Mickey - The View From Here PART TWO - Gallavich

Stop The S...Just Stop

*WARNING AND APOLOGIES FOR THEMES AROUND THE JANUARY SIXTH RIOT AND POLITICS. I TRIED TO KEEP IT LIGHT. IF YOU WANT TO SKIP THIS CHAPTER TO AVOID POLITICS, PLEASE DO. I DECIDED TO INCLUDE IT BECAUSE I FEEL IAN'S IDEOLOGIES ARE A BIG PART OF WHO HE IS, AND I WANTED TO EXPLORE HOW MICKEY VIEWS IAN IN A SITUATION LIKE THIS. THANK YOU FOR READING*

By the time Ian and I were browsing furniture at the rental shop, Frank had already resurrected and disappeared again. Probably off to find a more potent dose to off himself. I couldn’t really blame him. Dementia was a mean bitch that left one alone and scared. I told Ian to shoot me if I ever got the same diagnosis.

I was beginning to get the feeling Ian was in a mood, seemingly irritated with me. He had dropped enough hints about the date for me to realize he hadn’t forgotten our anniversary. In reality, Ian was pissed off because he was under the impression I forgot.

Good, I thought. My plans really would be a surprise. I couldn’t wait to see the irritation in his beautiful eyes turn to stunned relief when the big reveal came about. Doubt nagged at the back of my mind, of course. I hoped my surprise would please him, but what if it wasn’t enough? Maybe I should have stolen something nice for him or figured out how to take him on vacation. Would a celebration be enough when he deserved so much more?

But I was stuck with the plans I had made. So, I would let Ian think I forgot our anniversary in hopes that he would be completely blown away. If he wasn’t, I was sure I could make it up to him in bed.

“Yo, check this out!” I grinned as I settled into a comfortable easy chair. “Perfect height for a blowie. Leatherette, too, easy to clean up afterwards.”

“Hey, $29.99 a week for the whole set,” Ian observed as I discovered the remote to the chair I was sitting in. I pushed a button and the chair began to rise. “I wonder if that’s an everyday price or because today’s the 21st.”

Not so subtle hint, Gallagher.

“Oh, shit!” I exclaimed, redirecting the conversation back to a chair I now wanted as it rose and tilted until I was in a standing position. “Look at this thing, helps you stand when you’re too fucked up!” Standing, I looked the easy chair over. “Awe, man, we gotta get one of these.”

From behind us came a timid voice. “Can I help you?”

At the sight of the older woman, Ian was hesitant as he read her shirt. “Yeah, my, uh…husband and I need some stuff for our new apartment.”

Eager with questions, I jumped in. “Hey, you got any mattresses that do that, like, lift-up thingy?” To Ian, I said, “I can get my ass in that position you like.”

The shop lady's nametag read Dot. She furrowed her brows to break the news, “adjustable beds? Oh, unfortunately, no.”

Now, in case you haven’t guessed, I didn’t give a fuck about politics and conspiracy theories. I had my fill of that bullshit growing up with Terry. So, when it came to the current political climate, I was oblivious. This was why I stopped Dot before she walked away and inquired about the message on her shirt. Stop the Steal.

Clueless, I wondered, “Oh. Hey, someone stealin' something? Kind of hard to imagine anybody walkin’ out the front door with one of these big-ass chairs under their coat.”

Perhaps to help me save face or simply to shut me up, Ian explained, “stealing the election, Mick.” Turning back to Dot, Ian brushed the politics away and got back to business. “Look, if we wanted to rent something, do we need to sign, like, a form or something?”

“Are you interested in a living room or dining room set or both?” she asked Ian in a pleasant tone before sending me a glowing smile. “The president won in a landslide.”

I didn’t care. Once Ian cleared up what her shirt was saying, I lost interest.

My husband, however, countered with, “I agree. Biden won in a landslide. Living room set.”

As though she was trying to convince me, Dot claimed, “the election results were hacked by communists in Venezuela.”

In disbelief (mostly because I wasn’t aware of all of the conspiracy bullshit surrounding the most recent election), I simply uttered, “shit.”

Despondent at the state of society, Ian questioned, “Venezuela? What the hell have you been smokin', lady?”

“Where the fuck's Venezuela, anyway?” I asked Ian, growing more confused by the second.

Dot proceeded to spout what Ian later called “QAnon bullshit" in an attempt to talk “sense” into us.

At first, Ian was calm in his corrections to her ramblings, but as the conversation proceeded, both Ian and Dot grew more heated until Ian snapped. “Okay, and where the hell were you on January sixth, Eva Braun? Were you storming the capital with a fuckin' hockey stick?”

I was aware of the riot and almost-coup. From what Terry taught me about leaders in history, I was straight up shocked that no one was hanged for the attempt to overthrow democracy. The footage only served as a reminder that humans don’t learn from history. All of the answers are there, yet willful ignorance led to citizens storming their own capital to kill officials. These people still claimed to be the good guys. Hadn’t anyone figured it out yet? There are no good guys. The greater good? No one fucking cares. It’s every man for himself.

It was easy for me to ignore the politics and talking heads, but Ian had a harder time. Being as idealistic as he was, it all wore him down. He wanted to believe in the greater good, in competent people, in safeguards. He wanted to believe America was what it always claimed to be, the land of the free, home of the brave. In the past couple years, he had seen too much proof to the contrary. We were free, but so was everyone else including bigots who liked to drive through parades or shoot up schools and places of worship. As for home of the brave…well, you can’t be brave when you are ignorant to consequences and repercussions. What cut Ian the deepest was that most of these people would otherwise be innocent if not for the thralls of propaganda being blasted at them from every direction.

Ian tried to explain it once to me. The whole world is in a bad state. People are scared, and it’s been so long since WWII. The lessons learned at that time were extremely valuable. Yet here we were, around 80 years later, doing all the wrong things that we know lead to genocide and war. I couldn’t let it bother me, I had to focus on my own little world, but it bothered Ian. And I didn’t like it when he was bothered.

Ian tapped me on the shoulder when he and Dot were almost yelling at one another. “All right, we're getting out of here.”

In realization that she had just lost our business, Dot tried to call us back with, “first month's free, and we have same-day delivery!”

Pissed off, Ian replied, “no. Gotta go. We can’t be late to the Zionist sex-trafficking cabal meeting at the fucking Pizza Hut!”

His sarcasm flew over my head as my stomach growled. “Oh, shit, we gettin' pizza?” I clapped my hands together. “Yeah, I’m starvin'!”