Sueth

ENTRY TWO: A Ghoul, a Sooth, and Some Kind of Alchemist

The Next Day-

     The universe has a terrible habit of not telling you if something is actually important. You could be on your way to a job interview that feels like it is going to be the moment the changes your entire life, only for it to end up just being an awkward waste of time. Inversely, a kindly middle aged gentleman could be ringing you out for a milkshake at the local Pit Burger and you'd have no way of knowing that in 2 days, due to a completely unrelated series of events, he would be chasing you through the desert behind the wheel of a rusted out old prison bus.
     Well ok, that's hardly fair. It wasn't technically him chasing us. He was just along for the ride, trapped in his own body by a force he'd never have fathomed was even capable of existing.
     I've never had a promising interview before, but Donny and I were buying a milkshake from a very kind middle aged man at a Pit Burger. And sure enough, we would eventually find ourselves crossing paths again.

     Donny still smelled like a puberty ridden locker room. After a day of soaking in a inflatable children's pool filled with Bloody Mary mixer he had managed to dull the effect enough to make an appearance in public. Heads still turned in judgement, but it was no longer at a biohazardous level.
     "What do you mean they discontinued the bacon milkshake? That thing was amazing," Donny sulked. The infamous 'Wake'n Bacon Shake' had been his sole reason for existence for the past year. While the questionably mixture of grease and dairy had been too much for me to stomach, it singlehandedly fueled him into the battlefield of daily life.
     Now, the spot on the menu board that had boasted the improbable existence of such a beverage sat empty. Bare fluorescent bulbs shone through the yet-to-be-replaced focal. This had not been Donny's week.
     "It wasn't selling, so corporate pulled it," the middle aged manager explained. Genuine or not, he was far too upbeat for somebody in his line of work. His well groomed hair and cleanly shaven face perfectly matched his spotless work uniform. Even his name badge appeared to be polished and well maintained. This man had his life down to a science.
     "You still sell milkshakes?" The twisted cogs in Donny's brain began to turn.
     "Of course we do."
     The manager gave a gesture towards the long list of meatless milkshake flavors that still remained.
     "And you still have bacon?"
     Donny put the pieces together slowly and clearly. He held up a finger in each hand to represent the two essential components in his upcoming hypothetical scenario.
     "Yes we still have bacon. It's on about half of our signature burgers. Could I interest you in the Eggs Over Cheesy burger? That has bacon both on the burger and cooked into the patty. We're encouraged to refer to it as an 'aPORKalypse' of flavor." He gave an exaggerated hand gesture miming a theoretical mushroom cloud of fast food horror.
     "So how about this? I buy a milkshake, and a side of bacon? Then, when you go to make them both you could just happen to drop them into the same cup? You know, accidentally." Donny's hands collided together and his one finger "jumped" onto the other hand. His eyes locked onto the man behind the counter. Fire burned in those eyes. Deep, brilliant, bacon deprived fire.
     The manager insisted for a moment that it was not company policy. Donny refuted this argument by doing the trick with his hands a second time. He punctuated it with finger guns for added effect.
     Eventually, like most people, the manager caved to Donny's persistence. A large cup filled with vanilla milkshake and bacon hit the counter top. Donny showed his gratitude by dropping whatever loose change he had, and a guitar pick we had found while cleaning, into the plastic tip jar beside the register.
     "You're the man," he fired a few more shots out of his fingertips, each accompanied with a "pew pew" sound effect.

     As we left Donny couldn't help but notice the old menu photo for his beloved milkshake perched against the dumpster. Against my wishes he rescued the worn image of the cardiac nightmare. It was now destined to hang on our kitchen wall. Stereotypes about sexual preference and interior design prowess be damned.
     We made our way home as the sun began to set. The ancient arched street lights flickered to life, filling the sidewalks with the warm glow of old school incandescent bulbs. A gentle hum filled the air with each business sign and billboard that flickered to life. Even the neon of the bars added something to the charm of dusk.
     "So I was thinking," Donny took a long swig of his drink. I braced myself. Donny's thoughts rarely ended in anything Nobel worthy.
     "I thought I told you not to do that," I joked.
     "I know. Bad habit."
     He slumped down on a bus stop bench and enjoyed another long sip. How the bacon ever managed to get through the straw was beyond me. I took a seat next to him and prepared myself for whatever stroke of genius he was about to present to me.
     "Now we have about two and a half bottles of that spray stuff left," he began. Any hope that this was going to be a good idea instantly faded away. "And I know you'd probably argue that we should just throw them away or something-"
     "Well you thought right. We'll throw them away. Good idea buddy," I made a desperate attempt at cutting him off.
     "Nah but there's more. We could probably use that stuff for something awesome! Think of the power that we hold here. Like what if we witness a bank robbery? We could spray down the bad guy and then the cops can just follow the scent to arrest the guy. Or girl."
     "So you're saying we should become vigilantes armed with personal fragrances?"
     "Well I'm not going that far. I'm just saying they could have some use. I've been carrying this one around all day just in case something crazy came up and we needed it." He reached into the left-hand pocket of his worn red denim jacket and pulled out the dented shark-clad can.
     "You had that thing with us all day?" I snapped.
     "Just in case. Something this foul smelling has got to be useful."
     "No, it doesn't. There isn't a single law in the entirety of the universe that dictates that something should have value based wholly on its unpleasant fragrance."
     I took a swing at the can. Mid sip he managed to block me with his elbow. I would have to beat him home, toss the two other cans, then hopefully remove this one while he was either drunk, asleep, or some combination of the two. He returned the spray into an inner jacket pocket and dropped the subject. We sat quietly for a moment, enjoying the cool breeze.