The Place---Chicago
The Time---1934
The Cast of Characters----(in order of appearance)
Christopher (Babyface) Kirkpatrick
"Fat Lou" Perlman
Juju (Mad Dog) Timberlake
JC (Twinkletoes) Chasez
Joey (Muscles) Fatone
Lance Bass, Cub Reporter
...and a Supporting Cast of Dozens! (What would we do without unpaid volunteers?)
* * * * * * * *
The waitress sat their sodas down on the counter, along with the paper wrapped straws. Chris smiled up at her, suddenly wishing his forehead was transparent, so she could respond to the screaming panic inside his brain.
"So, Mad Dog, let me just ask you---how's Fat Lou doing? He's pretty good, I guess? Not harboring any unnecessary grudges, or anything?" Chris hoped he wasn't babbling: dogs could smell fear, he'd read that someplace...
"Fat Lou?" Justin repeated, as if he'd never heard the name before.
"Your boss. Fat Lou Perlman. Round guy with a shiny head. Tried to attack me the other day. YOU know...."
"Ohhhh....PERLMAN." Mad Dog just shrugged. "He's okay."
"Does he ever talk about me?"
It did crazy things to Chris' stomach, to hear Juju's demented giggle.
"He--he---he talks about you a LOT!" he choked out.
"He does?"
Timberlake smacked the table with his hand, and tried to stop laughing.
Chris swallowed audibly. "What---what kind of things does he say?"
But Mad Dog was through being forthcoming. He just sat there, and shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to stem the hysterical laughter bubbling up from inside him. Chris reached a shaking hand, and picked up his straw. He ripped it open with his teeth, and, without thinking about it, blew the wrapper off the straw. It gently bonked off the wall, and landed on the table next to the salt and pepper shakers.
For some reason, this completely entranced Mad Dog. He abruptly stopped laughing. He picked up his own straw, tore the wrapper off, and blew the paper tube at the wall, mimicing Chris' actions perfectly.
Meanwhile, Chris had put the straw in his drink, lowered his head, and began to drink. Why does everything have to remind me of work? idly ran through his mind, as he sucked at the ice-cold soda. He looked up to see Justin now drinking from his own glass as well.
"So, Mad Dog. Let me ask you---what do YOU think about me? I mean, we're friends, right?"
Eyes gleaming, Justin leaned forward, and raising his voice timber just slightly, he asked Chris, "So, Mad Dog. Let me ask you--what do YOU think about me? I mean, we're friends, right?"
Chris raised his eyebrow.
Mad Dog raised his eyebrow.
Chris sighed.
Mad Dog sighed.
"Somebody just shoot me, " Chris said.
"Somebody just shoot me," Mad Dog repeated.
Chris sat back and studied Mad Dog and thought about his options. It was interesting at least to watch Timberlake's mobile face duplicating each fleeting expression of his own. Do I really look that intense when I'm pondering something? Chris wondered. Aw, hell....what in the world am I gonna do? How can I get away from this psycho? Damn him and his freakishly long legs. He'll always be able to outrun me.
Hmmm. ALWAYS?
Chris waved their waitress over. She noticed that the blonde gentleman echoed his friends motion. Must be hungry!
"Yeah, what'll ya have?" she asked, pencil poised over her orderpad.
"I'll have the Lumberjack Luncheon special, extra fried potatoes." Before she could turn to Timberlake, he repeated Chris' order.
"Okey-doke, that'll be two. Be right back."
Chris amused himself making faces, while they waited for their order. He even said things like, "That Kirkpatrick--he's a king among men." and "NOBODY wants to see Babyface get hurt---everyone LOVES Babyface!" and every similar sentiment he could come up with. Dutifully, Mad Dog parroted each one.
When their order arrived, Chris made a big deal of relishing the meal. He watched Timberlake stuff the food in, as "ravenously" as Chris pretended to. Because Chris misdirected Mad Dog's attention now and then, sliding his food down to the capacious pockets of his enormous coat whenever Juju wasn't looking, Chris actually ate only about a fourth of the food on his generous plate.
"Oh, man, that hit the spot!" he said, looking at the bare plates in front of him. "But for some reason----I'm still hungry!"
Chris waited for Juju to parrot all that, very politely he considered himself to be, and then motioned the waitress over again.
"Say, doll, can we do all that again? Can you bring us another order?"
Her eyes widened. "Uh, sure."
"And you know what? Also, bring us the steak-and-eggs platter, throw on a baked potato or two, and uh, I know we'll want dessert, so how about some of that apple pie a la mode, and---lots of black coffee." Chris grinned at that last thought, and barely noticed Juju's hurried repetiton of his words.
It took all of Chris' skill at mis-direction, but since he'd gotten paid in magic lessons from a horny-but-broke Malto-the-Mysterious last year, he knew exactly what to do. Slabs of steak, both of his baked potatoes, handfuls of green beans all made it to the bottom of his overcoat pockets.
Chris cocked his head at Justin. He stated, "Boy, this food is great." Juju looked up at Chris blearily. His eyes were glazed over, his jaw was slack. The hand holding the fork inches from his mouth was shaky. Mad Dog mumbled, "Ziss---foo---isss---grrea-eat...." A loud belch punctuated this statement.
"And I LOVE the apple pie. Yummy." Chris took a small bite.
Mad Dog looked like he was about to cry. "And I---love? the, the apple? Pie?" HIs mouth sunk into a miserable pout. "Yum. Mee."
"I just can't get enough of this black coffee, either," and Chris feigned throwing his head back and swallowing the whole cup at one gulp.
Yep. That did it. The straw that broke the camel's stomach. Chris jumped up, shrugged off the coat, and ran out the door, the alarming sounds of Mad Dog's helpless retching spurring him on. Briefly, he felt a stab of pity for the waitress, and everyone within the sight and sound of Mad Dog's explosive regurgitation efforts, but---hey,it was all about survival, baby!
At the corner, he slowed down enough to spare a glance backwards, and was horrified to see Mad Dog stumbling after him! What the purple hell? Mad Dog would fall, heave a few times, and then scramble to his feet, before he fell again, and repeated steps one through three.
"I bet he'll be mad," was the only coherent thought rattling in Chris' mind, when he turned, and got set to make like a jackrabbit again. But he was caught up in strong arms, that held tight. In a blind panic, Chris shot out a fierce right cross, hissed, "Let me GO!" and shook off his captor. He once again took off like a shot, and was out of sight within moments.
"Babyface?" Twinkletoes rubbed his jaw, and stared after him in amazement.
