Forty-four Sounds Profoundly Dark and Empty

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The hardest part was getting him to drop his pants, turn around and pry open his cheeks. I'd been an auditioning stripper by comparison. The look of horror on his face was just darling.

"Do what? What are you, some kinda fuckin' pervert?"

Shocked. Offended, I say. A bit rich coming from one of the Boyz. Then he tried on a bit more menace. From up there at thirty thousand feet I was utterly indifferent.

"Look, it's up to you. You've got it. I can read it. Or you can get the guys looking for you out on the street to help. Maybe they have someone in the cells who can check out your ass for you."

I could tell he was frantically contemplating a leap for my throat as a last resort. Then there was a thumping at the door. Fists. Probably attracted by the lights still on out front. Silence. Then a more insistent pounding. Perfect timing. I slipped into my best pseudo-coy look.

"Shall I answer it?" 

His face must've been growing weary of assuming all those expressions. Now it was abject bewilderment. He was desperately trying to triangulate his position adrift in the flood of madness spawning madness. First came the crazy flashing light. Then came the cops. And now here was little ol' me. And all I wanted him to do was a) drop 'em and b) spread 'em.

Wait for it. Hold yer fire. Wait for it. Ah there it is! Resignation. He stood up, turned around, dropped his pants. Then his underwear. Then he leaned forward against the back of the chair.

"Sorry. Can't see a thing. You'll have to crack 'em open."

While he wrestled with his dignity and balance, I wrestled with a lack of writing materials. The gypsy had, or encouraged me to think she had, something at hand. I didn't and couldn't. And soon he'd be looking back over his shoulder to see what I was up to. Then my pocket started to buzz gently. My cell phone on vibrate. Forgot I had it. I pulled it out and saw I'd just received a text. From Alice. Wow, even my local service provider was unconsciously conspiring with me.

<Where r you sweetie?>

<At the office.>

<What? You don't work.>

<Just kidding. At the library. Little quiet reading.>

<What?>

<Kind of an ancient text.>

<What? Like the bible?>

<Sorta. Like self-help. Might save someone's soul.>

<Not yours. Too late. Evil bastard. Ha Ha.>

"You done yet?" the kid asked over his shoulder. He was getting irritated. Wondering if he'd let himself be sucked into something compromising because of his desperation. Oh, did I recognize that tone. He was done to a turn.

<Love ya. Be home soon.>

"What you doing with that cell? You're not taking pictures, are you? You better not be taking any pictures, asshole."

That one made me smile. Eventually. I was distracted by an interesting discovery. If I took the tip at the bottom of the diamond gently in my fingers and twisted, the facets would click by one by one. Like an old t.v. channel changer. When I stopped his words started projecting as a silvery, menacing robot with piercing red lasers for eyes. It raised a mechanical arm and pointed a metal finger. Its laser eyes flared.

'YOU-BETTER-NOT'

But its voice was less than convincing. Cartoonish, even. Sounded like a jaw harp speaking in some barely intelligible twangy dialect. Then suddenly its arm fell off and hit the ground. So it raised the other one.

'BE-TAKING'

Then that one fell off too.

'ANY-PICTURES'

Then a leg fell over and the robot collapsed in a heap. The laser eyes started rolling around pathetically in its head. Which started to smoke.

'ASSHOLE'

It burst into flames then the whole thing disappeared leaving an agitated young man still sitting directly across from me.

"Don't be silly," I said dismissively, "it's not a cell. It's my special translation device."

I slipped the phone back into my pocket.

"Well then," he asked with faux peremptoriness, "what'd it say was wrong with me?"

He was ready for the coup-de-grace.

"Can't tell you. It's a secret code."

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