Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Biff-lien

“So, wada-lien?”

The question rolled easily enough from Garry Perry but the answer sat square on the tip of Clay Biffley’s tongue. He thought long and hard about the answer and until one sprung to his mind, he sat there rubbing each hair on his chin. He always did this.

Garry Perry could not wait and his heart thumped many beats and spoiled the reflective moment Clay Biffley was trying to have.

“So?”

It was the winter of ’99. Nothing so spectacular happened in the winter of ’99 as to remember it for more than what it was. Many people have said that massive event of ’99 was the turn of the millennium but to give such an auspicious occasion more value than a clock simply turning from one minute to the next, as if the human phenomenon was actually a global phenomenon, was a fallacy.

On December 31, with the day off from work, the two Sloughians had spent the whole day discussing Slough matters when the subject had turned to belief and the millennium.The conversation at some point veered off the road of discussion and went off-roading through the world of aliens.

“So?” Garry Perry pestered strongly.

Clay Biffley smiled and said “id a bee wadever you lika id to a bee.”

“Bud-ahhhhhhh, wha if there bee no thing I like id bee?”

Clay Biffley was more stumped then a clear-cut forest and he began to ponder that question deeply. What if no one gave a hoot about life in outer space?

Garry Perry’s puppy Coloru began messing about on the dock of his home and Garry Perry ran to him, tired from the obscure answers he was getting from the father of all Slough culture, the one and only Clay Biffley.

“Oh a fug-a-loo Coloru. Wada you do?”

Coloru had let himself go all over the dock and the messy colour left was worse than the condition of the Slough booger-coloured waters. Garry Perry didn’t get mad. He couldn’t find that kind of anger for a puppy.

To celebrate the 34th anniversary of Garry Perry’s mothers first vagina vacancy, Clay Biffley bought the wallowing Garry Perry a puppy to bring his spirits up. Garry Perry had become depressed about living alone, saddened by his total isolation from people his own age and people he thought were just like him… well except for the alone thing.

He felt the whole world grabbing his shoulders tightly and dragging him to a dark place.

“Well Garry Perry,” hollered Clay Biffley, “you can-a do do whadever ya wanna, bud I belee that there bee more to dis than be in our eye.”

Garry Perry listened intently to the older man’s words. He had always been right even when Garry Perry thought for sure he was proven wrong. The latest word from Clay Biffley was that the whole world was feeling very concerned about this Y2K virus meant to spread around the world as soon as the clock turned zero. Garry Perry feared his eyeballs would jump out of his skull each time Clay Biffley said the word Y2K. Mostly he was afraid he would never get the chance to meet another person outside of the Slough and would die alone on January 1, forever stuck in the mediocrity of his life. He decided that day sitting on the deck of his raised home that Garry Perry would not die alone.

Walking out the door he bid farewell to his dear Coloru by patting him the head and giving him a smile. He then thundered down the bridge from his home to Dyke Rd and ran down the street.

“Bizarre,” said one of two joggers cut off by Garry Perry’s immediate departure.

“Muddy flatters,” the second jogger said with spite.

There was no plan – None whatsoever. All Garry Perry had in his mind was the will to run to Steveston Highway, the bearlike need to make his presence known, and the blooming idea in his head that he was to meet someone very special that day. He went in to the first store he could find and bounced inside the Wally Market convenience store on 4 Rd.

The only person in the store was a man he knew very well and did not like. Peter Nguyen, Wally Market convenience store owner. Once Garry Perry saw the expressionless face behind the counter, he pulled a quick 180 and was about to ditch the store when Peter Nguyen screamed “Stop you fieff!”

Garry Perry froze.

“I not robbery,” said Garry Perry.

“Leme check you out then, ok?” Peter Nguyen said, his hands patting down the lonely dove. His hands were thorough and particular, cupping at both the side pockets and the back pockets. Garry Perry’s heart raced and said very firmly, “I likey tuni sandy, no peady butter!”

“Oh you like the rest of the muddy flatter, huh. I’m watching all you come to my store. None of you work, I never see you leave the flatters. You are like aliens or monster or some freaky thing,” Peter Nguyen said walking back to the counter. “Now get out!”

Garry Perry returned home, his heart broken, his soul gone.

Sitting alone his home, his heart pounding slowly, Garry Perry thought to himself what life would be like dying all alone, his eyeballs falling out and no one there to pick them up. Before he could think of the answer Clay Biffley walked through the door…

“You wanna see-lien? They in the blacky-verse!”

The clock struck zero.

He rushed outside to sit beside Clay Biffley, two lawn chairs sitting side by side.

“And Y2K?” Garry Perry asked as stars striped the winter night sky

“CPU works,” Clay Biffley said in as simple an expression as man can.

2 comments:

Crabmonster said...

Oh, bringing back the sloughians. Every time you write these characters you step it up a couple notches.

"The conversation at some point veered off the road of discussion and went off-roading through the world of aliens."

"Clay Biffley was more stumped then a clear-cut forest"

"Garry Perry thought to himself what life would be like dying all alone, his eyeballs falling out and no one there to pick them up"

These are excellent lines, so says I.

benzo369 said...

Thanks man.