Desirous of Everything at the Same Time

Chapter Three

If I calculated the number of hours I put in searching for Adeline Martin on the Internet, they would probably equal to a larger quantity of time than that I have utilized for my studies and extracurricular activities. The reason I attributed so many unoccupied minutes in my virtual investigation was not because I was obsessed or fixated with trying to find a girl who did not want her identity accessible to curious cyber scouts such as myself, but because I spent most of the aforementioned free time waiting for my Google searches to load properly. In an effort to still maintain their hippie origins, my parents only went on the Internet for work purposes and subscribed to the most inexpensive telecommunications providers as a result of their lack of utilizing it. The service that my parents paid for was Pioneer Communications, and to quote the technologically savvy and fluent Devon Marshall: "have no idea in hell what they're doing and aren't 'pioneering' anything." Whenever I became too infuriated with my computer to tolerate it anymore, I walked to the McDonalds downtown to use their Wi-Fi, which was supplied by AT&T, or as Devon called them: "a lesser of two evils."

That Monday after school I skipped the step of going home and struggling to use the Internet on my desktop and proceeded directly to McDonalds. When I arrived, I ordered a McChicken sandwich with no mayonnaise and a bottled-water, and then sat in the only booth with no promotional posters impeding sunlight from penetrating the window. I connected my smartphone to the McDonalds Wi-Fi after accepting an agreement that I would not look for or look at pornography while using their network, or something like that. I opened Facebook and dived headfirst down the rabbit hole known as "mutual friends."

Before I could make any substantial progress in my research, my phone beeped to notify me that I received a text message from Devon: "Are you coming over for 'Crappy Movie Mondays?'"

"Crappy Movie Mondays" was a monthly event Devon and I instituted for watching movies that were "certified rotten" on RottenTomatoes.com every first Monday of the month.

"Sure," I responded via text message. Even if indulging in second-rate cinema was a flawed plan to keep my mind off of Adeline, it was still worth a try. "What are we watching?"

Devon almost instantly replied back: "I just downloaded 'Mass Hysteria' with Nicolas Cage!"

"Mass Hysteria" was a film that Devon and I had anxiously wanted to watch since it came out in select theatres earlier that year. The movie followed Nicholas Cage as a Catholic priest who is excommunicated from his church on the grounds of compulsive gambling and seeks vengeance by murdering the hierarchy of leaders while they are conducting the Sunday service and the Eucharist, hence the hilariously offensive title of the motion picture. In the eloquent words of a film critic who wrote a review of the movie for The New York Times: "It is so bad it is good."

"I'll be over in a little bit," I texted, "I'm in the middle of something."

"Where are you?" he responded to my message inconceivably fast, "are you searching for Adeline on the Internet again?"

"Maybe..." I replied.

"Where are you at right now? Are you at McDonalds?" He asked.

"Yeah," I returned, "Do you want me to bring you something?"

"YES!!! I'M STARVING LIKE A BLUE WHALE IN A OCEAN DEPRIVED OF KRILL!!!"

"All right, McMarshall, right?"

"You know what daddy likes!"

The "McMarshall" was a customized sandwich Devon frequently ordered, consisting of a double quarter pounder with no pickles, extra cheese, McNuggets between both of the patties, and honey mustard drizzled on top. I never fathomed how Devon consumed these calorie mammoth items without his arteries imploding when he a) always refused to go to the gym with me, and b) spent most of his free time watching movies or playing video games, sitting in a black commander gaming chair that he treated like the dignified captain seat of a military vessel.