space for about two seconds when she clasped her hands over her mouth "FUCK! Lolita. My name is Lolita." The man gave her an odd look. "Are you sure now?" "Yes!" She laughed "Yes, I'm sure. Let me get you a drink. What would you like?" He eyes the soda fountain next to the Slurpee machine. "Well, shit, we've got quite a variety don't we? I think I'll go for everything in one cup." He grabs a Huge Gulp and fills it with a little bit of everything. "You never told me what you were listening to." He hasn't run away yet. I don't think he cares anymore. Does he even know where he is? What the fuck is he doing in Idaho? "You might've heard of them." She stuttered. Oh, God! Is that the best you could do? "Yeah, I got that but I can't figure it out." She sighed. "Do you promise not to run away if I tell you who?" To which he laughs. "I'm still here, aren't I?" Yeah, after calling him out two minutes ago and him not running away yet... "This is the Manics' new album. It was released last year." "Mind if I hang around and listen?" Incidentally, the song "Cardiff Afterlife" came on right after she turned the stereo up. "I think you should dig the lyrics in this one. I gotta restock the freezer, keep an eye out for assholes okay?" Richey nodded as he hungrily wolfed his chili dogs down. Three minutes later, she emerges from the freezer finding Richey slumped in front of the register counter, his face fallen. "That was written for me, wasn't it?" Lolita looked at him, tears welling up in her eyes. A barely audible "Yeah," emerged from her lips. He sighed heavily. "It's been so long though. Will they forgive me?" "God!" She spun around throwing her hands up. "Have you read the news? Your family misses you to death, and don't get me started on the band. They've released one album which may have had some songs to do with you, but this one that you just listened to was truly a call for you. They want you back, more than anything, Richey...Richard..." "I don't have any money." "I do. We'll call the Welsh police or whatever they're called and you'll talk to them. They've had so many sightings and spottings, of course they're unconfirmed, so they're not going to want to hear from another person saying 'I found Richey! He's out here in Idaho' And you haven't even been declared legally dead yet, according to the press." "Really?" He looked up. His eyes seemed to lose their hollowness. "But shit, how do I go about this privately?" "Yeah, you're right. You are a celebrity there. We'd have to get a hold of your family, or one of the band members. I know according to news releases that James lives in London now, Sean's in Bristol...I'm not sure where Nicky is. I think he still lives in Wales." "What else did the news say? Come on, fill me in." "They're all married now." "No shit? James got married?" Richey laughed, looking up. "Holy shit." "Yeah, and Sean too. He's got a kid now." "It's so sad that I'm getting all this information from a random fan...in this place, where seemingly nobody's heard of us..er..the Manics." He looked down, kinda smiling, but at the same time you could tell it hurt. He had stopped considering himself a member of the band a long time ago. "Yeah, they keep your share of the royalties in a trust fund. They all believe you're alive and I bet they're eating themselves alive over you. I mean, they're still living and all, but...let me explain you this." She sat down next to him. "Not very long ago, a friend of mine committed suicide. For a few days, I couldn't believe it was real because it was not officially confirmed. I only knew her on the Internet, and she was from Canada so I didn't get any proof until someone called a funeral home in Newfoundland to confirm. Two days, Richey. Two days of not knowing the fate of a dear friend of mine. I had to work those two days. I couldn't get her out of my head. It was royally killing me. I don't know how to describe the pain, from what I know you've experienced the death of a friend. Imagine no confirmation of that death for ten years." Things fell silent until Richey started weeping. Lolita wrapped his arms around him. "You can end the pain. They love you and want you back. It's going to be strange and kinda scary, I know. But the fact that you didn't run away from me, knowing that I know who you are, tells me that you're ready to go back. You don't want to fuckin' stay in Idaho. There's nothing here. Look what I do to pay the rent, and believe me, that's all it does. The only place I get anything to eat is here. Sorry. I'm rambling. Look, you can hang out here, my boss doesn't give a shit. If you wanna sleep on this, you can come home with me in a couple hours." She hands him some tissues. "I know it hurts, Richey. I really do. I'm not just saying that. I really do." She gives him another warm embrace. He leaned against her as if he didn't want her to let go. "You know what? I might be batshit insane, or this could be from three straight days of no sleep, but you look extremely tired and this is no place to turn in." She hands him her keys. "It's the apartments just in front of the store, room J-73. Be careful, I have cats. Don't let them out whatever you do. Just go ahead and sleep in my bed, there's no one else there but cats. They're nice cats too." God, Lolita, shut the hell up. "Don't lock the door, those are my only keys. "Promise me you'll be there in a couple hours?" Richey asked, almost despondently. "If the jackass shows up, otherwise I'll call." Two hours later, she walked in her scant tenement slum she called her apartment and noticed a note on her phone. Her heart sank until she took a closer look at it. Lolita sank deep in her chair, her eyes fixed on the note, enhancing that last sentence on that note. She jumped and restrained her jubilance so that her new friend wouldn't be disturbed during his last few hours in the United States. She dropped the note and picked up the phone. One of her cats nuzzled the note and looked as though he was reading it. "Call these numbers and then wake me up. You three are coming with me. You deserve better than this." THE END. <<< Wren's stories |