I live across from a dying neon sign that says “seafoo.” It flickers through the blinds, making my bedroom/living room look like a makeshift torture chamber. The only way I can get any sleep is by leaving the TV on infomercials all night.
Mike and Carla came to visit today. Carla goes straight for the fridge.
“The beer’s not for dragon ladies!”
“Shut the fuck up!” her squealing voice is consumed by the frosty Dos Equis house.
“Yeah. Shut the fuck up!” Mike hits me upside the head. It doesn’t bother me much that Mike hit me. I deserved it, after all. It bothered me that the bitch didn’t come over here and do it herself.
After a couple hours of drinking and watching T.V., we start commenting on the way that fat chick’s voice sounds on Operation Repo.
“She says stuff weird,” I say.
“She looks weird, too. Who cares, man?” Mike kills the last of my beer.
“Sounds like white trash. Ain’t she Latina?”
“You sound like white trash.”
“Hey. Fuck you.” I say. “I’m Chinese, bitch. Ain’t no white trash in my house.”
“Oh, right.” He and Carla look at each other and I know its trouble. It’s like two pieces of flint trying to start a fire, except the flint is two morons.
“Ah soo. Ching chong ping pong pow! Belly good. Me likey fat ratina. Likey berry much!”
I hit Mike in the face with a bottle. The bottle doesn’t break, but his jaw does.
Days 3 through 48
Bought some more beer. Life is good. The room is flickering green. I turn on the T.V. and it feels like I’m winning.
Mike came by today.
“Been a while, Mike. Long time no see.”
“No shit, dick! You broke my jaw! I had to have it wired!”
“Yeah, but I paid for it.” I couldn’t see what he was getting at.
“But you broke my jaw! I just got the wires removed last week and it still clicks!” He had his jaw clenched, which was probably bad for it. I’m not his mom, but I did pay to fix the thing. He could take a little better care of it.
“And now you’re here. Did Carla kick you out again?”
“No! I just wanted a formal apology from you.”
“Did Carla send you for this ‘formal apology’?”
“No! Well, yeah, but still… you owe me an apology!” His eyes darted around,
“The couch is all yours, man. You really need to find another girl, you know that?”
“Hey, you shut your mouth! Carla’s an angel, man! A fucking angel!” His jaw popped like a firecracker. “Ow! Fuck!”
I put a bottle to my lips. I’m not his therapist, either, but I did pay for that couch he always sleeps on.
Mike is keeping me up all night talking on the phone. I get sick of “I’m sorry, baby,” but then they start shouting again. I can hear her voice screeching from the phone. He must be dating a velociraptor.
“Can you guys keep it down?”
“Man, I can’t help it! I’m having a crisis here!”
“Fuck, dude. Just go over there and apologize in person.”
Carla burned down my apartment building this morning. Mike must have said something wrong.
The hotel I’m staying at smells like cat piss. There’s a red sign across the street missing a third X. I turn on the TV but there’s nothing good on. What I really need is a drink, but Mike took my last one and his girlfriend burned my place down.