The Great Gig in the Sky

A conversation.

“Trevor, we need to talk.”

“Oh christ, what’d I do now?”

“Don’t give me that shit. I’m not your girlfriend, I’m not here to nag you. We should just discuss things, you know? Make sure everything is in order for your new situation?”

“I withdraw my previous comment, but reserve the right to approach your proposition with all due caution.”

“You talk very strangely sometimes, you know? That’s a good place to start. Why do you talk like that?”

“I read Dune when I was eight. Took me a month and a half, and I didn’t understand a damn thing. I think it had a serious effect on me during those formative years.”

“Ok, my fault. Too specific. Trevor, why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“Hey god dammit you know I hate that question. You fucking tell me, you’re a woman. Far be it from me to speculate on the motives and mysteries of you weird creatures.”

“You’re such a sweetheart, too. And classy. I swear, we must all be blind and brain dead to not throw ourselves at you in the street.”

“Now you’re talkin’, darlin.”

“You’re deliberately avoiding the point, here.”

“Fine fine fine sorry. You bought the beer, you choose the topic.”

“Let’s try again. My point is, on paper you’re quite a catch.”

“Hmm.”

“Think about it. You write, you play guitar, you speak another language, you’re funny…”

“I’m clean, employed, disease-free, acquitted on all charges….”

“See? Exactly.”

“So I’ve got a good resume. That’s not how this works. Obviously.”

“Obviously. And you’re capable of being endearing enough to interact with girls. You’ve got plenty of girl friends.”

“Wait what?”

“Girl(space)friends.”

“Space friends.”

“GIRL (SPACE) FRIENDS, you know what I’m talking about so shut up. Stop being difficult.”

“My bad. I retract all previous guff.”

Anyway, so we know that’s not the problem.”

“Check.”

“And I’ve seen you be nice.”

“You’re a dirty liar and if you call me the N word again I’m gonna… do bad things. Send threatening letters, or doorbell ditch or something.”

“Remember when you bought what’s her name flowers…”

“OK Stop now, we don’t talk about this for a reason. Those were darker times.”

“And those sweet letters…”

“AND WE’RE DONE. We’re all young and stupid once, but some of us adults achieve the common decency not to constantly bring up old shit. Hint Hint.”

“Regardless, I’m saying it’s within the scope of possibility for you to actually be a decent person when pressured. That’s the point.”

“I’ll submit, only in the interests of time and efficiency, not because I admit a damn thing.”

“You do do some mean shit though.”

“The hell you say. I thought you said I was a sweetheart.”

“I was exaggerating. I get that from hanging around with you too much. Anyway, we need to think big picture here. Like, what do you want out of life? All in all?”

“Let me think.”

“Take your time.”

“Immortality. A Superbowl ring. Wealth beyond your wildest imaginings.”

“See? That’s not normal…

“An El Camino, red. Pet wolves. Glory and respect. A bitchin’ knife scar. Did I already say immortality?”

“OK stop. A regular person would say something like a house, a family, love, happiness, something like that.”

“I’ve been called a lot of foul things in my day. Hell, I’ve been called a lot of foul things this morning, but regular is not one of them.”

“I’m not telling you you should be normal, Trevor. Normal doesn’t work for you. Maybe a little bit less weird, though.”

“How drab.”

“Hush. You know you’re not nearly as strange as you make yourself out to be. You still go shopping and make Chapelle’s Show references and dance and do laundry with the rest of us.”

“I keep up this banal charade for your benefit, puny mortal.”

“Or maybe you keep up the weird one for your own.”

“Touche!”

“Tell me about your last date.”

“I think it went pretty well…”

“Ok NO. Rephrase. Let me tell you about your last date. A date I set you up on, I’d remind you. I had to hear about you from Alison for two weeks after that whole thing. She’s still mad at me, I think.”

“Alison! That was her name. I had a damn hard time remembering that for whatever reason. She wasn’t that great, by the way. Very boring, very AA from a Community College, if you take my meaning. Had significant hair on her arms, too.”

“Shut up.”

“Yeah OK.”

“Anyway, she didn’t tell me how your date started, but she sure told me how it ended. You jumped on her car hood with a harpoon and no pants on, screaming that she needed some adventure in her life.”

“I couldn’t get the hedge trimmer started.”

“You do not jump on a girl’s car hood with no pants waving harpoon on a first date, Trevor. Hell that’s not even a second date thing. I shouldn’t have to explain this to you. Boring or not, whether she actually does need adventure or not, that’s a big no no. And let me tell you, you find a girl that reacts positively to that kind of shit on a first date, you do NOT want to be with her anyway.”

“It must have been out of gas. I was really disappointed; that whole scene would have been way cooler with a hedge trimmer. The harpoon worked, though.”

“You’re so mean sometimes.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“AM NOT.”

“What about the time you told those chicks in the Silver Fox you were a hitman when they asked you why you were wearing a suit?”

“That’s not mean, that’s cool. They were wasted anyway, who cares. Besides, I told them I was a cleaner, not a hitman.”

“KARMA cares, Trevor. Karma. What about the time you made Sean eat that bee?”

“Hahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahahaha hoooooooooly shit how could I forget that. God damn, I totally forgot about that. Greatest Sunday Afternoon in history.”

“For you maybe, but certainly not for Sean.”

“Ok let’s get this straight, honey, I did not make Sean eat a bee. Per se.”

“Oh yes you did. Oh yes, you did.”

“Did I point a gun at his head? Did I threaten or force him in any way?”

“Not exactly but”

“But nothing. I simply put a bee on a spoon, handed it to him, and made certain suggestions. He ate that bee of his own free will.”

“You cajoled and taunted and badgered him into doing it, Trevor. ‘Just one little bite, Sean. Don’t be a pussy, Sean. It’s just a bug. Sack up, Sean.’ You know what kind of power you have over people like him. It was mean.”

“It was funny.”

“It was funny, but it was also mean.”

“Hahaha god I can’t believe that moron ate that bee. That was great.

“What does that incident say about you? That you’re pushy, cruel, weird…”

“Charming.”

“Manipulative.”

“Supportive.”

“Insane.”

“Sensitive.”

“Ok sensitive? Shut up. Let’s be serious.”

“Ok ok serious serious serious. Look, here’s my serious face. I’m being serious now, we’re serious here.”

“Now your apartment is pretty well decorated. Despite your best attempts. That’s half the battle.”

“What a horribly female thing to say. Why should my stupid house matter?”

“It does. Quiet. If you spent as much time smiling and asking for numbers as you do watering Kahlua…”

“Kahlua?”

“Kahlua? Isn’t that its name? Your weird house plant?”

“CTHULHU! You can not, you CAN NOT mix up Cthulhu with Kahlua. Absolutely unforgivable.”

“Haha, you’re right, sorry. I couldn’t remember his name.”

“Fucking Kahlua… Cthulhu is an elder alien god of pure evil. Kahlua is god damn chocolate milk wine cooler.”

“Haha, ok ok.”

“This sucks, let’s talk about something else.”

……..

“Trevor?”

“Yep?”

“Where the hell did you find a harpoon anyway?”

“Garage sale in Vallejo.”

“Oh. You freak.”

………….

“So darlin’, when are you gonna set me up with one of your friends?”

-T.

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One Response to “The Great Gig in the Sky”

  1. anonymous Says:

    Being in a relationship is overrated. If you’re single, go ahead and enjoy it.

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