Another Fine Monday Morning

     Alvin knew he was running late. But there was little he could do about it.
     Then again, maybe he could do a lot.
     He could call up his buddy Joe and tell him he was going to be a little late, apologize profusely, then dash out of the house and along the streets. Or he could forget the call and save time, simply get into the car and fly. He looked at the phone and thought about Joe.
     Best to just get moving.
     So that's what he did.
     He imagined Joe sitting at the curb in front of his house, seething with anger, silent, waiting. Alvin had promised him a ride to the campus, but he hadn't counted on a few certain things, like a couple of restless nights worrying about life and some important but missed lover's phone calls. And now he was late.
     But maybe there was nothing to worry about.
     Then again, maybe there was.
     He was late, after all.
     Joe would definitely not be happy with that. Of course, Joe wouldn't show it--not if he could help it. But Joe was just a little too transparent, and Alvin had known him for far too long and knew him far too well. They'd been best friends since before junior high. Alvin knew that Joe would be angry. In fact, he could easily guess that Joe now sat with his chin in his hands, his elbows on his knees, frowning furiously at the mud in the gutter and the blooming, peeking pink roses in the garden across the street. His thoughts were probably already running to violence, and if they weren't, they soon would be.
     Oh, they soon really would be.
     He knew Joe; he was like a Saturday morning cartoon when he was angry. And he would become a Saturday morning cartoon on this fine Monday morning because Joe was going to be very, very angry.
     And he had every right to be.
     The long-gnawing guilt had Alvin gripping the wheel and accelerating, the familiar scenery going by in a gray-blue morning blur outside his windows, the white indicator slowly moving clockwise before his eyes. Thirty. Forty. Fifty. He disregarded the twenty-five residential speed limit and flew.
     Today was not a good day to make Joe mad by being late.
     He should avoid it if he could.
     Then again, why bother?
     He couldn't.


     Where the hell are you, Alvin? I've been sitting on this curb for half an hour, pal, and you still aren't here. I mean, I'm late enough for class as it is, but nooo... you've got to do things all out and make me even more late. I swear to God, Alvin, you know what kind of teacher I have. And you know how he is with tardy students. Man, he's going to kill me when it comes to grading time. But what do you care? You don't have an early class. You don't have to endure my Nazi teacher's punishments. But I do. I have to take whatever it is he's going to give me, and it won't be a quiet evening watching sitcoms, buddy. No. When you're late for Mr. Gookin's class, it's like selling your soul to the devil. You've got to suffer come payback time.
     Perfect. It'll be the perfect end to a perfectly terrible weekend...
     There you are... finally, you and your stupid little white Hyundai. You just wait and see, Alvin. You're going to get it from me, you'll see. You'll be sorry you ever--
     What? Oh, hey. No prob. You're not that late. Well, hell. You'd better be really sorry. I'm so late that by the time I get to class, the white rabbit will be there, right next to the king of heartless teachers saying "Off with Joe's head!" Hell, I'd probably even get dropped from the class. If that happens, buddy, I'm going to stick my fist up your nose for sure. Great ending for a great weekend, really...
     Yeah, I'm sure. And I'm not angry. I mean, I said it was okay, didn't I? So it's okay. Don't worry about it. I mean, it's not as if being late is the worst thing in the world. It isn't as if it's the worst thing that's ever happened to me. I could think of a million other things worse than that--getting dumped by my girlfriend, for one. Now that is the worst thing that could ever happen--to anyone. And if it didn't just so happen with me last night, maybe I wouldn't be so damn angry about being late. Hell, I probably wouldn't even give a damn. Nah, man. Being late is just Cool Whip on the Jello--a lot of extra junk, if you know what I mean. And if it weren't for the fact that I got dumped for another guy, I wouldn't even be angry at all. No, if all she did was dump me because she didn't care for me anymore, I wouldn't mind. If all she did was dump me because I didn't treat her right, I wouldn't mind. And even if all she did was dump me just for the sake of dumping me, well, hell, let the witch go. I wouldn't mind a friggen bit.
     But, no. The girl dumped me for another guy.
     Maybe it's that Kevin guy who's always hanging around, or Michael--or somebody. I know there's another guy, and I'll find out who it is.
     "There's no one else," she said. "There's no one else." Friggen witch had the nerve to lie to me. I know there was someone else. Sheila always did have trouble lying to me. I just don't know who the guy is yet. Don't know why anyone would want her. It's not as if she's the gem of the crowd or anything. Dull brown hair and boring brown eyes. And she can't sing worth shit. Wants to be a singer, my elbow. Don't even know what I saw in her. Tells the corniest jokes, that girl. You ought to know, Alvin. You never liked her in the beginning, anyway. Got mad every time I dissed you to go out with her.
     Damn it. I swear, if it's the last thing I do, I'm going to find out who this guy is, and I'm going to commit some major homicide. That'll teach him to steal my girlfriend...
     No. Nothing's wrong. What makes you think something's wrong, huh? Nothing's wrong. I swear, you could really get on a guy's nerves. First, you come by late, and now, you're getting nosey. I mean, so what if you're my best friend? You ought to have the courtesy to, at the very least, wait until I feel like talking about the whole business. I mean, it's not like I'm ready for you to say, "I told you so." It's not like I'm going to give you the chance to be smug. No way, pal. You just go ahead and keep on driving. I'll just sit over here on shotgun and stare at the friggen road like an idiot because I don't want to talk about it, man. I don't want to talk about it. Right now, I'm so mad, I could run my fist through this stupid window. Right now, I'm so furious, I could strangle someone. Right now, even the mention of her name makes me so angry, I could--
     Sheila? Oh, she's fine. We're fine. The whole damned world is fine. And my name is Joe Isuzu. Would I lie? Whatever gave you the right to ask about her, anyway? It's not as if you even like her. Do you think I would tell you anything and everything that happens between me and her? Ha! Think again! It'll be a happy day in Mr. Gookin's class before I tell you anything...
     Don't be sorry, Alvin. I didn't mean to snap at you, really. I'm just pissed off about something, that's all... But you just see if I tell you what it is. Because I'm not. In fact, I'm pissed off about Sheila. She just dumped me last night. Can you believe it? She just dumped me last night!
     Well, hell.
     I just went ahead and told you, didn't I? Alright. All friggen right. Go ahead and say it. I told you so. Come on. Tell me how stupid I was to fall for her. Tell me how wrong we were for each other. Go ahead, pal, and get it over with because as soon as you're through, that's it. I'm going to... I'm going to do something you'll regret, and I'm going to... hell--I don't know. I don't know what I'm going to do. But go ahead and say it anyway. Go ahead and get it over with...
     Well?
     I just told you the most tragic news to hit the western hemisphere, and you're just sitting there staring straight ahead of you. Sure, pal. Freeway traffic is really exciting. Why don't you say something? Huh? Scared to say it? Scared to say "I told you so?" Scared I'll get mad? Or don't you know what to say?
     Well, hell, Alvin. I don't even care what you say. Just say something, man. Well? Aren't you going to say something?
     Oh, great. Good. Clear your throat. That's wonderful. Keep looking at that stupid Cadillac in front of us. When I said for you to say something, I meant for you to say something. I don't want to hear you cough up your phlegm, Alvin.
     Huh? Oh, don't patronize me. Sorry isn't what I want to hear, buddy, and especially not from you.
     No, I don't know why she dumped me. No. Wait, I take that back. I do know why she dumped me. She's been seeing another guy, that's what.
     That's better. Now you're acting like a best friend should, asking me about my problems without getting smug.
     No, she didn't say who it was. She wouldn't even admit that she was seeing someone else. But that doesn't matter, does it? You and I know her for what she really is. We both know she was lying to me when she said she wasn't seeing someone else. You're on my side, and we're going to kick butt. The guy she's seeing, he's hamburger. The girl's an lying witch, but he had no right stealing her from me. That guy will pay. Yeah, we'll get him, whoever he is. We'll be partners in vengeance, partners in justice, partners in...
     What? What do you mean how do I know she was seeing someone else? I just know, that's all. Are you saying all this purely for conversation, Al? Because if you are, I am not amused. I mean, I thought you were on my side. I thought you understood. Now you're doubting me? Come on, Alvin. Don't you think I'm right about this?...
     'Yeah but' nothing. She is seeing someone else, Alvin. I know it. So you don't have to defend her for my sake or anything. I know you hate her. You don't have to be nice about her in case I change my mind about her--because I'm not. Remember, you hate her. You're on my side. Sheila is seeing someone else.
     What am I going to do? I'm going to find out who the son of a bitch is, that's what.
     Then? Well...
     Then I'll kill the guy, that's what. He's getting what's coming to him. And I'll just bet that it's Kevin. She's always saying how sweet he is to her. But I could be wrong. Chicks seem to like Michael better. Maybe it's him instead. I don't know. Maybe you could help me find out who it is. Maybe you could kind of spy on Sheila for a while and see if--
     What? You've got something to tell me? Geez, Alvin. Don't even try to talk me out of this, alright? This is something I've got to do, and I'll do it even if it means--
     Okay, okay. Fine. I'm listening. You don't have to cuss or yell at me. I'll hear you out like you said. But I'm really not in the mood to listen to one of your little sermons or--
     Yeah, yeah. I'm paying attention. Jesus, Alvin. Whatever it is, just say it, okay? I've got better things to do than--oh, shit. What the hell are you looking so worried about? Aw, man. You look like you know who the guy is. Don't tell me you knew all along who the guy was and you never said a word. Christ, Alvin, that would be the worst thing you could tell me right now. That would be like a--
     What? Say it again. I think I just heard you wrong. I thought you said--
     WHAT?! Damn you, Alvin! I can't believe you're actually telling me this. You're the guy who's been seeing Sheila?! I can't believe you're actually telling me this. You're supposed to be my best buddy, and here you are, telling me that you've been seeing my girlfriend behind my back. Here you are, telling me that you're the one who stole her away from me. I mean, what kind of friend are you anyway? What kind of friend are you, sneaking around and dating my girl? My girl? Tell me that, will you? I thought you were my best friend!
     Say something? Say something? How's this? I thought you were my best friend! And don't you tell me that you are my best friend because best friends--true friends--don't go around stealin' their best friend's girlfriend.
     Oh, yeah?... Well, true friends don't go around stealing their best friend's girlfriend! Jesus Christ! I thought you hated her! All this time... To think! You were the guy I was so hot on beating up! My best friend! Some best friend you turned out to be. Some best friend indeed. Know what? I'm not even going to say anything. I'm not talking to you at all. In fact, I'm not speaking to you again for as long as I--
     You didn't mean to take her away from me? Oh, ho!... That's a sorry excuse if I ever heard one. Some best friend you turned out to be. I mean, guys don't go falling in love with their best friends' girlfriends. They don't, I tell you. They don't. It's just not right. It's just not fair. And I don't care if you did fall in love with her and she fell in love with you. I don't even care that she doesn't even love me. You're not supposed to take your best friend's girlfriend. You're not supposed to take my Sheila away from me. It's wrong, damn it. It's wrong. And I'll make you sorry you ever did it.
     You're sorry?! Ha! That's a laugh!
     You feel bad? You feel bad? Oh, great! And how do you think I feel! I'm the one who got dumped, remember? And I got dumped for you! You! So if you think "feeling bad" is going to get you off the hook, you're wrong. Dead wrong.
     And damn it! Why the hell am I still speakin' to you?
     I swear, as soon as we get to school, as soon as you park the damn car, as soon as we get out of here, we're going to settle this once and for all. We'll get it all out, in the parking lot, where everyone can see...
     God damn it. Quit speakin' to me. I'm not listening to a word you're saying. I'm not, I tell you. Not one bit. And I'm not saying a word either. Not a single word.
     Good. There's the school parking lot. Park the damned car and get out because as soon as your feet touch the ground, I'm going to hit you real good. Then, that's all you'll ever see or hear of me again. That's all, period. Yeah, you'll see, I'll hit you bad--no, I'll hit you real bad. I'll really beat you up, so bad you're going to want to sue me. I'll skin you alive and roast you over some hot coals. Then that'll be it. That'll mark the end of our friendship, bud. You'll see. You'll be sorry. You'll be sorry you ever messed with me and my girl--
     What? God damn it, I spoke again. But what in the world are you saying? You want me to hit you? You actually want me to hit you? Now there's a funny one. You deserve a punch in the face? Well, I can't argue with that, but...
     Damn it. I was going to hit you, but I can't hit you now. Not now. You just ruined everything! You want me to sock you so you'll feel better--and now I can't sock you.
     Argh!
     And quit looking at me with those guilty eyes, damn it. I don't want to look at your sorry face. In fact, I'm getting out of here...
     There! I hope your Hyundai won't recover from that slam I just gave the door. And don't you--
     Damn it, don't you follow me, Alvin! And quit apologizing... and don't look at me like that. I hate it when you look at me like that. I don't care if we've been best friends since even before the seventh grade. I don't care if we swore to be brothers in life. I don't care anymore, man. You betrayed me. You took my girl. You made me late. You made this the worst day I've had in my entire life. And now I've got to deal with Gookin.
     God! But this is another fine Monday morning. The best friggen Monday morning I've ever had.
     Oh, now you're askin' me if we can at least still be friends? Ha! That is so funny. You sound like a girl getting rejected. Hell. I don't know. How do you get rid of a brother? How do I get rid of you? Damn it, Alvin. Don't make me think about all this now--not when I hate your guts for taking what's her name. I don't care if we've been through a lot together. I don't want you around anymore. I don't. I really don't.
     Or do I?
     No. No, I don't. You took my girl, and I--
     **WHAM!** Boy! Does that feel good. And from the way you're holding your bleeding nose, I'd say I broke it, too. And don't look so surprised, Alvin. You asked for it. You took my girl, and you asked for it. That's all there is to it. That's really all there is to it. I don't care what we've been through together. I don't--
     Damn it all.
     Go to hell, Alvin.
     Besides...
     I'm late for class.


     Alvin leaned against his car, stunned. One calm hand held his nose to his face, as though he were an old Mr. Potato Head who would lose his parts if they weren't held close to him. The other hand, trembling and wandering, felt at the sticky wet blood that invaded his mouth with a warm metallic taste. Oddly enough, he had the biggest sinus headache in all of history. Alvin couldn't see how; he wasn't allergic to pollen or dust, and he wasn't prone to colds.
     But there it was, and it hurt like hell.
     Maybe it was the blood.
     Then again, maybe not.
     Alvin decided not to think about it and began walking to the nearest building in sight. He thought about Sheila with her glowing golden brown eyes, her lustrous hair. He thought about her voice, low and honeyed, high and sweet, with a range broad enough to allow her to sing the sultriest alto and the purest soprano. It helped him forget about the bulldozer that was stuffed up his nose, the train that was piled atop his head. It helped him forget his pain.
     He couldn't understand how Joe could ever take Sheila for granted. She was the kind of woman any man would appreciate: attractive, intelligent, fun, humorous. He remembered being jealous of Joe because of her, remembered feeling a little outraged whenever Joe treated her carelessly. Those were the only times that he failed to overlook Joe's shortcomings--his selfishness, his ignorance, his thoughtlessness. He had always ignored Joe's faults before because they had never seriously interfered with their friendship. Until now.
     Ah, Joe.
     Alvin wondered how Joe could hit him so hard. True, he felt guilty enough to welcome any pain, any blows that Joe could throw his way, but he hadn't expected it to be such a hard, hard right to the nose--through the nose, it seemed. Well, at least now he felt completely absolved of any guilt. The pain had driven it all away.
     Or perhaps it was only hiding the guilt.
     Then again, perhaps not.
     The truth of the matter was that Alvin hadn't expected to get hit at all. His claim to Joe about wanting to get hit had been meant to serve two purposes, and two purposes only. One, to absolve himself of some of the guilt, simply by saying that he wanted Joe to hit him. Two, to prevent Joe from hitting him at all.
     But his dime-store psychology hadn't been worth even a dime. His asking to get hit only got him just that--a blow to the face, a very hard one. Forget reverse psychology.
     Joe was not a normal, civilized man.
     He was a caveman out of Prozac.
     The pain returned doubled, and Alvin wondered briefly if his nose might be broken, wondered whether it would fall off if he let it go.
     No. Couldn't be broken.
     It was different when guys in the movies got their noses broken. Alvin was sure that it was.
     Then again, he could be wrong.
     Like any other human being, he was often wrong. Perhaps he was wrong in presuming that Joe could never be good enough for Sheila. Perhaps he was wrong in even letting himself fall for her, his best friend's girlfriend. Perhaps he was wrong about dating her behind Joe's back.
     He winced at his pain.
     Then again, perhaps not.
     He felt his nose at the bridge and whined at the nuclear explosion set off in the middle of his face. The cartilage seemed to be no longer fully connected to the bone, and it made a strange blood-sucking noise when he gently pulled at it, like shit-squashers--French for clod-hoppers, he thought vaguely, irrelevantly--sinking into the mud. The sensation itself was not exactly great. In fact, it made him dizzy. And it made him wonder if he had ever had a worse Monday.
     Probably.
     He thought about it, tried to recall a worse Monday, slowly shook his head.
     Then again, probably not.
     Today was probably the worst Monday in his entire life, probably even the worst day. Yes. It was definitely a terrible Monday. No need for second thoughts this time. It was pretty damn bad, shit-squashing nose and everything.
     After all, didn't he just lose his best friend? The pain in his head seemed to answer that in throbs. Didn't he?
     Yes, boom-boom. Yes, boom-boom. Yes.
     That was the last thing on Alvin's mind before the throbs went away. The last thing he thought before he finally fainted. The world seemed to turn and buck, and he was like a rodeo man without insurance thrown from the back of a demon horse. Falling.
     And then all was black.