The Skin Changer By Harry J.

Chong
Chapter 0: It Takes Three Kevin scratched his head. "He cheated on her...emotionally?" "Yes, have you never heard of emotional cheating?" said Ivanna. "No," said Kevin. "Well," said Ivanna, "it's when someone is in a relationship, and they have emotions and feelings for someone else. Which tends to manifest itself as flirting." "And why would you do that?" "Self-esteem boost, I suppose. It makes you feel validated, but you kinda look like a tart, if you do it too much." "Okay," said Kevin, "but what exactly is the damage, if you do it?" "It's heart breaking," said Ivanna. "Your partner says 'I love you' then they turn around and say it to someone else. That stings." "Still, I don't think that's reason enough to go out and get schtupped as an act of revenge. What she did was way worse than what he did. How can anyone even compare the two? Saying that physically cheating is worse than emotional cheating is like saying murder is worse than planning a murder. I mean really, I just don't get it." "You have to think about it from each gender's perspective to understand it." "Okay?" "But first you have to keep in mind that each gender, subconsciously, evolutionarily, has the same desire." "And that is?" "Passing on their DNA. AKA genetics." "Right?" "See, the reason a man cares more about being physically cheated on than being emotionally cheated on is because it threatens his ability to pass on his genes. If another guy beats him to the punch, so to speak, and inseminates his lady, that means he'll be raising someone else's kid, and in the process lose out on the opportunity to pass on his own DNA. Which is why men often get their panties in a bunch about what a woman does with the opposite gender." "Right." "However, a woman does not have that same threat. No matter what, even if the man cheats on her physically, through means of her own womb she can always, always pass on her DNA. She has complete control of her 'real estate.' There is never a thought that the child might not be hers. That is not a concern. However, she does have another concern. If her man starts cheating on her emotionally, and falls in love with someone else, that means she will have to fend for herself. Therefore having an undue burden of raising her brood alone, and thus the chances of them dying off and her not getting to pass on her DNA rises dramatically." "Interesting." "This also explains why men don't like M-M-F threesomes."

"What's that?" "Male-male-female threesomes." "So, because the other male is a genetic threat they don't like it? Am I right? Competition for the womb?" "Bingo." "Hrm. Have you ever thought about writing a book, Ivanna?" "What am I an MFA?" "It was just a suggestion." Ivanna leaned back in her seat. "Oh, you'll never guess what," she said. "What?" said Kevin. "Lillian dyed her dog purple on the weekend," said Ivanna. "Really?" said Kevin. Ivanna nodded. "That is the stupidest thing ever," said Kevin, "putting caustic chemicals into an animals fur for your own amusement, and then making it a clear target for predators. How crappy is that? What's worse is the dog's color blind. He'll never get to enjoy it." "Hey, I never said Lillian was a smart person," said Ivanna. "Or a decent human being. I'm just mentioning it's mildly interesting." "Only a tool starving for attention would dye an animal's fur." "I agree. Ladies, if you want attention, stick to getting drunk, and kissing each other in bars, thank you very much." "And flashing your boobs." "You pervert." "Too much?" "No, I'm just kind of annoyed." "Why?" "I'm just thinking. Girl show's her boobs = slut-whore. Guy shows his boobs = totally fine." "But guys don't have boobs." "Have you been to the park lately in this fine weather we're having?" "Okay. Some of them have boobs." "My point is when it comes to nudity we always get admonished for it, while guys get to do whatever they want." "No, not always. It depends on the context. Like if you're whipping out your boob to get a mammogram it is 100% A-okay... Context, context, context, that's what matters. Like sex is okay by most people, if you're in a long-term, committed relationship, but doing it in the highlands with a sheep is not at all acceptable. I believe in Wales they call it 'sheep shagging.'" "Disgusting... Care to share anymore of your thoughts?" Kevin thought for a moment. "Yeah," he said. "You ever notice how things are way better when you get it for free? Like sex, why is it always better if it's free? And furthermore what's wrong with just paying for sex? Hmm?" "I guess people associate it with love, which is supposedly priceless. When you have sex for money, or in a bathroom, it kind of cheapens that ideal."

"Okay. I get that. But everything else? Why is free better? How come people don't like earning things anymore?" "Maybe it's because people are lazy. Or maybe it's a cultural thing. After all, they're always saying, 'Oooh, the best things in life are free!' I guess that makes sense. Right off the bat, I can think of a couple things: free speech, free will, Free Willy, free Tibet, ummm, free food samples." "And don't forget about the free rides we're getting from our parents to go to university." "That too." A head poked out between Ivanna and Kevin. "Would you two keep it down?" it said. "This isn't a library. You can't talk all you want. Why don't you discuss your nonsense later, huh? The presentation is about to begin." "Sorry," said Kevin. Chapter 1: Q&A A tall, handsome, well dressed man, stood before a crowd of enthusiastic people: students and guests of this university, keen on learning the secrets of success. Naturally they were business and econ majors, and aspiring entrepreneurs. Mr. Donnie Underwood looked out into the mass of people, nearly five hundred, and squinted to see the person that had their hand raised high. Yes, you, said Donnie. Whats your question? A moderator handed Eric a microphone. He cleared his throat, slightly nervous. This is sort of a strange question, but Its alright, Donnie gently interrupted. I like strange questions. So came the strange question. Exactly how much money do you have? A large portion of people at this question and answer session were stunned, though Donnie remained unfazed. Heh, he said. Thats more audacious than strange. Why do you ask? Do you want a loan? Just curious, said Eric, about how lucrative the industry is. I have two things to say about that. First, any industry is lucrative if you are the best there is. Second, I have enough money, in dollars, to go from here to the moon. How'd you come up with that figure? I have a vivid imagination. After some giggles another hand shot up from the crowd. Mr. Underwood, Id like to say I appreciate you coming here. Thank you, said Donnie. My question is a simple one, said Bruce, and probably more well thought out than the last. Eric raised an eye brow. Bruce continued. Do you have any regrets? Regrets? said Donnie. I probably should say no, because thatd make me sound like someone who always looks forward to the future, but I will have to say yes. I do have a lot of regrets. Some financial. Some emotional. But the biggest one is not visiting my grandmother before she passed away, the woman who pretty much raised me.

I was busy doing a business deal or something other. I thought it was important at the time. Now the Q&A session began to unravel, becoming more informal. Questions came faster, some without hand raising. Sorry to hear about your grandma, said Cindy. No need to apologize, said Donnie, being a bit teasing. You didnt do anything. Now, what is your question?" Um, yes, said Cindy. She gathered her thoughts. I hope I dont come off as lazy here, I know it sounds awful, but are there any short cuts for success? One, its not awful, and two, I always look for short cuts. Its what you do in business. But the question is: What is the best short cut? Learn from others. Learn from the mistakes of others, so you dont have to go through any of their pain. Read books, read biographies, meet people, and ask questions, just like youre doing now. History. Learn it or you are doomed to repeat it. If you had to name the top five things that were key to your success, said Robin, what would you name? I'll do you five better, said Donnie. I have a list of ten keys to success. Actually, I came in at nine, but I made it ten to make it seem more grand. This was Donnies list: 1) Network. Get to know people. People are your number one resource. 2) Borrow money. Use other peoples money. Youll never be able to save up as one person. 3) Delegate tasks and allow people to work with their strengths, but dont pigeon hole them. Their different background might give them unique insights. 4) Be honest with yourself and know when to face the truth. Dont ever bury your head in the sand, hoping things will just work themselves out. 5) Spend, but spend appropriately. For example, dont buy two scales for your supermarket when you only need one. 6) Cut out all the negative and deceitful people in your life. Its okay to get criticized once in a while, but sometimes some people gotta go. 7) Move your ass. The worst decision is staying in shitsville. Get out. 8) Have a clear vision of what you want. Dont just go out there without any goals. Make goals. Write them down. Work toward something. 9) Work smart. Manage your time properly and make the most of every day. Some of the most successful people in the world only get three or four hours of sleep. 10) Theres only room in the market for you if you make something more affordable, better, or new. You cant just put your arms up and say Me too! What are you giving? Why are you different? After this many more questions came: How tall are you? Who is your hero? Do you plan on having a family? Why is making money so important? Can I shake your hand? Where were you born? What was it like growing up? What should I invest in? The last question, however, was somewhat more potent.

How are you giving back to society? said Jennifer. Donnie stuttered a little. Uh, actually Im not doing anything charitable at the moment. Why the heck not? The moderator, seeing her guest stressed out, tried taking away Jennifer's microphone. Its fine, said Donnie. Thats a good question. Yes, I admit, I have not made any decisions to give away my money. Because, to be frank, I dont feel like I owe anybody anything. I busted my hump to get to where I am today. The thought of giving to charity hasnt yet dawned upon me. Thats awfully greedy, isnt it? How did you get in here? Two men grabbed Jennifer, the impudent girl, and dragged her off while she yelled, Dont let corporations buy our country! Protest nowww! War is imminent! Chapter 2: A Very Early Retirement When the Q&A session ended, Donnie returned to his manor along the countryside. He went into his chambers, after taking off his suit, and sat in his armchair. This was the place where he often thought. He thought about the last question asked to him, then asked himself, Why not give to charity? He knew he was being greedy. Well, it wasnt greedy so much as it was fear. Donnie grew up poor, and was naturally a bit of a money hoarder. He gave to no one, except his employees of which were minimal. This is how he became a success, by being prudent, and careful. Damn it, said Donnie. He didnt know what to do. So, he stood up, and went outside to do what he always did when he had to seriously think: walk. He went outside and went around the exclusive community he lived in. The sun was going down, but there were still people going about. He walked for a while and then sat down on a bench, where he continued wrestling with the idea of charity. Will it actually do anything? he asked himself, and, What if I go into financial ruin? How will I survive without the extra money? At this time two people, a girl and guy, sat beside Donnie to rest. They were well dressed, despite being in jogging clothing. They had on nothing but name brands. While breathing in and out they did not notice Donnies presence. Oh, Jesus, said the first jogger in pink, the one named Jillian. How many more laps?" After this? said Alphonso. Two more. Why do we even need to run? I mean whats the point? Cant we just get liposuction? Nooo! Everyones gonna know. But its such a pain. Do you want to lose weight for the reunion or what? I do, but its sooooo hard. Its not that hard. Ugh, is this what its like being poor? All the hard work!

Please. Dont even get me started on poor people. I hate em. Theyre so lazy, and smelly, and theyre always acting like its so tough. Like, Just get over it. Move on.' They have so many issues. If they just worked hard enough, then they could pull themselves out of poverty. If I wasnt such a germaphobe, Id grab one and shake it and yell, Get your shit together! Alphonso looked at his watch and stood, Cman, we gotta get going. Jillian got up and followed Alphonso, and off they went. Donnie stared at them, incredulously, not sure that he had heard what he had just heard. He crossed his arms, in a contemplative manner, and thought, Is that me? Only a day had passed, and Donnie was in an enthusiastic mood. He went around the hallways of his company, literally his company, and banged on a pot with a wooden spoon. Hear ye, hear ye, he said, come one, come all! Your boss has something to announce that might make you fall! Come to the cafeteria for a meeting, if you dont I might give you a beating! He often joked around with his employees in this manner, so nobody took that seriously, or dared think of a lawsuit. So, all his employees, at least the ones that werent crucial to the operation of the business, gathered in the cafeteria. They stood around quite confused. This was highly unusual and disorderly. Some thought they were having an early lunch, and so they snacked on some snacks. Mostly donuts. Donnie stood in front of everyone, on the little platform ahead, and waved hello. Hello, everyone, he said, youre probably wondering why Ive called you all to this meeting. Well, I have an important announcement to make. But before I tell you what's happening would anyone like to guess? For fun? Are you giving us all a hefty raise? said Chaz. Better, said Donnie when the laughter died down. Im retiring." Everyone looked at each other, not sure what to think. Though most people dont like their bosses, this was a boss they liked. They thought of all the reasons there could be. Maybe he was sick and dying? Maybe he was moving the company to China? Maybe he went mad? Why are you retiring? said Chaz. Youre not even forty. Dont you think its a bit early? Chaz, my friend, my employee, said Donnie, that is true enough. But actually I am going to retire, so that I can pursue my interests in philanthropy. All my life Ive been squirreling away my money, but now I have plenty of it, and I think its time I gave back to society, or if Im arrogant, pay it forward. Someone bumped Chaz with an elbow, then whispered for him to ask another question. Oh, said Chaz, will this in any way affect our jobs? No, not all, said Donnie. He paused. Anymore questions? Does this count as lunch? said Chaz. It did not count as lunch.

The retirement announcement went well. Donnie now prepared himself for a new and less self-centered life. He went into his office to clean it out. He put his hands on his hips, looking around. There wasnt much in here. It was quite barren for what it was. There was a computer, a filing cabinet, and some drawers filled with miscellaneous office supplies. On the desk there was nothing, not a photo, or anything to indicate this place was actively being used. But it was. Donnie obtained a box and put all of his things inside. He took his box, and went into the hallway, and went to the reception area, and placed it atop the counter. The receptionist named Pearl, a lady only slightly older than Donnie, took a second to look up at him. Whats all this? she said. Im retiring, havent you heard? said Donnie. I swear almost everyone was there. Welp, I was busy, said Pearl. Okay, then, well, let me tell you. Im retiring. Thats nice. Arent you interested in knowing why your boss is leaving his comfy CEO position? Not really. Come on, Pearl. Whats with the stiff attitude? You shouldnt leave. I mean whats gonna happen to the rest of us? I bet youre probably going to hire some twiddle head to replace you. Trust me, I will not hire a. Whats that word? Twiddle head. Right. So youre leaving to do philanthropy, huh? Yes. And what are your plans on that? Errr, I havent fully thought that out yet. But I think itll be something to do with poverty. There arent that many poor people around here. This is a pretty affluent area. And that is why I am going down south. How south? Im leaving the country. I have dual citizenship. So it wont be that much of a hassle. Oh, God. Youre not serious? Where are you staying? You know where I grew up? Oh, God. Again with the Oh, God? I know you grew up there, but that place is horrendous. You left for a very good reason. And Im going back to fix it up. Plus its not as bad as it used to be. Sure glad Im not going. Donnie leaned against the counter. Actually he said. Pearl stood up, Are you out of your mind? You cant just pack me along like luggage!

I need you to help me run the charity. Youre someone that I can always rely on. I know youll do a good job. If I refuse? Ill fire youthen Ill offer you this new job. So, I have no choice? Ill give you 25% more than you earn here. 30%. Its a charity. 20%. Donnie said deal and then shook Pearl's hand. When do I start? said Pearl. Ill let you know, said Donnie. After the work day, Donnie went to a restaurant (nothing fancy) and paid the owner and staff to have the entire place to himself; though it was not necessary, as only ten of his employees and his lone Scottish butler could make it. Still a good time was had. They all sat around a table reminiscing about good times. Donnie grinned while sipping his cola, listening to Jackson tell a story about how they first met. "So there I was," said Jackson, "in the middle of the night. A grown-ass man, in flip flops, climbing a tree, stealing apples, and throwing them into a laundry basket. His dog comes out, starts barking. All the lights turn on. Donnie sprints out with a samurai sword -- I'm serious, a goddamn two foot samurai sword -- and he starts screaming at me. So, I jump down, and make a run for it. He throws the Samurai sword like a spear. It goes flying into the ground and I trip over the handle. Then he jumps onto my back and wraps his arm around my neck like a snake. He's yelling, 'Caught you, you stupid...' Well, I can't use the language he used. '...You think you can break into my house and steal my things!?' And I go, 'I was only taking apples!' Then he goes, 'Why would you try to take apples?!' Then I go, 'I'm unemployed! I have a family to feed! I'm sorry!' And then he lets me go and gives me a job. And that's how we met." Good story, said Alicia. Mines more boring. We just met in a grocery store. I bumped my cart into him, and apologized, and then he asked me if I needed any work. Heh. I dont get that. Why do you hire strangers? Yeah, said Jackson. Why? Key to my success, said Donnie. I can always tell a good person when I see them in their natural environment. You just dont get that in an office setting, because people are there trying to impress you. Outside you know what people are really up to. I mean, cmon, is anyone actually work-a-holic? Nope, said Jackson, just an alcoholic! All cheered and banged their glasses together. They stayed at the restaurant until closing. A day off with pay was given. Chapter 3: Good News, Everyone The morning came into Donnies manoras it does everywhereand he was still at his desk, furiously writing an attack plan for his charity. When finished he lined his papers together and put it into a portfolio.

Finally, he said to himself. He went to his Rolodex and went through the tabs, and looked under the letter T. He found the name Teddy. Donnie wheeled his chair over to the phone and dialed the number. He waited with anticipation. Maybe its too early in the morning, he thought. But after several rings, on the other side, someone picked up. Hello? said a groggy voice. Teddy, said Donnie, whatcha up to? Who is this? said Teddy. Your old pal! Michael? No. Im just pulling your leg, man! Whats up? You havent called me in a week. I wanted to get some feedback from you. Yeah. Im starting a charity. Oh yeah? Thats great. Youve always been real tight with money. No offense. Glad to see youre giving back to society. Whatll you be doing? Homeless shelter and a food bank. Everyone deserves a roof over their head and food, right? I agree wholeheartedly." "Yup." "So, where exactly are you building your little shelter? Your place. I think its too small. I mean the city. My city? Our city? The city we grew up in? This city Im in right now? Yes. Donnie could hear Teddy jump -- but not for joy. Have you gone bonkers?! said Teddy. That is a terrible idea. Remember the riots? Twenty people died, aaand they burnt down a church. It dont even matter if youre a charity. I am well aware, said Donnie. But things are changing, and that was a long time ago. Now I want to give back. Or give what I never had rather. Listen to me, and don't get offended. I don't want you to come back. Its not a smart move, man. This place is depressing. Tear up your dual citizen ship, toss out your passport, or whatever, and stay home. Just send some money to UNICEF, if you wanna help. This place is a hell hole." Please. Dont exaggerate. I went down there just last year. Didnt seem so bad then. Flying through the city doesnt count. You have to actually be on the ground for more than a minute. You should see the bridge. Its full of drug addicts. One asked me for a couple bucks, I told him no, and he punched me in the gut. What were you doing there?

Putting out a fire that they started. Like what the hell, man? Talk about appreciation. I dont care what you say, Teddy, I am going to be in your neck of the woods soon. Theres nothing you can do about it. Oh really? Really! Okay, then where you gonna stay? Uh, your house? My house? Just till I find a house of my own. Whaddaya say? Itll be like old times. That sounds real fun, but I only have one bed. Unless you wanna share beds. I can do that. Yuck. Dont kid around. Okay. Ill sleep on the couch. No way! I cant let my best friend sleep on a dirty couch. Ill find you a gently used mattress. Thank you. Teddy sounded a bit anxious. Sooo, when are you gonna get here again? Donnie was cool like always. Maybe in a week? That's so soon. Oh, gawd, I have so much cleaning to do. Exactly how messy is your place? Im a bachelor. Ive been a bachelor for years. It looks like a tornado passed through heretwice! You and your bachelorhood. You need to find a girlfriend. Too busy. Doing what? I have hobbies. Like what? Making model airplanes. Okay, thats not that hard. You can still have time for a girl. If youre interested I know some people. Donnie, do not try to set me up. Women are nothing but trouble. I like being single. I like being a bachelor. Teddy, my good old friend, youre not getting any younger. Obviously, no one is, but you need to settle down. Who was your last squeeze? Doris OBrian. Oh yeah, Doris Double OBrian. Double because shes double what she should be. Thats mean. Don't blame me. I didnt make it up. Right... So! You still slaying the ladies, Teddy? What kind of girls are you into these days? The ones that leave me alone. Not a tail chaser anymore, huh? You know who youre like, I bet? Who?

Jughead. Are you comparing me to a comic book character that likes to eat hamburgers? In the world of fiction he is a unique character. Alright, Donnie, I gotta go. I have work in a bit and Im really tired. Ill see you next week? See you later. Bye. Bye. Donnie hung up the phone. Chapter 4: Memory Lane The next week came. A short flight later, Donnie was returned to his city, the city where he grew up in. He stayed quiet in his seat, at the back of a taxi cab, while looking at all the old sights and sounds. With the exceptions of the parts being refurbished, with government funding mostly, most of it was unchanged. There was: Chans Dry Cleaning and Laundromat, the Quickie Convenience Store, Als Pawn Shop, Als Automotive, Als Cigars and Gifts, (Al was a popular name some years back), Lucky Seven Supermarket, and Chucks Barbershop. Why you so wide eyed? said the cab driver named Mack. You aint never seen a ghetto before? Is it a ghetto? said Donnie. Dont know fo sure. Are we using vernacular or Websters? Vernacular, I guess. It sure is. Look at this place. Looks like a dump. I think it has its charm. You out of your mind? This is a crummy area to live in. You know many times I been jacked in this car? You lucky I picked you up. I wasnt even in the mood. But you looked different from all the others. I look different, huh? How so? You look rich. How can you tell? I think Im dressed kinda casual actually. A couple things about you stick out. Your hair, the way you smell, you dont smell like shit, and even the way you carry yourself. But if I have to pick one, I say your gold watch is the most glaring. Should I take it off? Dont be disgusting. Donnie rolled his eyes, I mean my gold watch. Mack pushed up his Irish tweed cap with a finger, Right, I knew that. Yeah. Take it off. Put it in your pocket. Donnie felt lazy. Ill do it later. Whats the rush? The rush is were here. Are you sure? 62 Fenway Lane. Alright. Thanks for the ride, mack. Thank me with a nice tip?

Donnie smiled and took off his watch. He gave it to Mack. Mack held the gold watch in his hands, checking to see whether it was fake. He inspected it with one eye closed. This fake? said Mack. If its fake its a damn good fake. Its not a fake, said Donnie. But if you dont trust me you can return it, and I can give you some cash. Not an equivalent. Just what I owe you on the meter. Nah, Im feeling lucky today. I think I'll keep it. Good choice, my friend. Okay. Take care now then. You too. Donnie pulled along his only suitcase. When Mack drove off he was left to stand alone in front of 62 Fenway Lane. He breathed in some fresh air and walked ahead. He was a bit nervous to meet Teddy, despite knowing him for nearly half of his life. After all, they were only kids way back when. Nevertheless, he went onto the cracked path and got to the door. Dont be nervous, Donnie thought to himself aloud, with his hand in a fist, ready to knock. Youve known Teddy almost half your life. Even though youve been in another country, youve kept regular contact with him on the phone. He should be the same person he was however many years ago. Then he did it. He knocked on the door. Knock! Knock! The door swung up and there stood a woman with rollers in her hair. Cant you see Im busy?! said Jezebel. I dont want no blasted Watching Towers! Go away! Im sorry, said Donnie, is Teddy there? Teddy? Hes been dead for over five years. Aint no one livin here. You crazy? I just thought that As Donnie was about to reply he heard a whistle. He looked to his right at the next house, and saw Teddy on the steps before his house. Over here, said Teddy while waving. Donnie skipped across the lawn, with his suitcase in tow, and let Jezebel go back to her hair treatment. He went over to Teddy. There was a look of relief on his face. What were you doing over there? said Teddy. I thought that was your house, said Donnie. It is not. Is your address not 62? Yes, it is, but that crazy lady uses my number, because she thinks her number 65 is too close to 66, which is too close to 666, which is apparently the devils number." Oh... Anyways, real glad to see a familiar face. Me too. Let me take your luggage? Teddy reached for Donnies suitcase. Donnie held onto it, refusing to be pampered. No, no, no, said Donnie. I can carry my own suitcase. Im here for a reason. Not just to start a charity, but to get back in touch with my roots. Thats a good TV show, said Teddy. Whats that?

Never mind. Why dont you come in? Dont mind if I do. Teddy opened the door wider to let in Donnie. The two stepped into the main foyer together. While they were both in the same place, Donnie was having a much different experience. This place was a museum for him, a place of history. There were many things that remained from his childhood, in particular the wall of height. Donnie put down his suitcase and ran over to the spot by the stairs, which had two sets of markings. One was Teddys and one was Donnies. They once were trying to see who could grow the fastest. He-he, Donnie giggled, I cant believe you never removed this. Now which one was I? Left or right? Right, I think, said Teddy. Nuts, said Donnie. So Im the one who lost the height race? I really wanted you to win, said Teddy. I even rubbed out the markings when we were little and made yours a little higher. I knew it! I knew something was wrong. I always thought, How come Im growing so fast? I knew I shouldnt have let you done the measurements. It helped your self-esteem, didnt it? More so when I got to the same height as you. "That's not on the wall." "I know, I had a growth spurt when I was away." Actually, I think Im a tad taller than you now. Is that so? Teddy stood in front of Donnie, and used his flattened hand to make an impromptu measurement. He went from the top of his head over to Donnies forehead. Yep, said Teddy, Im about an inch taller than you. Maybe an inch and a half. Nuh-uh, said Donnie. Uh-huh, said Teddy. If you don't believe me, lets go to the wall and measure it. "No way. You'll muddy up the results." Dont you trust me? Not after that bomb you dropped. Okay, fine. Lets see in a mirror. To the bathroom? Teddy and Donnie went to the nearest available bathroom, which was on the first floor, and stood back to back in the mirror. They both scrutinized the reflected image. Im taller, said Teddy. See. I got an inch on you. Clearly. Donnie groaned. Thats your puffed up hair. It doesnt count for your body height. Does too! Hair is a part of your body. Aah, I know where this is going. Why dont you just show me to my room, huh? You do have a room for me, right? You have to see the kitchen first. Ooh, more good memories? Come along, sir.

And Teddy took Donnie to the kitchen, which of course was only a few feet away. They stood in a shiny white room, with a white fridge, white stove, and perfectly white cabinets. Jesus, said Donnie, you mustve done a spit shine on this place. Took me two days, said Teddy. I appreciate the effort. Oh, lord. The memories. I can even smell your moms bundt cakes. Actually, theres a bundt cake in the oven. Were in here for food, not nostalgia. Donnie sat down by the corner table, where there was a little TV hung on corner of the wall. Im ready to eat, said Donnie. Teddy was more than happy to feed his best friend, and got the fresh bundt cake out from the oven and apple drink for the each of them. Donnie savored his slice of cake. He even chewed with his mouth open, something he only did when younger. This is your moms recipe, isnt it? said Donnie. There is no other, said Teddy. By the way, where are your folks now? Seems like theyre always moving. They're currently staying in our countrys wang. Pardon the informal language. Oh, why do old people always go there? I cant stand the humidity. But I sure as heck do like the orange juice. Teddy joked around. Juice? What is this juice you speak of? I always have drink. Apple drink. Orange drink. Grape drink." Oh, Lawd o' mercy. We need to go shopping. Ill get you some real food, huh? On me of course. I couldnt let you do that. Youre here for free. Youre my guest. You know that Im pretty rich, right? Im only staying here for the convenience, and to catch up with you. Man, I cannot tell you what to do, can I? Alright, you can buy groceries, Mr. Rich Boy. And Ill pay for all utilities, and Stop. Its enough, man. You dont need to do this. Youre making me feel guilty. Letting you stay here is my gift. Youve helped me out so much over the years. Donnie joked, but was still serious about his words. Please, let me help! Oh, sir, sir, I beg you! If only youd grant me this wish! Teddy could never win an argument with Donnie. Alright, he said, groceries and utilities, but thats it. Thenk you! And now, will you show me my place in which I shall sleep? The two went upstairs, and came to the second floor. The skylight above let in a copious amount of light. The weather in this city was quite grim, but today it was shining. Hm, said Donnie while looking up, I never noticed that skylight before. Its new, said Teddy. I had it put in after ma and pa moved out. Ive always wanted one, yknow? Its nice. If a thief wanted to drop in Oh, dont be paranoid. Its a ten foot drop. Nobodys crazy enough to go through there. Remember those ninja movies we used to watch? This is nothing.

Yeah, Im sure there are plenty of ninjas around. Teddy kept on walking, letting Donnie follow from behind. He took him to the third room at the end of the hall. Not the first room as that was Teddys and the second was for storing junk. In it were boxes of old magazines, clothes that could no longer fit, and other miscellanea. Voila, said Teddy, presenting Donnies bedroom. "What do you think?" The bedroom had white walls with a blue 60s racing stripe going all the way around. It was rectangle, like many rooms, and had a big bed in the middle. The bed took up most of the space, leaving little room to move around. Nonetheless... This is great, said Donnie. He went and sat on his bed. Is this new? You noticed? said Teddy. Awww, you went all out. I had to. The other mattress had pee stains. Sorry about that. It was my first sleep over. Apology accepted. So, how much exactly did this mattress cost? Teddy sat on the bed with Donnie. You are not going to give me any money. But I always give you money, said Donnie. Come to think of it youre pretty much the only person I give money to. Aaand I want to owe you back. So, this is all out of my own pocket. Please dont take away my little gifts. Let me have some pride, huh? My little non-blood brother is finally growing up. Im older than you. A month! Thats a huge difference, isnt it? Sarcasm noted. Oh, hey, you know what I havent done in a while? What? Pillow fight! Its nice to have you here, Donnie. Youre my best friend in the world, and youve always been there for me, but I think were a bit too old for A pillow was suddenly hurled into Teddys face -- and then the battle on the bed began. Feathers went into the air. The next day, after a long rest of eleven hours, Donnie awoke in bed. His travel alarm clock read: 7:00 AM. He rose freshly, and went to the bathroom, did the usual, and changed his clothes. He went to Teddys bedroom and knocked on the door. Knock! Knock! Rise and shine, said Donnie. Donnie was always chipper in the morning. Yo! Teddy opened his door a crack, just enough so his eye could be seen. What is it? Im going out and I thought you could come with me. Im exhausted from the pillow fight. Plus Im on the night shift now. Aw, man. Yeah. Sorry. Its okay. Youre a fireman. Thats cool with me. Donnie tried peering into Teddys room. Hey, can I see inside your room?

Uh, why? said Teddy. Im curious. Id rather you not. I have Its a mess. You didnt clean up your own room before I came? I like it the way it looks, but Im embarrassed to show people. Donnie tried barging in, but Teddy was strong enough to hold him back. Stop, stop, said Teddy while grunting. Youre not coming in here. Pleeeease, said Donnie. Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! Donnie stopped pushing. Aw, fine. Youre acting like theres a torture dungeon in there. Maybe there is. Okay. I think Im going to go now. See you later? Alligator? I cant think of any rhymes right now. Good bye, cherry pie! Uhmmm...so long! Well work on this later. So Donnie left Teddys house and went out for a stroll, the only thing he could do to get from point A to point B, as he had no car at the moment. Though he feared being robbed, he did not believe it would happen today, nor in this area. This wasnt a great area, but it wasnt the worst. Probably because it was within proximity to the fire station. (Not exactly police, but firemen are still just as tough.) Look this place, Donnie thought. Its barely changed. He stopped by a tree and looked. He grinned, seeing that his initial D.U.I. were still there. The I bit stood for incredible. Under this D.U.I. was a big stylized T, which was Teddys own marking. Donnie kept going, as there wasnt much more to see, and got onto another street. Here was the Quickie Convenience store. Back when Donnie was a kid it was owned by Harold Hassam. Naturally, Donnie went inside. The familiar sound of chimes entered his ears. He looked at the clerk and noticed it was not Hassam. Excuse me, said Donnie, do you know where Harold is? The clerk, Muhammad, paused reading his newspaper, and lifted his head. Harold? he said. You know him? Yes. Well, I used to. Really? Whats your relation to him? Im just a customer. When I was a kid I used to come here a lot. Oh, alright. Sooo, do you know where he is? Harold passed away two years ago, man. I'm sorry. Are you his son? You say that because Im brown too? I didnt mean it that way. You two just look alike. We all look alike, do we? Donnie didn't reply. Muhammad shook his head, as if dismissing what he said. Aah, Im his nephew. Harold never had a son. He was infertile."

Too much information, said Donnie. Aah, Im bored... You going to buy something or not? Donnie went to the back of the store. While Muhammad watched him carefully, and very noticeably, he took his time browsing. There was an assortment of products, from beef jerky to sun tan lotion. He took a candy bar, and brought it to the checkout. Big spender, Muhammad said as he scanned the item. "Are you sure you don't want a lottery ticket?" "No thanks," said Donnie. "The lottery is a tax on the stupid." Then he paid for his overpriced snack and was ready to leave. Come again soon!" said Muhammad. Donnie took his chocolate bar and left. He walked past Chuck's Barbershop, Lucky Seven Supermarket, and Als Pawnshop. All three places were places that he frequented in the past, but he didn't notice them due to his annoyance from his visit to the convenience store. Something about it irked him. Maybe it was Muhammad saying "come again" without so much as a "thank you." That was it. That's what upset Donnie. And when Donnie got into a mood hed often turn a blind eye to the obvious. Of course he didnt remain in this calm state for long, especially when he came to the old Golf and Country Club. Something about its presence knocked the wind out of him. He stood in awe, looking up at it. This was Worthmeyer Golf and Country, an establishment of old money, in its day an extremely exclusive establishment. Now though it was nothing more than a large piece of property and grassy land. That much could be told from the planks going across the windows. Ill be damned, said Donnie. Worthmeyer Golf and Country. I cant believe its still herepiece of crap. He paused and thought. Buuut itd probably make a good homeless shelter/food bank. Its about the right size. Now, who owns this piece of crap? He went to the double door entrance and looked at the rectangular sign that read: For Lease or Own. Xavier Jr. Real Estate. 475-6026. There was a look of annoyance on Donnies face, but he took down the information. Donnie returned to Teddys. He went to the phone, in the kitchen, and dialed the number for Xavier Jr. Real Estate. He turned to untangle the long cord, and listened to the ringback tone, the noise you hear before being answered. (It sounded something like bhrrrr-bhrrrr.") Xavier Junior Real Estate, said a female voice on the other side. How may I help you? Hi, said Donnie in his most congenial voice, may I please speak to Aaron? Senior or Junior, said Miranda. Junior, said Donnie. Im afraid I cant let you talk to him. What? Why not? You have to make an appointment. To talk on the phone? Yes. Thatd be a phone meeting. Now, do you want to make a meeting? I can pen you in. Its no problem at all.

I cant believe this. You know Aaron and I go way back, dont you? Reeeally? We went to the same university in fact. What university? UT. Lucky guess. Anyone couldve guessed that. So, can I talk to him? No. Make an appointment. Oh! Alright! Dont gimme that tone, or Ill hang up right now. I apologize. Im just a little frustrated. So, the appointment? Yes. Make me a phone appointment please. Name? Donnie Underwood. Donnie could hear some scribbling on the other line. The secretary was writing onto a clip board. Okay, said Miranda. You can have a phone meeting with Aaronahem, Mr. Xavierin a good three weeks. Are you kidding me? said Donnie. I cant wait three weeks. Im on a roll. I have to get this thing going now. Sir, I told you not to give me that tone. Im afraid I will have to disconnect. Wait! But Miranda hung up. Donnie waited a few minutes and then called again. Hello, said Miranda. How may I help you? Hello, said Donnie with a deepened voice. This is Aaron Xavier Senior. Id like to talk to my son please. And dont dawdle or I will have to fire you. R-r-r-right away, sir! said Miranda. Donnie was acquainted with Aaron Xavier Senior, and knew his voice, and mannerisms. He often threatened to fire people on the spot. A voice returned. Who is this? it said. I know you arent my father. He never calls me, especially at this number. Out with it, you! Its me, said Donnie. Dont you recognize my voice? Donnie Underwood? said Aaron Xavier Junior, who was often simply called Xavier. In the flesh," said Donnie. Jesus Christ. I havent spoken to you inyears. Why are you calling? Im interested in a property that you have, old chum. Really? Which property? The country club. A little more specific. The Worthmeyer Golf and Country Club. You want that piece of junk? Its in a run down area, you know that, right? Youre not a very good salesman, are you? Fine. You want? Its yours. And the price?

Well talk about that over dinner. Im sorry, but I dont It's a business dinner! Oh! No lunch? You know how many lunches I have? Alright, well meet for dinner. Tomorrow? Tomorrows good. Tomorrow it is. Chapter 5: Dinner and a Show The doors to the bus swung open and Donnie got off. He waved goodbye to the driver, out of friendly habit, and stepped onto the sidewalk. He was well dressed, but not overly so. He had on a sports coat and slacks. He walked half a block to find a semi-fancy restaurant called Mondew. There inside he was promptly greeted. Allo, said matre d called Jack. Welcome to restaurant Mondew. May I seat you? Hi, said Donnie. Im here to have an early dinner with Aaron Xavier. Junior. Ah, yes, said Jack. I was informed of you. Come right this way. Jack led Donnie through the restaurant, along the red carpet, and seated him at a reserved table. No one was there. They will arrive shortly, said Jack, once I telephone them. Them? Donnie said to himself. Jack left, and Donnie was left alone at the table. He glanced around at the diners. There were plenty of old people and men in suits. When some minutes passed from the distance appeared (Aaron) Xavier (Junior) and Aaron Xavier Senior. They both greeted Donnie with a hearty handshake. Its great to see you again, said Aaron Xavier Senior. Likewise, Mr. Xavier, said Donnie. Oh, pssh-paw. Mr. Xavier is for my employees. Call me Aaron. Alright... Aaron. Now that's more like it." Aaron Xavier Senior, and his son, Xavier, sat down across from Donnie. So, might I ask, said Donnie. What brings you here? Cant a mentor want to visit his pupil for old time sake? said Aaron Xavier Senior. By the way thanks for the help. Youve done really well for yourself. Junior hasnt quite gotten on his own two feet yet. Then again, I suppose you are in a different industry Anyway, I have to ask, why have you returned to this city? Philanthropy. Im trying to help with poverty. Right. And thats why you need the country club. Yes, sir. I should tell you something. There are no requirements for you to give to charity. You did all of this yourself, unlike some people here. I hope youre not referring to your son.

He knows its all true. Donnie looked at Xavier, who had an angry yet subdued look on his face. So, I heard you impersonated me, said Aaron Xavier Senior. Aaaah, oh that, said Donnie, embarrassed. I just did that so I could get into contact with Xavier. Xavier being your son of course, not you. Right, said Aaron Xavier Senior, they all call him Xavier. Very interesting. He tapped on the table with two fingers. He looked to his son Xavier. You ought to fire that secretary. Whats her name? Veranda? Shes a terrible secretary. Ill think about it, Xavier grumbled. Before Donnie could add in his two cents, at this time, a waitress had appeared. While Xavier and Aaron Xavier Senior looked at her like any man would, for Donnie time seemed to slow down as he stared. She was a stunning, slim blonde, with green eyes, fair as snow skin, and a set of long legs. She appeared as if she came right out of a fashion magazine. Check out that rear, Xavier whispered to Donnie. Dont gawk, Donnie whispered back. Shell notice. Can I take your orders? said Kate. Aaron Xavier Senior took in a breath. Yes, he said. Three steaks for the three us, medium rare, and a bottle of your finest wine. Dad, said Xavier, you dont need to order for us. Mind your manners, said Aaron Xavier Senior. Will that be all? said Kate. Her voice was incredibly fine and chirpy. Anything else? No, said Aaron Xavier Senior. Thats all we need. He made eye contact with Donnie. I hope youre not a vegetarian. No, sir, said Donnie. I wouldnt dare dream of sparing an animals life. Good, said Aaron Xavier senior with a laugh. Heh-heh. Kate the waitress left to fulfill the trios orders. Aaron Xavier Senior arranged his dinnerware meticulously while Xavier drank some water, which was on the table before they all arrived. Donnie took the moment of silence to think of what to say next. So, Xavier, said Donnie, what type of real estate are you in now exactly? Before Xavier could speak his father, Aaron Xaver Senior, interrupted. Hes doing government restoration projections. Oh yeah? said Donnie. Xavier eyed his father. That is correct, he said. I am in fact doing government restoration projects. Theyre trying to fix up the city, so that they can bring it back to its former glory. I dont remember the city ever having any glory, said Donnie. It was thirty years before you we were born, said Aaron Xavier Senior, when the automotive industry was booming. Thats why our city is called: The City of Steel.'" Oh, said Donnie, I thought it was: The City of Steal. Yes, said Aaron Xavier Senior. Thats what I just said. Donnie turned his head. The stunning waitress had returned. In her right hand was a bottle of wine in an ice bucket, and in the left there were three perfectly done steaks on a trio of white plates. The jittery look on her face told that she was somewhat new to this, probably hired for her looks. She made her way carefully to the Xaviers' table, but when

she went forward her foot caught on a loose piece of carpet, and she bowed forward. All the steaks in her hands flipped up into the air. Everything seemed in slow motion as Xavier and Donnie watched what would happen. Then one of the slabs of meat landed square on Aaron Xavier Seniors balding head. He immediately threw it off for the heat which burnt his scalp. Omigod! said Kate, trying to make things right. Im so sorry! She got a towel and tried brushing Aaron Xavier Seniors forehead. He swatted her hand away and yelled. You idiot, you blithering idiot! What the hell is wrong with you?! Xavier looked at his Dad uncomfortably. Donnie wanted to speak up to say something, but the old mans voice was far too loud. Sir, Kate could only say. Aaron Xavier Senior continued his diatribe. Ive never met a bigger moron! Sir, I, I, I Im going to have you fired! I cant believe you were actually hired! You incompetent slag of a woman! How hard is it to carry three bloody plates of food?! Are you so dumb that you cant do that? Hm?! HM?! Please, its my first Shut up, just shut up! You goof! Shut up and get out of my face! Please! Go off to a dark corner and die! Tears came from Kates face on those last remarks, and she indeed ran off into a dark corner. Donnie whispered to Xavier. Arent you going to say anything about this to your dad? Xavier shook his head, Theres no point. Donnie got up and jogged over to Kate. He found her wiping her face with a probably not clean towel. He tapped her on the shoulder, and made her turn. What? she said. Come to yell at me some more? No, said Donnie. Im here to apologize. You dont need to apologize. I screwed up. Im always screwing up. Thats why no one likes me. Thats not true. Then how come I didnt get the part? For what? The movie. The movie? I went to a movie audition and they didnt even given me a call-back. Whats that? Do I have to explain everything to you?! Alright. Calm down. Relax. Can I get your name? Destiny. Is that really your name? Its my stage name. Donnie let out a deep breath. Oh, Jeez, he thought. Alright, he said, what is your actual name? Kate, said Kate. Kate Audrey Witman.

Kate Audrey Witman, said Donnie, I know this might not make your day better, but He reached into his pocket and took out a large bill. He held it out to Kate, who did not hesitate to take it. Thank you, she said. Ive always depended on the kindness of strangers. Much obliged So, you say youre an actor, huh? Actress. Right. How long have you been acting for? Seven years. But you dont look more than twenty five. Ive been doing it for a very long time. Is it tough? I havent gotten used to the rejection yet. At this time Jack the Maitre D appeared. He tapped Kate on her shoulder to get her attention. Kate, you lazy woman, he said, why arent you working? Its okay, said Donnie. We were just talking. Could you please leave us alone? If its not too much trouble. Jack raised an eyebrow, then went, Very well, and walked off. He didnt have the capabilities to argue with the clientele. As Donnie was to say more to Kate, Xavier appeared and interrupted. Donnie, he said, my dads ending this little dinner early. Can you take him to his car? But I wanted to talk some more to Kate, said Donnie. He looked over his shoulder at Aaron Xavier Senior, readying to leave. Just do me this favor, said Xavier. Alright, said Donnie, Ill help your dad. Then he left, and went to Aaron Xavier Seniors side, but not without taking a peak at Xavier chatting to the incredibly attractive waitress. They were both smiling and laughing. Chapter 6: It Begins The day after, Donnie returned to the restaurant to find the waitress named Kate. I dont mean to bother you, said Donnie to Jack the Maitre D. But is the waitress Kate Witman serving today? No, sir, Im afraid not, said Jack. Oh, do you know when shell be in? Why do you ask? Im interested in meeting with her. I see. So, when shall I come back? Whenever you want, but you will not be seeing Kate anymore. She has been fired. When did that happen? Just this morning. Dont tell me it had something to do with yesterday. That amongst other things.

What other things? Sir, will you be dining in our restaurantor not? No. I just came here to find the waitress I had the day before. Then I will have to ask you to live. Wait, wait. Could you tell me her phone number? Or maybe where she lives? I am not allowed to give out that sort of information. If you can make an exception And why would I do that? For you? I can make it worth your while. Donnie reached into his back pocket for his wallet, a tiresome but often effective move. Jack suddenly began to push him. Angrily. Get out! said Jack. I cannot be bought off with money! What do you take me for?! Please, said Donnie, trying to resist, I only wanna see her. No! But No means no! Out! Out-out-out! And before Donnie could devise a plan to get his way he was literally kicked out of the restaurant. The Maitre D was wearing a very hard shoe. Donnie rubbed his rear, and groaned from disappointment. He wasnt all too angry, since this wasnt exactly a new occurrence. A youngish lady waiting outside, who was in a particularly thick jacket stared at Donnie. Yes? said Donnie. May I help you? The lady, dark skinned, and of a medium build for a woman, answered in a flustered manner. She was stunned by Donnies looks. He was quite handsome. Very imposing to the fairer sex. Well, er, uh, went Allison, I was just Im waiting for a friend. I didnt mean to stare. Its okay, said Donnie. Im just being grumpy. So, what happened? Why did you get kicked out? I was trying to find out something. Ooh, that makes a lot of sense. Everyones trying to find out the eleven herbs and spices in their special fried chicken. Not exactly. My mistake. Donnie, always congenial, tried to make conversation. So, who are you waiting for? said Donnie. My friend Kate, said Allison. I have to give her something Actually, shes more of a family friend. Hold on a minute. Did you say Kate? Yes. Is her last name Witman? How do you know that? Aw, jeez. I have to tell you something. What?

She got fired. Fired? I was in the restaurant asking about her, and they told me she got fired this morning. God damn. Unlike Allison, Donnie was quite pleased with the way things turned out. I hope I dont sound creepy here, he said slowly, but can I ask you something? Sure, said Allison. But I dont have to answer you. Okay. Go on. Do you have Kates phone number? I cant do that. I know, you look harmless enoughand handsome enoughbut Im going to say no, for fear that you might be a murderer or rapist. This part of the city is alright, but the other side isn't. You couldve just came from there. That much I suspect. Is this a joke? As a math teacher I am required to use my ability in real life situations, and my calculations of probability tell me that you are a wolf in sheeps clothing. Oh, God. Never mind. Donnie turned around, but Allison stopped him. I was just kidding, she said. Dont you have a sense of humor? Im sorry, said Donnie. I forgot to laugh. Look, I know why you want her phone number. Ill give it to you. Just dont tell her I helped you out. Okay? I swear upon the graves of the father and mother Ive never met. "Huh?" Allison reached into her purse, and obtained a piece of paper and pen. She jotted down Kates phone number and gave it to Donnie, who made sure to hide his excitement with a stiff upper lip. Well, then, he said, I guess I should get going. Hold on, said Allison. I did something for you, now you have to do something for me. Um, alright, that sounds fair. What do you have in mind? Could you spare a couple bucks? For what? My schools trying to raise some money to buy computers, and any help would be nice. We want to set up a lab. Hm, okay. Ill help. Whats your address? Why? So I can send you a check. You dont have any cash? I do, but its not in an amount you need. So, Allison, ever trusting, gave Donnie her address, and he indeed later on sent her a check. The amount of the check was enough for nearly twenty computers, and best of all it didnt bounce.

After minutes of staring at the phone Donnie decided to call up Kate. He got out his slip of paper, picked up the receiver, and dialed her number. He waited anxiously, and then a chirpy voice said, Hello? H-h-hi, said Donnie. Is this Kate? Kate Witman? Yes, it is! said Kate. How are you? Im good. Doing great. And yourself? Also great. Well, now that you called. Um, so whatve you been up to? Singing. You sing? Of course. If were going to be doing a musical together, then I need to practice. Dont I? Musical? Whatre you talking about? Who is this? Donnie Underwood. We met at the restaurant. Kates voice sounded crestfallen, but she carried on the conversation. Could be more specific? My tabled ordered three steaks and you dropped all three of them, said Donnie. A little more specific? I gave you that big tip. Again, can you be more specific? We talked about your career. You told me your name was Destiny. Riiight. Okay. I kinda remember that. Who gave you my phone number? Allison. Donnie then whispered to himself, Oh, crap. He recalled that he wasnt supposed to tell. Did she? said Kate. Are you angry? Im more annoyed than angry. Thats good. I guess. Anyway, what do you want? I Id like to go out on a date with you. You hardly even know me. I think thats the point of a date. You go on them to get to know people. Right? Am I wrong? Youre not wrong, buuut Im not really that interested in dating you. Why not? Youre not really my type. And whats your type? I'd rather not say. Oh, alright. Never mind. Thanks anyway. As Donnie was about to hang up, Kate suddenly changed her mind. Wait, she said. Maybe we could go out on a date. What do you have in mind?" Oh jeez! said Donnie, quite excitedly. "I never even thought that far. Y'know what?" said Kate. "Surprise me.

The weekend arrived, and Kate and Donnie were together. They stepped out of a taxicab, and went ahead inside the movie theatre. The movie theatre was quite old, but was fixed up into a multiplex. There were several posters hung inside, advertising the movies that were showing. There were six movies to be seen: The Good Father, Horror, Horror, The British Patient, Pulp Faction, The Unusual Suspects, and, False Romance. Donnie and Kate stoodalong with many other peoplestaring at them, unsure what to see. Jeez, said Donnie, all these movies look so depressing. No more depressing than your average novel, said Kate. You like to read? Surprised? No, I just Most people arent readers. I wouldnt call myself a reader. I read maybe a book a month. Oh yeah? Whatre you reading now? I forgot the exact title. It was about wizards or something other. Wizards, huh? Its surprisingly interesting. Im surprised the book isnt a bestseller by now. You honestly think a novel about wizards would ever become a bestseller?" Eh, stranger things have happened." Dang it, said Donnie, growing impatient, lets just pick anything. What does it matter? One movie is the same as the next. Nooooo, said Kate. A movie choice is always crucial for the first date. Picking a bad movie will ruin everything. Well, okay, were on a date, lets go with False Romance. Thats probably the worst out of all of them. Its called FALSE Romance. Doesnt that say anything to you? What about The Good Father? Mafia movies, yeah, thatll set the mood. The British Patient? Sounds boring. Pulp Faction? I dont even know what thats about. Alright, why dont you decide on your own? Ill let you make the executive decision. Horror, Horror, looks interesting. Theres a head on the floor. Oooh, horror movies turn my stomach. You said I could pick anything. "Oh. Okay." Donnie acquiesced (gave in), then he and Kate went to the counter, where tickets were sold. A pimply face teenager named Brody looked up at them, briefly, and asked what they wanted to see. Two for Horror, Horror, said Donnie. Time? said Brody. Eight PM. Would you like fries with that? Huh?

Oh, sorry. Habit. Donnie gave Brody some money, and received two 8 PM tickets for "Horror, Horror, which would be showing in screening room #9. He and Kate went off, walking along at a fair pace as the movie was soon to start. Still Kate stopped by the concession stand, at this time, 7:56 PM. Wait, said Kate, I want a snack. But the movie's about to start, said Donnie. "And its so expensive here" If we don't buy snacks the movie theater will shut down. It's how they make their money. You know, the studios take away 80% or more of the ticket price. Plus it's not thaaat expensive." For the cost of a small soda here, I could get a barrel full at the supermarket. Two, if on sale. So, youre broke or what? I have money. Plenty of money. Its just the principle of the thing. Oooh, alright. Never mind. Donnie gave in, Okay. Ill get us something to munch on. Could you hold our seats? I hate doing that, said Kate. Cause when they come up to you, its really awkward to tell them they cant. Okay, said Donnie. I guess its alright if we miss a few minutes of the movie. I bet itll be a stinker. Yay," said Kate. So Donnie and Kate waited in line for popcorn and soda. When they got their things, they went past the ticket taker, after he ripped their tickets, and into the screening room marked #9. It was annoyingly packed. They had to get seats near the front. Donnie leaned back and groaned, My necks gonna be so sore after this. Relax, Kate said jokingly, the best part of a movie happens on the bottom of the screen. The movie began right away. The screen went black, and flashed several times. A figure stalked through some bushes, and then found a campsite with scantily clad teenagers. They were immediately eviscerated. Guts and blood everywhere! Donnie sort of tuned out, but hoped that the story would turn around. But midway it was no different. Every plot turn was someone dying, or thinking of dying. God, said Donnie to Kate in whisper, this is so boring. As soon as he finished that sentence a head hovered above him, and yelled, Will you shut your goddamn yap?! God, you people can never keep quiet, not even for a second! Whats that supposed to mean? said Donnie. You know what it means, said the moviegoer named Stewart. I dont like what youre implying. You gonna do something about it? What am I supposed to do? Thats what I thought. Punk. Donnie turned his head back to the movie screen, and glanced at Kate, who seemed incredibly embarrassed or maybe afraid. Donnie wanted to tell her it was okay,

but he did not say anything more, as he did not want to get into anymore unnecessary conflict. So, he sat quietly -- until the obnoxious Stewart kicked the back of his seat, and threw popcorn at his head. Donnie stood and turned around, Hey, you better knock it off. Goddamnit. Im warning you. Donnie, sit down, said Kate. Kate was worried as everyone around was staring. Yeah, said Stewart, sit down, you idiot. Youre ruining the movie. He laughed and put his feet up right on Donnies seat, and then threw some more popcorn, and spit out his bubble gum. The gum flew into Donnies hair, where it got stuck. Thats it! said Donnie, and he jumped over his seat to confront Stewart. Stewart responded by standing upand throwing a punch. The punch was in good form and packed enough strength to send Donnie straight onto his back. He quickly stood, then the two exchanged attacks, but the fight was very one sided. Stewart looked like he knew boxing, and anyones guess was he started this fight intentionally, so he could test or show his skills. Donnie swayed while holding up his arms. They defensively absorbed several more punches until ushers came in to break it up. The ushers though, instead of holding back Stewart, tackled down Donnie. No, no! said Kate, pointing to Stewart. Its him! You got the wrong guy! Seeing this accusation Stewart ran out of the aisle, and sprinted out of the screening room. Half the ushers gave chase. Donnie looked up, bleary-eyed, and said in a half-conscious voice, Im not done yet! Chapter 7: Call Me? Only days passed since the occurrence at the movie theaterbut it really did feel like weeks. Donnie was sat in the kitchen, feeling cowardly for what happened, still with some bruises, waiting for the phone to ring. There was an anxious look on his face. He had left several messages on Kates answering machine, and now was waiting for her to return his messages. At this time Teddy returned from work. The door swung open and he noted his sulky friend in the corner. He quickly changed his dirty clothes and then went over to him. Hey, said Teddy. Whats the matter, ol buddy? Nothing, said Donnie. Are you sure? Yeah. Have you been working on your charity? Still waiting for some paper work to go through. So, I guess you got some time on your hands. Hey, you wanna go do something tonight? I have the entire week off. Id rather not. Are you sure about that?

Yeah. Teddy was about to turn away, but then decided to sit beside Donnie. He put his arm around him after figuring out what was going on. I know why youre down, said Teddy. You went out with some gorgeous girl, the date didnt go as planned, and now youre waiting for her to return your call. Lemme telll you something, man, you dont need her. I dont? said Donnie. No, not at all. Howd yah figure? Who needs women when we have each other? Bros before hoes, am I right? So lets go out, hang out, and have blast! Paint the town red and all that! Please, I just wanna be left alone. But Not in the mood. Alright, fine. But Im still going out, with our without you Do you want anything from the bar that Ive just decided to go to? Chicken wings? Ill come back early and bring you some chicken wings for your dinner, if you want. Im not really feeling hungry for dead animals right now. How about a salad? A big salad? As big as it gets. Not too big. Er, Ill be sure of that. Teddy went up to his room, got changed, and then left the house. Meanwhile Donnie continued sitting there with his hands clasped together. After some minutes, he got up, and decided to do something for the late day. He dragged himself out of the kitchen and went to the bathroom (on the first floor). He took off his shirt and flexed in the mirror. He didnt look bad at all. Yet he managed to find fault. He stretched out his arm and pinched the loose skin beneath. No wonder Kate hasn't called me, he said to himself. Look at me. Im so fat. He slapped his own tummy, and also looked at his chest, which he thought was too small and uneven. There was an appearance of disgust on his face. I need to man up, he said. He paused for a second. What does that even mean? I guess I gotta get into shape. But what do I do? he continued thinking. Of course! He left the bathroom and went into the living room. He opened the phone book rested on the stand.. He leaned over it like he was doing something life or death, then he found what he was looking for. He found a listing of local gyms. There were a total of three gyms: Jims Gym, Silvers Gym, and Ahnolds Gym. Donnie went with Silvers Gym. The Silvers Gym ad raved about its 24 hour fitness and its proclivity for training celebrities like Mr. Sly, Chuck Horris, Ron Clod Van Damn, Mackie Chan, and, wow, Stephan Seagull. As soon as Donnie entered Silvers Gym he immediately noticed the strong smell of blood, sweat, and testosterone. He looked around, noticing that the gym was larger than he originally thought. There were fluorescent lights above that gave off a distinct buzzing

noise. It could be heard quite clearly, since not many people were here at this hour. There were the gym rats, and then the remaining salespeople and trainers. A fellow in a t-shirt two sizes too small came over to greet Donnie while he stood around, wondering what to do. Welcome to Silvers Gym, said Jesse. Then he shook Donnies hand. Donnie tried not to squeal at his fingers being crushed. Aaah, hi! said Donnie. Are you new here? said Jesse. Donnie flicked out his hang, trying to get the blood circulating again. Yeah, said Donnie. Its my first time here. Thats great. Why dont I show you around? And then you can decide if you want to sign up." Alright. Come along with me. Jesse led Donnie around the gym. There were: plenty of treadmills, stationery bikes, benches, dumbbells, and an assortment of machines. The machines seemed quite intimidating as they were mainly occupied by big grunting men. Jesse and Donnie went past the leg press and stopped by someone doing good ol dead lifts. That is the exercise in which you lift a barbell above your knees in order to work your lower back. This is Adam, said Jesse. Hes a regular here. Oh yeah? said Donnie, looking. I can tell. Hes an inspiration to a lot of people here, said Jess, an I thought youd like to see what he does. He turned his head to Adam, who was rubbing his hands together, readying to again lift the fully loaded barbell. How much weight you got on there, Adam boy? Oh, about 500 pounds, said Adam. Adam had arms that were the same size as Donnies legs. Why do you ask? I have a potential customer here, said Jess, an I thought I could show him the future, if you know what I mean. I know what you mean, said Adam, heh-heh. Lets see it, said Jess. Then Adam gripped the barbell even, grunted, and lifted all that weight, all 500 pounds, more than two feet off the ground. It seemed quite easy to him despite the enormous weight. Donnie stared in disbelief. Would you like to give it a try? said Adam. No, thank you, said Donnie, who sweated by just looking. Come on, said Jesse. Try it out. See what youre made of. Well lower the weights for you. Lets make it about half, hm? Adam removed several weight plates from the barbell and then stood aside. Donnie went to the barbell. He took an even grip on it, like he had seen, and then tried pulling. He tried again...and again, and again. He couldnt even get it off the floor a single inch. Jesse and Adam laughed together Ha! Ha! Ha! whilst Donnie let out a single deep breath.

So! said Jesse. Now that youve seen what a weakling you are, would you care to sign up with our gym? Donnie went inside the Tes-Mart department store and found his way to the fitness section. (Found, since he had asked for help and was given incorrect directions.) While the brightly lit aisle did not have any equipment comparable to Silvers Gym it was more than enough for any sort of beginner. Donnie, not interested in increasing his cardiovascular abilities, went past the bicycles and treadmills, and located what he wanted: weights and a sturdy bench for lifting. He stooped down, with a grunt, to examine the plates. There were two types available, one made from cement, coated in plastic, and the other from iron. How much weight do I really need? Donnie said to himself, thinking. That really depends on your body weight, said a voice. A small person might not need as much as someone whos six foot something. Donnie looked up to see the voice. You know a lot about fitness, do you? said Donnie. I used to play a bit of football in high school, said George. Oh yeah? Yup. Played for the Beavers. The Beavers, huh?" Suddenly another voice added to the conversation. There you are, it said. It sounded awfully familiar. Donnie stood up. There was Allison, the lady he had met from before, the one that gave away Kates phone number. They had become somewhat acquainted through the phone, in which she listened to his (lack of) relationship problems. Donnie, said Allison, whatre you doing here? You two know each other? said George. Yes, said Allison. Im having sex with him. What? said Donnie. I cant believe you, George said to Allison. You have a terrible sense of humour! Ah-ha-ha! Oh, thank God, a joke, said Donnie. I thought I ran into the crazy house. So, are you going to introduce us? said George. Donnie, said Allison, pointing to each person, meet my husband George. George, meet my very platonic friend Donnie. Hes the one who helped out our school. Donnie and George shook hands. (Donnie always shook hands when meeting anyone, since he was a business-y type.) Nice to meet you, said Donnie. Likewise, said George. So, said Allison. She glanced around. Looking to get into shape? Maybe to impress a certain someonewho's ignoring you? How do you know shes ignoring me? said Donnie. Does word really get around that fast? My aunty told me, said Allison.

"Hey, since you're so plugged in," Donnie said, half-jokingly, "why don't you tell me why Kate hasn't been returning my calls?" Mm, shes busy, I guess, said Allison. And she mentioned something about not being ready for a relationship yet. Bad timing. It isnt all related to your terrible, horrible first date." That really was a terrible first date, said George. I can still see your black eye. Can you? said Donnie. I thought it was fading. It is, said George, but I can still see it a bit. Allison jumped up a bit when she looked at her watch. Oh, Jesus, she said, were going to miss the show. What show? said Donnie. Cats, said Allison. She then grabbed George by the arm and started pulling him away. See yah later, said George with a grin. See yah, said Donnie. When Allison and George were out of sight, Donnie tapped his chin, still thinking about what equipment to purchase. He didnt have the patience for this, nor did he know what to choose. So, he just grabbed two hex shaped dumbbells, of different size (15 pounds and 20 pounds), and took them over to the checkout area. He dropped them onto the conveyor belt, which visibly annoyed the cashier. Regardless she scanned his items and saw him on his way. Donnie awkwardly went outside, balancing his unbalanced weights. A second before he was about to get into his car, he spotted something in the corner of his eye. A teenager, or what looked like a teenager, was engaged in a loud argument with a lady around her late 30s. Listen, old lady, said the teenager named Jay. I aint got nothing on me. So you best step out of my way or I might call the cops. Dont you listen, old lady me! said the lady, who was quite tall for a female. Her name was Michelle. I know you took my wallet! You were the last person to bump into me an thats when it goddamn went missing! Now where is it, you devious hood rat!?! You dont even know what a hood rat is. I should slap you in the face right now. Go ahead. You couldnt even slap a watermelon. What are you talking about? I dont know! Donnie, out of sheer boredom or maybe heroism, decided to intervene. A lady in distress, after all, he thought. He went over to Jay and Michelle, and stood with them to form a perfect triangle. He didnt know either of their names of course. Excuse me, he said, I couldnt help but noticing you two were in an argument. Why dont you mind your own business? said Michelle. You think I cant handle this because Im a woman? What, no, said Donnie. Not at all. Hey, said Jay, you dont need to get involved. Shut your goddamn mouth, said Michelle. Adults are talking! Youre really starting to annoy me, said Jay.

Would anyone like to tell me whats going on? said Donnie. This little punk stole my wallet, said Michelle, pointing clearly to Jay. I know it, I just know it. Is that true? said Donnie. It aint true, said Jay. She dont know what shes talking about. Last thing I theft was a bag of chronic. But I regret that actually. Whatnic? said Donnie. He shook his head. Anyway, if you didnt steal this womans wallet, then it shouldnt be on you Right? If youre suggesting what I think youre suggesting, said Jay, then I 100% refuse. That is an unlawful search! I do that then everything my name stands for will be wrecked. Jay Underwood will not be a push over! Donnie rolled his eyes, and then realized something. Wait a minute, he said. Did you say Jay Underwood? Maybe I did, maybe I didnt, said Jay. Hows Clarisse? said Donnie. Donnie, cousin Donnie! said Jay. (Jay was actually Donnies second cousin.) I knew I recognized you from somewhere! Welp, I havent seen you in a decade or two, but Ive heard great things! What are you doing here? Whatve you been up to? Im doing some charity work, said Donnie. Well, Im trying to get it started. And yourself? Jay lifted up his sleeve and showed Donnie his fresh tattoo. The tattoo was of a snake in a circle eating itselfaka an ouroboros. I got a new tat, said Jay. What do you think? Michelle stepped between Jay and Donnie to interrupt their conversation. Hate to break up the family reunion, she said, but theres still the case of my missing wallet. Donnie gave Jay a piercing look with his eyes and said, Did you take this ladys wallet? Tell me the truth. This was a look he used whenever doing hard negotiations with companies. Jay ran to a bush and returned with a wallet in his skinny hand. He gave it to Michelle, who was not very grateful. I knew it, she said. She poked Jay in the chest. I knew you were a piece of shit!" Not the first time I heard that, said Jay. He was blase in his attitudeexcept when Michelle slapped him across the face and walked away. She didnt even bother to see whether she was being followed. Donnie cleared his throat, trying to think of what to say. He only said the first thing that came to his mind, which was probably true. Well, er, said Donnie, you kinda deserved it! But I took her wallet for a good reason, said Jay. Whats that reason? I had the munchies. I needed money for snacks Boy, I can't imagine what your mom would say about this. Man, youre really out of the loop. I haven't seen her in years. She ran away. I don't even know where she is." Oh God. Im so sorry. How come I never Hey, can we talk about something else? I really dont wanna think about it.

Alright Uh, okay, so, what do you do for fun around here? Whatever the boys want. The boys? Im in a gang. Thats terrible. Is it? They took good care of me. Alls I gotta do is a couple errands for them. Like what? Jay reached into his long jacket and took out a clear bag of marijuana/joints. He offered it to Donnie, which was obviously pointless. I can give you a good price, said Jay, since youre fam(ily). Oh, lord, said Donnie, get that away from me. I have a reputation to maintain. Alriiiight, but youre missing out. Im fine. Really. Are you sure? Its not as bad as you think. I hear it has anti-cancer properties. Honestly, I dont want any of your marijuana. And I don't have cancer. Okay. Your loss. Jay shrugged. Then at the end of the parking lot a police cruiser appeared. Jay gave Donnie a pat on shoulder and said, Ill catch you next time, and like that he was gone, sprinting in the opposite direction of the "po-po." Donnie had wanted to talk more, but all he could do now was shake his head. He returned to his car. Chapter 8: Blind as a Bat Donnie paced around in his room on a brand new cordless phone that he had bought for Teddy, and shook his head as he listened to Allison speak. He stopped circling about so that he could respond. I cant, he said. Thats so weird. Ive never been on one of those before. Sounds like something in the movies. But George went through so much trouble to find this woman, Allison said on the other line. She's really sweet. You have to give her a chance. We arranged this for you and everything. What if shes crazy? said Donnie. How do I know that? What if she tries to murder me or something? Youre crazy if you think that. Okay, so that wont happen. But still-- Relax. Its a blind date, not a blindsided date. I dunno. Itll be fun, dont you like surprises? Plus I dont think you have anything better to do. One, I dont like surprises. Two, Im doing plenty of important things. Like what? Im still in the process of setting up my charity. Im tweaking my plans, uh, cutting through the red tape, doing paper work, writing cheques, etcetera. Its a thankless task. Surely you can clear up one day.

One days more than you think. Its 8% of a house flys life. Youre not a house fly. So, cmon, dont you want to get your mind off Kate? The gorgeous woman who dumped you like a can of beans? Alright, alright, Ill go on this silly date. But if it doesnt work out Relax. Itll work out. Twenty minutes passed by in the restaurant. Donnie, quite angry about being stood up, was about to leave -- but then a gorgeous woman, that matched Allisons description, suddenly appeared. She had long, flowing, dark hair, long legs, rosy cheeks, and lips to match. Right away she locked eyes with Donnie. Donnie was flustered, and at this moment could not remember that girl, who he, um, er, what was her name? Suzanne greeted him with a hug and kiss on each cheek. You must be Donnie, she said. Yes, Yes, I am, said Donnie. And you are Suzanne. Im so sorry for being late, said Suzanne. I hope youre not angry. No, not at all. Why should I be angry? Youre very kind. Shall we sit down? So, Suzanne and Donnie sat down at their table. Suzanne took off her jacket to reveal her gorgeous figure in a tight dress while Donnie loosened his tie. Despite only a minute and change passing, the two seemed quite optimistic about what might be ahead. Thank you, Allison, Donnie said under his breath. What was that? said Suzanne. Uh, nothing. I was just thinking how pretty you are. Why, thank you. Youre quite handsome yourself. Am I? Absolutely. Youre tall, dark, and handsome. Isnt that what every lady wants? Im not so sure. Well, its what I want. As Suzanne and Donnie were about to fall in love a waiter appeared to take their orders. He adjusted his bowtie and cleared his throat. His voice was quite funny, too high a pitch for a man. If he were an animal that could speak hed probably be a bee or mosquito. Good evening, said Clarence. Im Clarence Montclairthe Thirdand I will be your waiter for today. What would we all like to order? Donnie glanced at his menu. He didnt really need to look too carefully, since for him visits to restaurants were quite frequent, and most places often had the exact same items. Desserts, for example, all come from one or two national companies. Ill have the Balmoral Pie, he said, and a glass of water please. Aand for you? said Clarence. I dont know, said Suzanne. Everything looks so good. Take your time, said Donnie. Suzanne browsed the menu. Maybe I should just get steak and potatoes. Allan used to always get the steak and potatoes. Whos Allan? said Donnie.

My ex-husband, said Suzanne. She looked up at the waiter Clarence. I think Ill have the lobster, she said. And a glass of white wine. She looked at Donnie. Is that okay with you? Anything you want, said Donnie. Its my treat. Will that be all? said Clarence. For now, said Donnie. Thank you. Now Clarence went off to fetch some food while Suzanne and Donnie waited at their table. They pulled their chairs in so that they could be closer to one another. Not much had happened so far, but there was a certain electricity in the air. Well, said Donnie, scratching the back of his head, I guess we should get to know each other now. Uh, where should I start? Lets start simple, said Suzanne. Whats your favorite color? I actually I dont have one, said Donnie. It used to be red, but then someone ruined it for me. It's kind of a long story." Red, huh? said Suzanne. That was Allans favorite color. Allan Right. My ex-husband. I know. Hes not as bad as he sounds. You never said anything bad about him. I didnt? Well, hes kind of an idiot. Lets not mention him again, huh? Will do. Suzanne and Donnie were silent for a few seconds, thinking what to say. It seemed like an hour had gone by. So, said Suzanne, finally, I have to say this is quite a fancy restaurant here. Do you come here a lot? First time here, said Donnie. Its not bad actually, compared to other restaurants Ive been too. Im a bit of a foodie, you know. I love food. Im always visiting restaurants. Whats a foodie? Ive never heard that term before. It just means someone whos really into food. A fat person?" "Not exactly. A fat person over stuffs himself at every meal, just to get full. A foodie savors his food and likes trying new things. Like before I went to New Zealand. Have you ever been to New Zealand?" "Can't say I have." Well, I went there and I ate a penguin egg. Its really weird. You can boil it and it stays clear, not like regular chicken eggs that turn white. Sounds interesting. I bet Allan would never try something like that. Hes not quite so adventurous as me. His idea of a night out is visiting a Mickey Dees and watching football. What a boring person he is. Uh, speaking of adventure, what do you like to do for fun? Hmm? I like to go hiking. But not like regular hiking. Extreme hiking. Hiking in the mountains and stuff. I havent done it much, but its really nice. The open air, the freshness, the smells of nature. Its quite invigorating. Gee. I never took you for an extreme outdoorsy type.

Maybe I exaggerated a bit in the extreme department. You know who exaggerates a lot? Allan? How did you know? Yeah, anyway, he always used to exaggerate. It was sooooooooooooooo annoying." Donnie humoured Suzanne. That Allan sounds like quite a character, he said. Oh, he is, said Suzanne. I dont even know why I married him in the first place! He had the most irritating habitsbut the worst is the way he sleeps. Always tossing, and turning, and snoring. Sounded like a goddamn motorcycle, I swear!" Donnie stared without blinking an eye. "Oh, ah, sorry for the profanity," said Suzanne. "I just get so worked up sometimes. Please, said Donnie, tell me more about your ex-husband. Youre interested? Sure. Why not? Well, he was a marine. Thats one of the reasons I got married to him. It was kind of a turn on. But then I found out that he was only a marine in combat, if you know what I mean. Hmm, where is that waiter? He should have our food by now. Its only been ten minutes, I think. Has it? Oh. Donnie pushed back his seat and stood Where are you going? asked Suzanne. I need to use the facilities, said Donnie. Do you mind? Of course not, said Suzanne. Donnie wandered around a bit and then bumped into a waitress. Excuse me, he said, can you point me to the bathroom? The waitress named Elizabeth pointed, Its that way. Oh, one more thing, said Donnie, who also pointed, but in different direction. See that table over there, with the gorgeous girl? He slipped a few bills into Elizabeths front pocket. Can you take this money over there in a couple minutes? Its to pay for the food and tip. I dont know, said Elizabeth. Id rather not. Donnie put another Bill into Elizabeths pocket. Thats for you. No problem at all, said Elizabeth, renouncing her previous words. Then Donnie made his way to the mens bathroom. Inside was entirely blue, and had a smell of urine, and bad cologne. He went between the urinals and stalls, and pulled up a window to make his escape. Upon getting outside he slapped his own forehead, realizing that he had left behind his coat. This was just one of many, many disastrous dates. Chapter 9: Renovating The deal for the Worthmeyer Golf and Country Club went through. All accounts were settled with Xavier, and Donnie, through his charity, became sole owner of this

abandoned building and real estate. With a hardhat on, alone, he broke open the front doors with a crowbarthe key he had could not work in the rusted lockand went inside. He shone his flashlight around, adding to the scant sunlight entering through the boarded up windows. Except for the dust, and the faded colours, the country club looked exactly as it did 20 years ago when Donnie was a shoeshine boy. The floors of marble, walls of mahogany, and even the big chandelier in main foyer were completely intact. There also stood the distinct furniture, dcor, and art of powerful rich men that harked back to a time long ago. These things, however, brought no good memories. Donnie shuddered at them, and crept ahead through the hallway until it came to a stop, where a large opaque tarp hung like a curtain blocked his view. He went through it and arrived at the atrium. The atrium was a large open area, used to dispose of visitors into other areas. In the middle of it was a bronzed statue of the country clubs founder, Mr. Worthmeyer. Mr. Worthmeyer was a decrepit banking CEO, who was known for denying loans to minorities, calling them risky. Perhaps his intuition paid off, since he died as a millionaire several times over. Donnie moved through the beams of light, made visible by floating dust, and looked up at this garish monument. I bet you never thought Id own this place, did you? said Donnie, talking to whatever spirit might be there. Hmm? He turned around, continuing to survey the place, and went up the staircase that was behind (one of two which led to same place). He came upon the double doors of the second floor and looked at the frosted glass. On the front was a golden placard that read: President, F.M. Worthmeyer. Donnie touched the doorknob, but then pulled back his hand. Wait. What the hell am I afraid of? he said. Worthmeyer is dead. Donnie charged through the double doors and let himself into the late F.M. Worthmeyers office. He paused and took in the smell, which was a mixture of stale cigars, whiskey, cheap cologne, and mothballs. He went around, exploring. It was unusual for any vacated building to have all furnishings left in place, but the owner, Worthmeyer, had no children, and no relatives to whom he could pass on his worldly possessions. He of course died alone. This made Donnie chuckle. In the two years I worked here, said Donnie, I learned plenty about you, old man. You were a nasty, stingy bastard, who had no capacity to care for anyone. But now youre dead, probably in hell. Does it please you to know that a shine is in your office, hmm? Your big comfy office. Its so goddamn big in here! Who needs this much space to grumble and sort papers? LISTEN TO MY VOICE ECHO-O-O-O-O! Ah-ha-ha-ha! Donnie leapt over Worthmeyers desk and sat in the leather chair. He spun it around a few times, and then rummaged through the available drawers. The middle drawer (that took up a third the length of the desk) he found, however, was locked. Wheres that key? said Donnie. He checked the around, looking for a key with which to unlock the drawerand then he had a realization. Wait a minute. I dont need no stinking key!

He set down his flashlight, so that it would point up to the ceiling, and used his crowbar to crack open the middle drawer of the desk. Inside was a box of fine cigars, an old lighter (still working), and a half drunken bottle of alcohol. What type of alcohol it was we were unsure as it had a label too worn to read. Now this is more like it, said Donnie as he leaned back in Worthmeyers chair, and put his feet on the desk. I should celebrate this triumph with a cigar Then again I dont really smoke. He shrugged. I guess theres a first time for everything. He chomped off the end of a cigar, doing like hed seen others do, and lit it with the available lighter. The lighter was an old style lighter that had a lid that could flip, a flint wheel, and a wick for oil. Reluctantly Donnie puffed on the cigar. He didnt know how to do it, and so had inhaled the smoke into his lungs. He coughed and coughed. Cough, cough! He snuffed out the cigar on the desk, and breathed in deep to catch some air. I cant believe people actually enjoy this, he said. He stood up. Well, I guess I oughta get going now. I already have a good idea of what I want to do with this place. But then he saw the dusty painting of Worthmeyer hung on the back wall. Though maybe I should do some redecorating first. And with his crowbar in hand Donnie indeed did some redecorating. He went around smashing everything in site, destroying all the paintings, sculptures, trinkets, decorations, furniture, and even windows (which made a satiating crashing sound). In a few minutes time not a thing was left unscathed. The room was all but a wreck. Donnie was sweating, and panting, but he was satisfied with the results. So, he took his crowbar and returned to the atrium. There was a bronze statue that, in his words, needed fixing. A moment later Worthmeyer's head went rolling. If only it were real. Enough time had passed and the country club was now starting to look like a proper homeless shelter (but in a good way). Donnie called this the UTRC, the Underwood Temporary Residence Center, as he did not want the stigma of poverty. To him it was a place to get back on your feet, and had several divisions to help almost anyone in need. There were five parts to it: the food bank, the soup kitchen that served healthy fresh food, the rehabilitation center, housing, and a library. I dont get the library, said Teddy. I understand the rest, but why does a poor person need books? The mind is a muscle, said Donnie. And to keep it in working order, one must exercise it. Reading books is exercise for the brain. It isnt like television, where all the answers are given. A book requires imagination and creativity. I dont get it either, said Pearl, who was appointed to manage the day to day of this organization. Plus I got enough troubles on my hand as it is. I dont need to be Ms. Barnett, making sure people return their novels on time. Trust me, said Donnie. A library is a good idea. If it werent for libraries, I wouldnt be where I am today. I need some fresh air, said Pearl. I been on my feet all day. Can we have this discussion outside?

Donnie, Pearl, and Teddy left the library, and walked past some handymen, and went outside for some fresh air. Pearl reached into her front pocket, and took out a distinct red and white box, from which she obtained a cigarette. She looked at everyone else. Anyone? she said. Donnie and Teddy gestured no with their hands. No thanks, said Teddy. I have issues with smoke already. Alright, said Pearl. But dont ask later; I might be out. Pearl lit her cigarette and started puffing away. Yep, so, said Donnie, anxiously, what do you think of my charity? Oh, its a great idea, said Teddy. No bones about it. Any complaints? Why would I complain? I dunno. But do you think She would be proud? I think she would be very proud. I didnt finish my question. What? I didn't complete your sentence right?" No, you have failed more than the crack addicted mother I've never met." Pearl chimed in. Christ," she said, "thats not something you should make light of. Oh, relax, said Donnie. Thats all in the past. Past is passed. I dont have such a morbid sense of humor, said Pearl. I take life a bit more seriously. You should take it less seriously, said Donnie. "Speaking of life, hey, arent you single, Teddy? Why do you ask? said Teddy. Ive been thinking, said Donnie. Again with the thinking, said Pearl. Donnie repeated himself, Ive been thinking. Youre single, Teddy, and Pearls single, why dont you two get together? Whyre you always have to try setting me up with people? said Teddy. I like the single life, alright. I like being a bachelor. Its fun. I know youre lonely, said Donnie. Dont pretend. Whenever you look at me you have that deep lost look, like you just saw a white tiger. I dont even know what that means, said Teddy. Likewise, said Pearl. Cmaaan, you guys, said Donnie, pleading. My best friend, and my best female employee getting together, what could go wrong? Plenty, said Teddy. Now, stop pushing the issue. Donnie nudged Teddy with his elbow and whisperd. But shes very attractive. Dont you think, hmmm? Why don't you give her your phone number. I could give it to her myself, but that would be rude. Teddy whispered back. Will you leave me alone? I can hear everything you two are saying, said Pearl, and I have to tell you Im not interested.

There, you heard it, said Teddy. We both do not care for your matchmaker plans. I can be quite persuasive, said Donnie. Pearl, go out on a date with Teddy and Ill give you a 5% pay raise. Done, said Pearl. Teddy groaned. As for you, said Donnie. Okay, okay, said Teddy. Ill go out on a date with Pearl. Are you happy now? Very happy, said Donnie. Teddy came home after finishing his date with Pearl. As he stepped into the living room he spotted Donnie waiting on the living room sofa. Donnie had his legs crossed and hands in his lap, seeming very pleased. How long have you been waiting there? said Teddy. Teddy unbuttoned his nice shirt and took off his coat, which he put on the coat rack. Long enough, said Donnie. So, how was your date? How was my date? said Teddy. He turned to Donnie. Terrible. Terrible. What do you mean? I was so embarrassed. We have no chemistry whatsoever. None, not even a little? It was a bad idea to begin with, and a bad idea to end with. Well, what specifically was so terrible? I dunno! The whole thing, okay! You sound really angry, my good friend. I am angry, and you dont even understand why. Youre right. I dont understand why youre so mad about a date with a pretty woman. Please, dont take that condescending tone with me. Im just looking out for you. Stop looking out for me. Okay? I dont need your help. I dont want you to get involved in my love life. What love life? There you go with that attitude again. Like you know it all. I know more than you. Oh, be quiet. Dont tell me to be quiet. Why not?! You should be quiet! Sometimes you need to shut your goddamn yapper! Not every idea you have is a piece of gold! Get over yourself! Donnie look hurt. Teddy threw off his shirt, in anger, and went upstairs. No more words were exchanged for the rest of the night. Chapter 10: Grand Opening All previous arguments were resolved, or at least ignored, and Donnie was feeling much better today. His purchase of weights from the department store gave him the appearance

of a slightly toned man, and his homeless shelter (the Underwood Temporary Residence Center) was completed, ready for business. He donned a suit he had rented, and then the left the house to go wait at the bus stop. He used the bus, as he wanted to commiserate with his fellow man. He did not think that being swanky would help his cause. The bus came ten minutes after it was supposed to. When the narrow rectangular doors opened, Donnie stepped on. He dropped some coins into the coin box. The driver looked at him funny, thinking that a man in a suit didn't belong here. Regardless, Donnie was fine with himself, and happily walked down to the middle of the bus. When the bus started moving he started noticing the lady that was in front of him. She had one arm up, holding onto the metal pole going horizontally. Donnie tried to sneak a peak at her, but each time he leaned left or right she would turn away exactly enough so that he could not see her face. "I'm sure that's Kate," Donnie said in his head. "I'm pretty sure it is." He continued his thoughts, going back and forth like he were two people. "Tap her on the shoulder and see." "I can't." "Why not?" "What if it's not her." "So?" "What do I say?" "Just explain yourself. Say you mistook her for someone else. I'm sure she wouldn't get too annoyed." "Well..." "Do it!" "Alright, alright, no need to be pushy." Donnie tapped the lady on the shoulder. She spun around and started battering him with her hands "Leave me alone, you creep!" she said several times. Donnie shielded himself with his hands, and seized the lady by the shoulders. "Kate," he said, "calm down! It's me!" Kate calmed down, and then brushed her hair back as if nothing unusual had happened. "Oh," she said. "I remember you. We went on that date, right?" "Right," said Donnie. "At the movie theater, where I got beat up." "Seems to happen to you quite a bit," said Kate. "I'm well aware." "Sorry about hitting you. I'm kind of on edge today." "Apology accepted." "By the way what's your name again?" "You don't know?" "I know, but I'm double checking." "Right. I'm Donnie." "Donnie, ah-ha, I knew it!" "So, what're you doing on this bus?" "Going to a job interview. And you? What's with the suit? Some sort of business thing?" "Oh this, yeah, I'm going to the grand opening of my homeless shelter." "Homeless shelters have grand openings?" "They do now." "Hm..." Kate narrowed her perfect eyes. Now Donnie hesitated to say what he was going to say next, what he wanted to say right from the start. Kate stood there, rumbling along with the bus, waiting for him to speak up.

"What is it?" said Kate. "You're giving me that look." "Uh, well, er," said Donnie. "Out with it." "...Why didn't you return my calls?" "I've been busy." "Doing what? If you don't mind my asking." "I've just been trying to make ends meet. You know, stuff like that." "Oh." "So, are you angry with me for not returning your calls?" "I can't be angry at a face like that." "It's a good face, isn't it?" "A very good face." Donnie scratched the back of his head. "So, uh," he said, "what else have you been up to?" "I'm moving out of my old place," said Kate. "Are you?" said Donnie. "Yep. I'm being evicted from my apartment. I should be kicked out in a week or so." "Oh no, that's terrible." "It's happened before. I'm not worried." Suddenly Donnie came up with a scheme. "Hey, why don't you move in with me?" "What's that?" said Kate. "I have a place that you can stay in." "I'd rather not impose. Plus I have another friend that I'm thinking of moving in with." "Don't move in with your friend. Move in with me. I have a very nice home. It's enormous -- and it has a pool." "Maybe I'll swing by later and see it." "Uh, wait! No! You can't!" "Why not?" "It's being heavily renovated." "That's no problem." "But you can't, 'cause, uh, there's wet paint. And heavy dangerous equipment. And there aren't any floors. It's a hazardous area. Bad for your health." "I don't understand. No floors?" "As I said, very heavy renovation." "Okay. It's alright." "I'll let you know when it's done. Might be a week or two -- or three, or four." "Forget I asked." "Just have some patience. Trust me, when you come over and see it you will have your socks thoroughly knocked off. The place has a bowling alley! Can you believe it?" "Wow, that sounds great, but maybe too expensive for me?" "It won't be expensive." "How's that? It has a bowling alley. You're describing a palace."

"It is very palatial like, yes, buuuut you'll be staying with me for free. Absolutely free. Not a penny is required." "What's the catch?" "There's no catch. I'm a very well off guy. And I'm interested in helping people. As you noticed I'm headed to a homeless shelter that I created." "Right." "I'm serious. No catch, no strings attached. You can come and stay at my place when I'm done renovating it." "Alright, you've convinced me. I'll take you up on your offer. I just hope you're not pulling my chain." "I would never pull your chain," said Donnie. Then the bus came to a stop. He said his goodbyes to Kate and quickly got off onto the sidewalk, where he proceeded to his newly created homeless shelter. Pristine and shiny, he cut the ribbon at front, with Pearl, using a giant pair of novelty scissors. Chapter 11: I'm Leaving Outside the house was quiet, but inside was loud. Teddy and Donnie were in the living room. Teddy had his arms folded. Donnie stood stiff while getting an earful. "I don't get it," said Teddy. "Am I doing something wrong?" "There's no need to get defensive," said Donnie. "I wanna move out. Is that such a big deal? I'm not leaving the country -- again." "I'm sorry if I'm offended. I just thought we were getting along." "We are getting along. But I want some room, y'know." "There's plenty of room. I don't have a family or anything. I don't even have a hamster." "That's swell, but you realize this was supposed to only be temporary? I need to be on my own two feet. I feel like a burden." "You're not a burden, Donnie. I like having you around. You're my best friend." "I know, but there's still the fact that I'm a grown man, living in someone else's place. Don't you think I should be independent?" "Yes." "Then what's the problem? What's the real problem, Teddy?" "I dunno. I, I just don't like the idea of you leaving." "Why? Hmm? I'm not getting this." "Well, you're going to be living with a woman." "And? What's the big deal? What're you jealous? Are you gay or something?" "No! I'm not gay. Don't be stupid. I just know what's going to happen." "What could happen?" "You're going to get swept up with this female and start ignoring me." "I will not ignore you. Don't be ridiculous. I'm going to call you, and I'll visit you. Jeez, I won't even be that far away." "Fine. But I still think you're being a show off." "Am not."

"Yeah, you are. You've always been a show off. You always have to show off what you have. And I bet you're going to buy the best house money can afford. Of course to impress your girl." "Wait, what about me says I'm a show off?" "Just your general attitude. It's so damn smug." "Oooh, is it? You're the one who always brags about being a fireman. Well, hey, guess what -- you haven't put out a fire since I met you!" "It's not about the amount of fires you put out." "Then what is it about?" "Why are we talking about my career?" Donnie turned opposite to Teddy. "I'm going out," he said. "Where?" said Teddy. "Somewhere," said Donnie. "I'd rather not tell you." "That's mature," said Teddy. Donnie took his coat from the coat rack and went out. He walked a few paces and went to to the nearby plaza, where there was a convenience store that had bars all over the windows, and a phone booth. The phone booth was separate from the convenience store. Donnie went inside and leaned against the clear plastic wall for a moment. He took out the big yellow phone book, beneath the steel shelf, and placed it atop. He flipped through it for a minute, out of habit, and then put it away. Then he went into his pocket and obtained a small thin item that was rectangular in shape. It was his own personal phone book, a directory, that was kept together with two shaped magnets. In between was a super long, multi-folded piece of paper, with lines, that held a plethora of numbers. Donnie ran his finger along and located Kate's name. He knew it by heart, since calling her so many times, but had to double check (since he was so meticulous by nature). He lifted the receiver of the payphone and dialed appropriately. He was nervous. He had something to tell her. As he listened to the ringback tone, he tried to silence the voice in his head that was thinking about Teddy. "He'll be okay," said Donnie. "Don't worry. You'll make up and then everything will be fine. He's probably just in a bad mood. Guys get moody too. That time of the month isn't just for women." "Hello?" said a voice through the receiver. Donnie snapped out of his thoughts. "Uh, hello, hi," he said. "Is this Kate? I hope it is." "Yes," said Kate through the phone. "May I ask who is speaking?" "Me," said Donnie. "Me who?" "Donnie." "Which Donnie?" "You know more than one Donnie?" "Yes." "Okay. Well, I'm Donnie Underwood." "Donnie Underwood, I knew it! How are you?" "I'm doing...okay. You?"

"I've had better days." "Why what happened?" "Tired, I guess -- so what do you want?" Donnie swallowed some spittle in his throat. He needed to tell Kate the truth about the place that he said he had. "Kate," he said, slowly. "I have to tell you something." "Alright," said Kate. "And I don't want you to be angry," said Donnie. "But if you are that's okay too." "Oh, Jesus. It's gonna be bad, isn't it? I knew it, I knew it, I just freaking knew it. I bet you aren't even who you say you are. You're some sort of con artist that's trying to turn his life around. And now you're pouring your heart out to me, confessing. Y'know, I didn't think someone like you could be so well off. I can't believe I didn't see it. What type of person with a cushy job takes a bus? It's crazy." "Um, that isn't it at all actually." "Then what is it?" "Remember when we were on the bus?" "It comes to mind." "And I told you about how you could move into a place I had?" "Yes." "That place doesn't exist." "No pool?" "No pool." "I ought to hang up on you right now, you liar. I hate liars. They're the worst thing ever." "You act like you've never lied before." "I only do it in death or life situations." "Well, can you forgive me?" There was silence over the phone, since silence was an appropriate response for something so slightly grave. "Alright," said Kate, "I forgive you." "Oh, thank you, thank you," said Donnie. "I'll definitely make it up to you." "And how?" "This weekend are you free?" "Maybe. Why do you ask?" Several houses were seen, but not one of them satisfied Donnie nor Kate. The real estate agent named Brenda took them to the last place she had available. She stopped her car to let everyone out. They came upon a mansion that was part of an affluent community. It was three stories tall, had fancy double doors, pillars that held up a roof over the entrance, stained glass windows, stone lions, and even hedge figures. There was a multigarage to the side that could hold exactly five cars. "Now, uh," said Brendan, leading Donnie and Kate to the manor, "I don't know whether you can afford this, but I thought I'd show you for fun." "Can you afford this?" said Kate to Donnie. "If I wanted to," said Donnie.

"Not to be rude," said Brenda. "But I don't think you two could afford this place. I mean how much savings can you have at this age? You barely look thirty, and your wife looks even younger." "Much, much younger," said Kate. "And I'm not his wife." "Girlfriend?" said Brenda. "Just friends," said Donnie. Brenda, Donnie, and Kate went into the mansion. They were struck at the magnificence, the grand staircase, the marble floors, the high ceilings, the crystal chandelier, and the abundance of space. "Here we are," said Brenda. "What do you think?" "Let's see the rest," said Kate as she held onto Donnie's arm. So, Brenda showed her clients the dining room, the kitchen with the island in the middle, the bedrooms -- all ten of them -- the family room, the library, the solarium, the bar, the pool house, the huge dining room that could fit several families, and the full sized movie theater. They all returned to where they once had entered. Donnie and Kate were equally impressed. "Everything's great..." said Donnie. "It's amazing," said Kate. "...But," said Donnie, continuing, "I noticed one thing." "What's that?" said Brenda. "There aren't any gates," said Donnie. "You want gates?" said Brenda. "Well, yes," said Donnie. "In this type of city you need gates. This area isn't too far from the wrong side of the tracks. Plus a mansion doesn't quite feel complete without gates." "There's plenty of security outside," said Brenda. "That in addition to the police, who do us the favor of patrolling our area a wee bit more." "But why no gates?" said Donnie. "You're very insistent on gates," said Brenda. "Do you have a gate fetish?" "Can we build our own gates?" said Donnie. "No," said Brenda. "Unfortunately the community thinks that all gates and high fences are unsightly and garish." "Where does it say that?" said Donnie. "There's a booklet of 'Covenants, Conditions, and Restrictions' available," said Brenda, "through the Homeowner Association. I can get you a copy if you'd like." "Never mind," said Donnie. "I'll leave the final decision to my...uh, Kate." "No, no," said Kate. "We should discuss it together." "Can we have a minute?" said Donnie. "Sure," said Brenda. Donnie and Kate left Brenda for the moment, and went into the dining room to discuss matters. "I love it," Kate whispered. "Are you sure?" said Donnie. "I've never been more surer in my life," said Kate.

"Don't you think it's a little excessive? I mean ten rooms for two people? Ten really big rooms." "We can always use it for other things." "I dunno. It's a bit much." "You can't afford it is what you're saying." "That's not it at all." "Okay, so what's the problem?" "Do you think we can rent the place?" "I don't think it's for rent." "Hm, I just don't know." "The decision is up to you. You don't have to ask for my opinion -- although I don't think my opinion's are entirely worthless." Donnie looked at Kate, Kate's smiling face, and then to Brenda in the distance, who appeared extremely anxious. Donnie took Kate by the hand, and the two returned to Brenda. "Brenda," said Donnie, "we've come to a decision." After those words Donnie haggled shortly with the real estate agent and they all settled upon an agreeable price -- 10% less of the asking, which wasn't much of a discount, since Brenda had originally upped the price knowing that someone would come along and ask for 10% less or more. Thus, she got exactly what she wanted. Donnie packed his things while Teddy watched. He leaned in the frame of the door, looking quite sagged. Donnie put down his cardboard box. "Do you have to watch me like that?" said Donnie. "My boy's growing up and moving out," said Teddy. "Oh, knock it off," said Donnie. "Have a sense of humor." "I know you're still real pissed." "You got it wrong. I'm totally cool. I can always find a new best friend." "Hey!" "Joking. I'm joking." You're prodding me on purpose. Am not. Teddy picked up a box. In fact, I'll help you pack. Donnie was skeptical of his friend's enthusiasm, but said, Okay, fine. Donnie and Teddy went outside to pack up Donnie's van. They did it in a hurried fashion, since the day was getting late. Donnie placed the last box into the cargo area. The vehicle was just about full. Well, that's the last of it, said Donnie, dusting his hands. I guess I should get going. Wait, not yet, said Teddy. Hmm? said Donnie. I have something for you. Oh? Yeah. It's nothing big. Just a little parting gift. You know, to wish you good luck and all that.

What is it? Teddy took out a parcel from behind his back and handed it over to Donnie. Donnie took note of the brown paper wrapping, the white string that held it together. He pulled the bow-knot atop and unwrapped it. Inside were toys, an assortment of them, and one photo album for filling placed in the middle. No way! said Donnie. No way, man! He took out an action figure. You gave me your white ninja! Yeeep, said Teddy. I hope you like it. Donnie gave Teddy a boa constrictor-like hug. Alllright, said Teddy, you're hurting me. Sorry, said Donnie. He let go. I just really appreciate the gesture... Thanks. So, I guess you'll be on your way now? Donnie closed the back door of the van, and then went ahead into the driver's seat. He waved goodbye and drove forward, while watching his friend Teddy disappear in the rear-view mirror. Donnie took his time; he was actually reluctant to leave. As he was driving along he noticed an old man putting up a for sale sign on his lawn. He rolled down his window and stopped to talk with Mr. Earwood. Mr. Earwood had a scowl on his face. It seemed to be a permanent affliction. Excuse me, said Donnie. What do you want? said Mr. Earwood. He pulled his flat cap over his eyes. I see your place is for sale, said Donnie. What about it? Well, how much is it going for? Looks like a nice place. It ain't nothing, and I'm not sellin' it to you. Now, g'on hit the road. I don't want no trouble. Why won't you sell it to me? You can't afford it. I know 'bout that much. What makes you say that? This area ain't in the ghetto side. It's outta your price range. Try findin' a shack on the south side. You're awfully hostile. I know your types, always stirrin' up troubles. My 'types' huh? Young people. Thank you. But what is it you hate about 'young people'? They gots nothing better to do with themselves. They listen to terrible music, they dress ugly, and they talk like fools. They say things like 'dissing' and 'da bomb.' On top that they don't even know how to use regular words neither. To them 'wicked' and 'bad' means good. How's that make sense? I tell you, it's true, youth is wasted on the young." "George Bernard Shaw?" "That's not how you pronounce my name." "Anyway, I think you're being too harsh on young people. And I don't think there's wrong with saying 'da bomb.' It is sort of a catchy phrase. IS NOT GUMDARNIT!

Did you say 'gumdarnit'? That's how people in my day used to swear. Real classy like. We never actually swore. We jess said things that sounded like swears. For example: kippy kabosh. Donnie scratched his head. What does that mean? Mr. Earwood finished hammering down his for-sale sign. It means, gumdarnit, bugger off if yah know what's good for yah. I'm sure glad I wasn't born in the 1830s. Otherwise, I'd be dead. Took gumption to survive in my day, boy. There was no phones and compooters. You made do with tin cans and string. In my book they're still the most reliable form of communication. Right. So about your house -- I told yah, gumdarnit, am not sellin' it to you. But -- Pick up your britches and walk away. You ain't gonna change mah mind. Well, okay then. Goodbye, Mr. -- Earwood. And don't you forget it. Yes, Mr. Earwood. Donnie turned around his van and returned to Teddy's place. When he went onto the driveway there was Teddy still standing. You never left? said Donnie. I have a day off, said Teddy. What's it to you? Hey, do you know of a crotchety old man living down the street? Crotchety? Ah, that should be Mr. Earwood. Why do you ask? He's selling his house. Is he? Yeah, and I wanna buy it. To live in? Teddy contained his smile, while remaining skeptical. Yeah to live in, said Donnie. Is that so hard to believe? Well, said Teddy, and what about your Kate? I'm sure she won't mind a change of plans, particularly this one. Okay, lemme get this straight. So you're going to buy that house down the street, meanwhile she'll be living all alone in your nice, big mansion? You have any objections? No, no, I just think it's weird. It's not weird. Anyway, uh, so what's the house going for? Shouldn't be too bad. This area isn't the greatest. Price is probably the last thing on my mind. The first thing I gotta do is convince him to sell it to me. He said he doesn't like my type. Ha! That old sonuffabitch. He's never liked anyone. Did he even make eye contact with you? When he told me to get the hell away, yeah. But maybe we can still persuade him to sell his house to you. How? I might have a plan.

The sliding doors of Lucky Seven Supermarket only opened part way, but Donnie and Teddy managed to get through. They grabbed a shopping cart and went to the back. (The back is where supermarkets keep all the things you need, like eggs and milk, in order to get you to browse all the items and spend more of your money.) What do you think the old man wants? said Donnie. Old people stuff, said Teddy. Cigars, booze, cheese, etc. Cigars and booze, alright, said Donnie. But cheese? It's a good, tasty source of protein, and the number one thing that people shoplift at grocery stores. Right. So you really think after we get him all this stuff he'll let me buy his house? As they say, the fastest way to a man's heart is through his stomach. I always thought it was another human organ. What do you mean by oh, nasty. Heh. Donnie and Teddy turned to go into another aisle. They grabbed whatever caught their eyes and threw it into their cart. Do you think all old men turn out like Mr. Earwood? said Donnie whilst reading the ingredients on a pack of potato chips, the kind that came in a tennis ball canister. Do they all become miserable grumps? Actually, said Teddy, he was kind of okay when he first moved into the street with his wife. I think they downgraded to save money for retirement. He had a wife? said Donnie. Oh, yeah, said Teddy. In the summers I'd see them hanging outside, just sitting in front of their house, staring at people passing by. Where's his wife now? Dead. Damn... What happened? I think she got an infection or something. What was the infection? Dance fever. Uh -- She died while on the dance floor. She got a massive hear attack. Dropped dead right then and there. They couldn't resuscitate her. Really? No, not really. Donnie and Teddy filled their shopping cart full and took all their items over to the checkout. They waited in line behind a handful people. It was taking longer than necessary, since the cashier was slow, and the customer at front was using pennies to pay for everything. She had about two buckets worth. Legally a retailer is allowed to refuse a certain amount of pennies, but most people working minimum wage aren't really aware. That and they mostly just want to the pass time. We'll be here forever, said Teddy.

Forever's a pretty long time, said Donnie. "You know, a million years is not even close to forever. Are you saying we're going to be here for more than a million years?" Okay. Fine. Let's say an hour? An hour? That's way too long. Ugh! I hate waiting in lines. Yeah. Who doesn't? I should've brought a book or something to read. At least I'd be entertained." Hey. Use your own imagination. It's better than a book. Maybe I'll imagine a future where there are no lines. Let's see. You can, hmm, shop for things on your computer. Using pictures? Yep. Video? Let's not go nuts. The lady at the front of the line finished paying for all her items. She took them in a paper bag and hobbled outside. Donnie and Teddy were relieved as the line seemed to be moving faster. Donnie patted his side pocket, making sure that his wallet was secure and ready to pay. The two were only one person away from the cashier when another person came into the grocery store. The man who came in was unusually dressed, bundled up despite the warm weather. He jumped to the front of the line, which made the cashier speak up. Excuse me, said the cashier named Grace. (It was indicated on her name tag.) You'll have to move. The line starts at the other end. The man, adjusted his winter mask that obscured his face, and yelled. Shut the fuck up, fool, and break yo' self! He pulled out a handgun. In fear all the customers in line leaned back against one another. Donnie looked at Teddy. Do something! he whispered. Teddy whispered back. I'm not a cop I'm a fireman! Why you jess standing there!? said Herman to Grace. Empty the gawdamn register! Herman was the robber in this scenario. While his name was not important to anyone around, it was to him. Do I have to repeat myself?! said Herman as his gun trembled in his hands. Empty the gawdamn register! Don't make me repeat myself! I don't want to repeat myself! Grace stood frozen behind the counter. Though she had experienced crime before, like many others, she wasn't used to the idea of a gun in her face. The worst she experienced was a knife and maybe a brick to her skull. I don't have time for this! said Herman. Argh! While waving his gun around in frustration he accidentally caused it to go off. A bullet sped through the air and plunged into Grace's chest. As she fell to the floor, screaming about how she was shot, Herman dropped his weapon and ran to escape. But the crummy motion activated doors would not let him out. For the love of God! he said. Someone let me out!

He kicked and banged on the glass until it broke, and then ran out like a scared animal when it had shattered. Donnie and Teddy stopped their gawking and went over to Grace to help her out. The customers surrounded, watching the cashier weep profusely. Oh, lawd, oh, lawd, oh lawd, she said while clutching her chest. I'm gonna die, ain't I? Please, lord, Jesus, help me in my time of need. Am a good woman, why you doing this to me? Calm down, said Teddy. Don't waste your energy. He took a cloth, bundled it up, and pressed it into Grace's wound to help stop the bleeding. Grace groaned in pain while Donnie made a call to 9-1-1. Hello, operator? An ambulance arrived some forty minutes later. Grace was taken to the nearby hospital, but doctors could do nothing about her injury as the bullet that hit her had went into a vital organ: her heart. Donnie and Teddy only learned about her passing when she appeared in the obit section of the city newspaper. It didn't make the front page, since shootings weren't all too uncommon. She died for minimum wage, was Donnie's first thought. Chapter 12: Ear Wood Due to earlier tragic events Donnie and Teddy had to visit Mr. Earwood some days later. On his porch they held four large bags filled with groceries and gifts. Teddy, hands full, used his elbow to ring the doorbell. The doorbell, like it was supposed to, went dingdong! However, there was no answer. Still Donnie and Teddy waited impatiently. What's taking so long? said Donnie. Relax, said Teddy. Give it a minute. It's been more than a minute, said Donnie. Okay, two minutes, said Teddy. But Donnie put down the bags in his arms and rang the doorbell again -- and again, and again, and again. Teddy scolded him. Stop it, he said. Remember, we're trying to get on Mr. Earwood's good side? Only trying to help, said Donnie. He might be hard of hearing. No way, said Teddy. That man could hear a pin drop. Then what's taking so long? I dunno. Maybe the doorbell's broken. I heard it ring. Oh, something doesn't feel right. He's probably just out. Let's go. We'll come back another time. But he never goes out -- at least not at this time. What're you, his keeper? Hold on. Wait here. I'm gonna see what's up. Teddy put down his grocery bags, and Donnie watched his friend go off to the side of the house and Jimmy open a window. After he climbed through, the front door swung open.

Let's go, said Teddy, inside Mr. Earwood's house. Isn't this breaking and entering? said Donnie. I didn't do any breaking, said Teddy. Donnie sighed and went through the door. He and Teddy stepped about carefully in the house, searching for Mr. Earwood. They went through the main floor, and all upstairs to no avail. Frustrated they called out. Mr. Earwood! Like before they received no answer. Guess he's not here, said Donnie. Wait, said Teddy, we never checked the basement. Forget it, said Donnie. I'm not going. What's the matter? Are you afraid? Me? Afraid? Cha right. Are you still afraid of the dark? I see what you're doing and it's not going to work. Okay, Dawn. Whatever you say. Did you just say 'Dawn' or 'Don'? ...Chicken! You're chicken! Bok-bok-bok! Alright! Fine! I'll come along! Donnie led the way, then he and Teddy went to the door under the main stairs. They turned on the light, which was too dim, and went down the creaky steps. They got to bottom. They looked to the left of the basement and to the right. It was hard to make out anything, except some boxes piled up. Smells gross down here, said Donnie. It's very familiar, said Teddy. I think we should leave. It's not too late. Stop being stubborn, Donnie. We're already down here. Let's just keep going. Fiiine. But if a monster jumps out at us, I'm leaving you in the dust. Doubtful. I'm in better shape than you. Nuh-uh! said Donnie, and then he and Teddy went onward. The two took a left turn at a bare wall and discovered a door. From the cracls of it came the strong odor that they had smelled before. It was so overwhelming that Donnie felt dizzy, and could hardly breathe. He leaned against Teddy for support. Somehow Teddy had an immunity to this stench. You gonna be alright? said Teddy. It's like skunk and rotten eggs, said Donnie. What is it? I'm afraid I might know, said Teddy. Then he rolled up his sleeves, took a step back, and charged forward. His shoulder rammed open the door, revealing the contents of the room the swollen, bloated corpse of Mr. Earwood. Mr. Earwood, or his corpse rather, was hung from his neck. The light from the small window behind illuminated his tongue that laid limp over his icy blue lips, and the flies spinning around for a meal. It also showed his cocktail dress and the makeup he had on: blue eyeshadow, pink blush, mascara, red lipstick, and equally red nail polish. Jesus Christ, said Donnie, who had his mouth covered to avoid breathing in the stench. "Is that Mr. Earwood? Why's he in drag?"

Hold on, said Teddy. I think see something. Teddy walked to Earwood's corpse and plucked the piece of line paper taped to his middle. He pulled it off and read it aloud: I cannot go on any longer as I have suffered too long under the guise of a man. And alas I cannot afford the necessary operations to appear as the sex I deserve to be. Yet I am woman, hear me roar. Goodbye, cruel world." "What does that mean?" said Donnie. "He's a transexual? He didn't actually think he was a woman, did he?" "You have a problem with him identifying as a woman?" said Teddy. "Well, no, he's dead," said Donnie. "Let's say he was alive," said Teddy. "He calls himself a woman. What do you say about that?" "I'd say horseshit, he's not a woman. Look at him. He still has the reproductive organs of a man." "What if he went through surgery?" "That only changes you on the outside." "That doesn't count for anything?" "No, because a person's sex is determined by their reproductive abilities. A man has sperm, and a woman has eggs and she can be impregnated. That's what makes you male or female. It's nothing to do with looks. I mean there are women who look like men, but you'd get socked in the jaw if you called them otherwise. Have you heard of man hands?" "Still, I think out of respect we should accept him for who he thought he was." "I dunno." "Please." "Why do you even care?" "I feel sorry for him." "Alright, fine. It's a shame SHE died." "Thank you." Donnie wiped the sweat off his forehead, as the steam from the corpse of Mr. Earwood made him sweat. But what a way to go, huh?" he said. At least you can buy the house now," said Teddy. Chapter 13: Jazz, Man After Mr. Earwood's funeral, which was attended by only four people, and paid for by Donnie, Donnie went to the mansion that he had previously purchased. He was there to help Kate move in a couple pieces of furniture. He took a rest, sitting on the trunk he was supposed to carry inside. Kate came out and handed him a glass of water. Thanks, said Donnie. You know it'd be much easier, said Kate, if we got some help. I don't need help, said Donnie, who was trying to appear extra manly. I'm fine. This is easy peasy. He took in a deep breath. I can do this all day. But the trunk is the lightest thing we have, and you've already broken out into a sweat.

I'm not sweating, uuuh, I'm glistening. There's a difference. Right. Do you want any help? Maybe I could lift -- No, no, said Donnie, that isn't necessary. I can handle this myself. He stood up from the trunk he was sitting on, and grabbed one end of it, and dragged (not drug) it into the mansion. He pulled it along on the floor until he got to the stairs. He heaved it up while Kate stood below. Don't hurt your back, said Kate. I won't, said Donnie. I can help if you want, I really can. I'm alright, Kate. But I feel so useless. If you want to do something, why don't you amuse me with some idle chat while I drag this beast up the staircase, hm? Wanna hear a joke? Sure. Can it be dirty? Why not? Okay. I'm not very good at this... So, this pirate walks into a bar with a steering wheel attached to his penis. The bartender looks at him and says, 'What's with the steering wheel?' The pirate replies, 'YAAARGH! It's drivin' me nuts!' Donnie laughed, so hard that he let go off the trunk he was pulling. It slid down the stairs, and almost bowled over Kate. Fortunately, she side stepped out of the way. Oh, God, said Donnie. Are you okay? I'm fine, said Kate. why don't we take a little break? So, Donnie and Kate did just that. They sat by the kitchen island, side by side, on two stools, and drank hot coffee and tea. I'm still surprised that you won't be living here, said Kate. It's a really nice place. I want to, said Donnie. Believe me I want to. But I need to stay humble. I am running a charity after all for poor people. Are there any charities that aren't for poor people? I don't know. Hmm... Well. I suppose you think this whole arrangement is pretty unusual, huh? It is awfully nice of you though. Kate then put her hand on Donnie's knee, affectionately, and felt something hard and lumpy. (No, not that. Your dirty little --) What's this? said Kate, feeling Donnie. Donnie reached into his pants and took out a gun. He laid it on the counter. Omigod, said Kate. Why do you have a gun? You don't need a gun. She pushed it away. That's easy to say when you'll be staying in the rich part of the city, said Donnie. But having a gun is dangerous.

It's more dangerous to not have it. People here are dirty animals. You have to be able to defend yourself. I don't like it. So, what you want me to get rid of it? If you don't, I'll lose respect for you. Donnie thought for a minute, and then, conceding, put his gun away into a drawer of the kitchen island. He slammed it shut. There, he said, do you feel better now? Yes, said Kate. I'm very pleased. Well, said Donnie, I guess I don't have gun -- will not travel. Don't act like you've lost your manhood, said Kate. You'll be fine without it. Now, drink your tea. It's English Breakfast. Oh! said Donnie. You just reminded me of something. He snapped his fingers. I wanted to ask you a question. What is it? There's new cafe opening up, and I thought you'd like to go with me. What kind of cafe? A jazz cafe. Well, they play other music too, but it's mainly jazz. Anyone else gonna be there? No. Just us. And the customers. But we don't know them. I dunno. I don't think I can. Why not? I'm busy. I haven't even told you the date yet. Okay, what's the date? This Saturday or Friday. Take your pick. Aw, sorry, no can do. Are you sure? Well, I don't know... There might be a chance I'm not doing anything. Okay, said Donnie. "I know what that means." His head drooped a bit. Oh, by the way, did I tell you I'm buying another place? Really? said Kate. It's not another mansion or anything like that. Just a regular sized home. I'm gonna put in an offer when it's up for sale, which should be pretty soon. I think I'll get a good price. What makes you say that? Oh, I have a gut feeling about it. Okay. Let me know when you move in. Maybe I can give you a house warming gift. Do you like homemade brownies? You can bake?" Not yet. To avoid the plague of squatters that were so common in the city, Donnie was given permission to immediately move into the late Mr. Earwood's house, despite not even having written a check for a down payment. Except for the stench that lingered in the basement the place was quite well kept. Electricity, and heat, and all the amenities had

not been cut off. The telephone lines were working too and Donnie had given Kate his new number. He could have changed it, but decided to keep it to honor the now dead previous owner. Donnie waited this Friday for a phone call from his blonde female friend. He sat in his armchair, borrowed from Teddy, and hoped that she would give him a call. He crossed his legs while tapping his fingers. He was growing increasingly anxious. He thought the world of Kate, and wanted to make up for the last horrendous date that they had together at the cinema. Suddenly the phone beside, on the stand, started ringing. Ring-ring! Donnie picked it up and answered eagerly. Hello, he said. Kate? Not Kate, said the voice in a monotonous tone. Who is this? said Donnie. Pearl, said Pearl. Oh, uh, what do you want? Money. You get right to it, don't you? Not for me. Your charity. We're overwhelmed with 'visitors.' We need money for food and clothing. And books. They keep taking the books and not returning them. That's a good thing, I think. So can you cut us a check or what? How much? Donnie nearly jumped out of his seat when he heard the answer. But Pearl, however, was too nonchalant. A bit much? said Pearl. I'm pretty sure you have more than enough. I do, said Donnie. I just didn't expect it to be that much. Okay I'll have it sent out as soon as possible. Thank you. And Donnie hung up the phone. On his chair he continued waiting, then there was another call. He picked up again. Kate? he said. Hi! said an exuberant voice. Is this Mr. Earwood? Oh, I'm sorry, he passed away, said Donnie. May I ask who I am speaking to? You called me. I should I ask who you are. Would you like to save money on your insurance? Guyko Insurance can give you a savings rate of up to fifteen -- Donnie hung up the phone and stood. I should get out and get some fresh air, he thought aloud. It's pathetic waiting around all day for a phone call. He started talking to himself. Donnie Underwood, have some dignity. You can't treat yourself like this. You must a strong independent spirit, and you must -- The phone rang. Donnie dove to it and picked up the receiver. Kate, hello?! he said.

Hey, Donnie, said Allison. How're you doing? Allison? said Donnie. We heard that wait a minute, did you just call me Kate? Uuuuuh, no. Look, Donnie. I know you're really attracted to that girl, but let me tell you something -- she won't do you any good. And why is that? I won't say anything bad about her. But her personality and your personality do no match at all. You need to find someone else. Did she tell you to say that? I'm being serious here. I think you're jealous. Screw you, alright! Okay, okay, I'm sorry. That's better. Now, what're you calling for? Oh, a new jazz cafe opened up, and I was wondering if you wanted to go. With me and George of course. It's not a date. I know that... Uh, I dunno. I might have something to do. Might? Can you or can't you? Are you busy? Actually I was hoping to go there with Kate. Forget about Kate. Come to the cafe with us and have a good time. Don't waste your time waiting on her. I know that's what you're doing. Donnie was annoyed, but could not deny the truth. Fine, he said, I'll go with you. And George. Great, said Allison. We'll pick you up at eight. "I'll be ready," said Donnie. The jazz cafe was vibrant and alive. A band played on a small sized stage while Donnie, Allison, and George sat around a circular table. They glanced the groups of people dancing carefree, enjoying their time in a place that was more upscale than what they were used to. Donnie mixed some sugar into his tea while Allison and George snapped their fingers to the music. This place is off the hook! said George. Thanks for getting us in, Allison said to Donnie. We'd probably still be waiting in line if it weren't for you. No problem, said Donnie. Hey, said George, what's the name of that singer? She's real good. Amy something, said Allison. And check out that hairdo, George added. She's rockin' the beehive. Weird, said Allison. Then she sipped her latte and noticed something else, or someone else rather, in the periphery of her vision. What're you looking at? said Donnie.

Everyone at the table caught sight of Kate, who was hanging onto the arm of a man that looked as European as a poorly made car. He had on a beret and a snooty mustache. Donnie was about to get up, but Allison pulled him down. Sit down, said Allison. You won't do yourself any good by talking to her. I'll be fine, said Donnie. I'm just going to talk to her. Say hi. Allison, said George, let him do what he wants. Allison let go of Donnie. Donnie straightened his collar, and then pushed through the people ahead of him, and "accidentally" bumped into Kate. Kate looked uneasy, and she avoided direct eye contact. She leaned into the European man she was with, treating him almost like a shield. OH, KATE, Donnie said very loudly to overcome the noise of music, I thought you were busy today. You know this man? Pierre said to Kate. Aah, well, said Kate, replying. We're sort of friends. With him? said Pierre, pointing to Donnie. Yes, said Kate. Is there a problem here? said Donnie. Pierre grabbed Donnie's hand and shook it -- but in a way that was sizing up his strength. I call myself Pierre, said Pierre. And you? Donnie, said Donnie. Donnie Underwood. Pierre's a movie director, said Kate, chiming in. And a producer. Oh yeah? said Donnie. Anything I've seen? Probably not, said Kate. He makes independent films. He has quite a cult following in France. And what does that mean? said Donnie. A cult following? You mean only a few people like his films? I suppose you can say that, said Pierre. But you should know that many of my fans are renowned critics. Many of them work for major newspapers and magazines. Some are on television. "Yeah, critics shmitics," said Donnie. "What do they know? What makes their opinion better than Biff and Annie from the other side of the tracks? I mean really it's not like you have to be a rocket scientist to understand a movie." "Je disagree," said Pierre. "Critics are more exposed to the world of media than the normal person. They have a background, which allows them to compare. How can you know what's original and what's not without knowing what's come before? Ah, oui, history. It is an important thing." Pierre tweaked his mustache. "So, if someone from a national newspaper gives me praise, I consider that much better than -- what is it you say? -- Joe Shmoe's opinion." Hey, I was in the newspaper once, said Donnie. It's not that big of a deal. Oui, said Pierre. Bon pour vous. Wait, what did you call me? said Donnie. Kate grabbed Donnie by the arm and took him aside. She gritted her teeth while speaking to him. Donnie, she said, I don't like how you're acting.

I have no idea what you're talking about, said Donnie. Oh, you don't know what you're doing, hmm? said Kate. What's the problem? I think you're being awfully childish. Am not! Please, Donnie. I can't believe you. You're staying in my place, and you're going out wining and dining, and lying to me. You said you were busy. Kate went over to Pierre. It'll be another minute, she said. She returned to Donnie, and took him to the dark corner of the cafe, where there was the fewest amount of people. She looked up at him with fluttery eyes while gently rubbing his arm. Honey, she said, I don't know why you're getting so worked up for. Are you angry because you think I lied to you? That's it, isn't it? You think I lied about being busy and I'm out here on a date. I'm not! I'm only here because I'm trying to get a job. I don't like Pierre. To be honest he's a bit snooty. Really? said Donnie. Yeah, said Kate. He's not as sweet as you. She gave Donnie a peck on the cheek. Donnie didn't smile, but was certainly pleased. He had that special floating feeling, you know, that feeling where you feel lighter than air. Alright, said Kate, I'm going to go now. But I'll see you later, hmm? Mmm, anything you want, said Donnie. Then Kate went back to Pierre; and Donnie went back the table with George and Allison, where they were only half enjoying the jazz cafe. Allison leaned toward Donnie in a concerned manner. What did she say to you? she said. Everything's fine, said Donnie. We had a misunderstanding. Now it's all cleared up. It's a-okay. I noticed she gave you a little kiss, said Allison. Sure did, said Donnie, still floating. I don't mean to burst your bubble, but those kisses are a dime a dozen. Hm, what's that? It's nothing special. I thought it was special. It's not. What're you saying, Allison? Kate's some two bit floozy? Is that it? Or is it that jealousy acting up again? She's only with you for your m -- No. I won't listen to what you have to say. You're obviously jealous. Donnie, please. I'm going to go. When you stop being jealous let me know. Donnie randomly slapped some money onto the table, to pay for his things, and then walked off in huff. George stared at the pile of money, impressed at its size much to Allison's annoyance.

Chapter 14: Cookies The doorbell rang. Repeatedly in rapid motion. Donnie got up from the carpet and went to go answer it. He found Teddy at the door, grinning. Jeez, said Teddy, you look like you slept on the floor last night. He was holding a white box. I did, said Donnie. That's pretty unusual, said Teddy. They sleep on the floor in Japan. Last I checked that was a nation of over 120,000,000 strong. So, I don't think it's that weird when so many people do it. Problems with your lady? She's not my lady. That's the problem. Um, so, will we still watch the match or what? If you want. Oh, by the way, I brought something for you. Donnie looked at the box Teddy was holding up. What is it? said Donnie. Guess, said Teddy. I don't have time for these mind games. Cookies. Or biscuits, if you will. What kind? Choco-chip. I have choco-chip cookies. Yes, but these are fresh baked. Hand made with love. You baked them for me? You got a problem with men baking? ...Come in. Donnie took Teddy into the living room, where they sat in front of a television set. Donnie took the remote and turned it to a channel which showed two men being weighed on medical-grade scales. There was Mike the Brick Hawk coming in at 169 pounds and James Ali coming in at 175. Who do you think will win? said Teddy. I really have no idea, said Donnie. I have to tell you something. What is it? said Teddy. I've never watched boxing before. Serious? Yeah, and I really don't much care for sports in general. So please don't ask me about basketball. I loathe basketball. Why do you have to bounce the ball on the floor? Why can't you carry it? I don't know. It's more interesting. Is it? Jeez, you're down on everything. Sorry. Can you pass me a cookie? I get an appetite when I see sweaty men bashing each other in the face.

Teddy opened the box of cookies, and passed one to Donnie, who scarfed it down in two bites. You think I could get in shape like that? said Donnie, watching the boxers circle around. Well, it's not impossible, said Teddy. By the way how are my cookies? Pretty good, said Donnie. Sweet...like Kate. Er, can we just watch the match? said Teddy. On the TV Mike gave James Ali a quick one-two, causing him to fall down. Whap! Donnie hit the arm of the sofa he was sitting on, but not out of excitement for the match. I just don't get it, he said. Why does she always ignore me? Maybe, said Teddy, because you spoil her. I don't spoil her, said Donnie. I'm just nice. I'm a nice guy. And that is your problem. You're too nice, Donnie. That makes her take you for granted. She doesn't hang out with your because there's no sense of urgency or possibility of loss. She knows that she can have whatever she wants and that you'll always be there. You want results? Be more of an a-hole. Or a jerk. Whatever you want. Does that actually work? Oh yeah. This one gu...rl that I was going after was really giving me a hard time, and I didn't know why she didn't like me the way I liked her. I treated her like a princess. I mean I did everything to please her. I gave her all my attention, bent over backwards for her. There wasn't anything I wouldn't do. Anyways, I got fed up, and I just started ignoring her a bit, and being, well, crass. Then boom she started becoming attracted to me. That doesn't make any sense. It's the law of economics, man. Supply and demand. If you make yourself busy, and therefore less available, you seem more appealing. It's like gold. Gold is only valuable because it's rare. See what I'm saying? But what if you take it too far? Then she'll lose confidence and go elsewhere. If gold's out of your price range, then you might settle on silver. It's a careful balancing game. I don't wanna be manipulative. That sounds really manipulative. Then don't whine if you don't get what you want. Then the boxing match on television suddenly ended. James Ali won by a perfect KO. The crowd went wild -- and because of this, Donnie was out $100 on a bet that he had made with Teddy. Chapter 15: Hello Again, Mister Xavier Nice guy activities were all but suspended, and Donnie had been (for the most part) ignoring Kate for weeks. He marked the days off on a calendar, which seemed longer than they actually were. When the phone rang in the living room, Donnie went downstairs to answer it. He intentionally picked it up with no sense of urgency. Yello, he said. A chirpy voice answered. Donnie?

Who is this? said Donnie though he actually knew. It's me! said Kate. Don't you recognize me? Kate, Kate, Kate... I know plenty of Kates. You'll have to be more specific. You're so silly. It's me. Kate Witman! Right, hey. What's going on? Short, terse sentences made Donnie appear aloof, but he was really having trouble maintaining his cool demeanor. Weeell, said Kate, I'm calling you because I have some good news. That so? said Donnie. He quivered, suddenly having high hopes, hoping that Kate would say, I'm madly in love with you! Marry me, big boy! But he waited to hear more and therefore remained calm. I got a lead role in a play, said Kate. Oh, okay, said Donnie. It's not a huuuge role, it's not Broadway, but I think this is a step in the right direction. And what do you want from me? Well, you've always been there for me at least since I met you and I want you to come over and celebrate with me. I hope you don't refuse, since it really is your place. But I'm so busy. So many things to do, Kate. Excuse, excuses, Donnie! How many times have you told me that? I hardly see you these days. Things come up. What do you want? There was a pause in Kate's voice. Kate? said Donnie. ...Pleeease! said Kate. It would mean so much to me, if you came! I'm dying to see you! I dunno. I'll make it worth your while, I swear! Mmmmm -- C'mon! Quit being such a flake! Alright, alright, you twisted my arm. I'll pay you a visit. When should I be there? Tonight. Sevenish? Sorry. That doesn't work for me. Hummm, okay, how about eight? Around eight? You can make it at eight, right? Or is that too inconvenient for your schedule? I'll be there at eight thirty. 9:00 PM. Donnie arrived late at his mansion, where Kate was making her stay. He rang the door bell, just once, and waited for an answer with an expensive bottle of champagne. It didn't take long for the doors to open. Kate stood there in the frame, daintily, in a red skin-tight dress. She had very narrowed eyes. From Donnie's perspective they looked quite seductive. You're half an hour late! said Kate. What took you so long? I, uh, needed to find a liquor store, said Donnie, almost drooling, so that I could buy some champagne.

There's like one on every corner. Please, Kate. I came here to see you. Just be glad I'm here. You know how tight my dress is? I almost passed out waiting for you. Yes. You look very...very, very good. I knew you'd like it. So, can I come in? Donnie went into the mansion with Kate. As the two walked through the main foyer, Donnie noticed a few things had changed. The place was dustier for one, and there was art hung up all around. Do you like the art? said Kate. It isn't bad, said Donnie. It's nothing I could do. I'm glad you think that, because those are my paintings. Wow. I had no idea you had talent. Hm? I mean I had no idea you were so talented. Thank you. Kate took Donnie into the living room. She turned, showing her back. Have a seat, she said. I'm gonna go to the kitchen and pour your champagne. I don't wanna spill anything on the new rug." While Donnie sat on the sofa, which was bought with his own money, he noticed a shadow moving in the corner. Who's there? said Donnie. Xavier stepped into the light. Evening, said Xavier. What are you doing here? said Donnie. I was invited for a celebration. I think maybe you just came to crash the party. No. I was definitely invited. I brought champagne. Real champagne from Champagne. In France. Have you ever been to France, Donnie? It's quite nice. Yeah. I've been to France. A couple times. Then you must know it's not as romantic as they say, especially when you step on dog shit. Right. Suddenly a crashing noise filled the room -- then a minute later Kate came into the living room without any champagne. Ah, I see you two are getting along very well, Kate said cooly. Where's the champagne? said Donnie. "What was that noise?" I dropped the bottle, said Kate. I was trying a bar trick." And the other bottle that I gave you? said Xavier. I drank it, said Kate. You drank the whole bottle? said Xavier. I only did it, because I felt bad for dropping the other bottle, said Kate. I needed it to drown my sorrows. Plus, it was a tiny bottle. "Heh, that makes sense," said Donnie. "Xavier trying to give you tiny things." Xavier grumbled. "I'm really sorry," said Kate.

It's okay, said Xavier. How about some coffee or tea? said Kate. That would be nice, said Donnie. So, Kate left and returned some minutes later with coffee and tea. She poured the tea for Donnie and coffee for Xavier. Afterward she sat down on the sofa, but in such a way that on either side of her was a man. So, said Xavier, you haven't told us what this play is all about. I don't think that it's very interesting, said Kate. Let us be the judge of that, said Donnie. Erm, the play's about mermaids, said Kate. It's sort of a tribute to Han Christian Anderson. Pretty trippy stuff. In one scene I meet a pink octopus. Octopus, you say? said Xavier. Yes, said Kate. She's sort of my guiding light, so to to speak. But how's the play story-wise? said Donnie. I don't want to spoil it for any of you, said Kate. You'll find out when you both come and see it. Do we need tickets? said Xavier. Or do we just give our names at the door? Yes, you need tickets, said Kate. Buuut I don't have any right now. I forgot to get them after a butt-long rehearsal. When you do get them, said Donnie, you can give them both to me. I'll keep one and give the other to Xavier. It's really convenient, since we know each other so well, and I bet you're real busy. That's a great idea, said Kate. Yeah. I think I'll do that. I don't think you should, said Xavier. Don't be silly, said Kate. Donnie's a very responsible guy. Probably the most responsible person I know. It's true, said Donnie. I am quite reliable. Kate patted Xavier on the knee. Yes, don't worry, she said. It'll be fine... Oh! I forgot! We forgot to have our celebratory drink! Come, let's raise our glasse -- errr, cups! Then Kate picked up her cup and held it high. Then Donnie and Xavier did the same, and then all three of them banged each of their hot drinks together in celebration. To Kate! said Donnie. The celebratory night ended at two in the morning. Kate said goodbye to Donnie, and to Xavier, and saw them both outside. Now the two men stood together, alone, in the chilly night air. As Donnie was about to walk away he felt a tap on his shoulder. Hold on a minute, said Xavier. I need to talk to you. Donnie turned around. What is it? Xavier looked back, making sure the doors to the mansion were fully closed, and Kate was assuredly away. It is just me, said Xavier, or do you have a little crush on Kate? I don't think we should discuss that, said Donnie. I'd like to know, said Xavier. I saw you put your hand on her knee. Now is that just friendliness or is it more? I have to go, said Donnie.

Xavier grabbed Donnie by the shoulders and then spun him into the column beside. Look here, said Xavier. I want you to know something. Kate is out of your league. She's too good for you and you don't deserve her. So why don't you back off?" Get your hands off me, said Donnie. He pushed away. Xavier poked Donnie in the chest. I'm warning you. Stay away from Kate. She's mine." Ooooh, said Donnie, so she's property now? Are you some sort of slave master? Oh, massa-massa, please don't whip me! I'm telling you right now, if you don't back off I will cut you in two. I'm so scared. I should slap some sense into you. Donnie pointed his finger. You're not going to slap anyone, said Donnie, and you're not going to stop me from pursuing Kate either. Who she chooses is not up to you don't matter what you say it's up to her. And I know she'll choose the right person. Just for your information the right person isn't you. We'll see, said Xavier. We'll see. Chapter 16: Let's Play Today Donnie decided to pay a visit to his homeless shelter. He volunteered in the kitchen area, where, behind the counter, he served up loads of soup and food that most people would not eat for their own enjoyment. Pearl stood by his side to help. Don't you think youre going a little too fast? she said. Donnie kept splashing soup all over the counter as he served the homeless and those just plain down on their luck. Can't keep hungry people waiting, said Donnie. They don't got anywhere to go, said Pearl. Says you. Alright what's the matter? What do you mean 'what's the matter?' Everything's fine. Keep calm. Carry on. But you're acting like a haughty teenager. AM NOT!" Donald Underwood! Raise your voice at me again and I'll quit. I swear it. I apologize, Pearl. Now, tell me what's going on? In front of all these people? They don't care. Is that so? People don't care about anything when they're hungry. Dat's true, said Gus, who was waiting in line. Like my dead mama say, a hungry man is a zebra. That doesn't make any sense, said Pearl. You ever see a Zebra poke up his head and listen in on a convo? said Gus. 'Ave you?

Uh, what? said Donnie. I din't think so, said Gus. Donnie quickly served Gus his soup to see him go. Pearl took a clean towel and wiped the wet counter. "Hey, Pearl," said Donnie. He had a glazed look over his eyes. "Ye'," said Pearl. "You ever have those days," he said, "where you feel like randomly punching someone in the face?" "I know how to box," said Pearl. "So don't even think it. I got a mean left hook." She punched the air. "What?" said Donnie. "I would never hit you. Or any woman for that matter." "I know," said Pearl. "'Cause I got a mean left hook." "I was thinking more about someone like Xavier." Xavier, huh? He got you worked up? That's why you're all upset? Let me guess. Pearl, please." Fighting over a woman. I know it. Whenever a man has a problem with another man it's over a woman. Am I correct? Correct me if i'm wrong. Why does he have to be such a, such a, such a... A dick? A douchebag? A jerk off? A son of a bitch? Yeah! Would you like my womanly advice?" "Okay." "Forget about her. Forget about this woman you're chasing. You can do much better, I assure you. Go out and meet someone else. I can't do that. Donnie. I know you. You only want her because you can't have her. I know it. You have that competitive mindset. You gotta be the best. And that's okay, because it's made you successful, but don't let it seep into your personal life. That's easy to say when you don't know Kate. She's... ...Like nobody you've even known? Amazing? Incredible? Ravishing? More beautiful than a sunset? Has the voice of an angel?" Donnie let out of a breath. I need some fresh air. He put down his ladle and went outside. He leaned his back against the wall like a drooping flower. As he stood around idle a homeless man approached him. Top of the morning to you, said Ricky. How are you doing? Me? I'm fine. You can get food and shelter inside, said Donnie. I'm not homeless, said Ricky. Yiiiii'm jus' temporarily poorly. How long have you been temporarily poor, hm? Let's see. One. Two. Three... Four years come tomorrow. Dang. Why don't you go in and get some help? I don't need help! I never needed help! So, what do you want from me? You have any change? Change? Change!

Donnie reached into his front pocket and took out his wallet. He opened it wide to look inside. There was nothing, except two credit cards, and a fly which flew out. Sorry, said Donnie. I don't have any change do you accept credit cards? Agh, said Ricky. I don't even got no bank account. Why don't you just go in and get some help? No, it's too embarrassing. And asking me for change is not? I won't be seein' you much. Maybe once, twice if you're unlucky. Okay. Let me think. Maybe I have something I can give you." Donnie looked at his wrist, at his gold watch, then he took it off and gave it to Ricky. Is this a real Rolega watch? said Ricky. Sure is, said Donnie. Take it to the pawn shop. It'll fetch you a good price. Agh, but plenty of people got these. I don't think so. I seen plenty of people with 'em. Those are fake. Mine's real. I should know, I have a collection of them... I hope it's not an addiction." Ricky licked the bracelet of the watch. Not too sure 'bout this one, said Ricky. It don't have the right taste. Or maybe that's because it's been on your wrist too long. I think you're supposed to bite the gold, said Donnie, to test for its hardness. You're not supposed to taste it. Anyways, I think it's a fake, mister. It's not fake. A man like you got a ten-jillion dollar watch on his wrist? Not likely. Bet you got a knock off at one of dem flea markets. That what they call them? Maybe it's some other insect. So are you going to keep it or what? For a while till I find a buyer. Okay, but go to a pawnshop. Don't just sell it to some idiot off the street. Hang on a minute. Ricky tapped a passerbyer on the shoulder. Scuse me, said Ricky, would you like to buy a Rolega watch? Ha, said the passerbyer, you have one? Ricky showed the passerbyer his newly acquired watch. It looks pretty good, said the passerbyer. Is it hot? Naw, it ain't hot! said Ricky. Do I look like an ordinary thief? Hm, okay then, said the passerbyer. I guess it's fake. How about I give you twenty bucks for it? It's a good deal. I probably could get one up the street for fifteen. Don't sell your watch for twenty bucks, said Donnie. It's mine now, said Ricky. Don't be interfering in mah business deals. Twenty bucks ain't much, but it's enough to get a hot meal at McRonald's. Breakfast particularly is my fave. Donnie shook his head as Ricky sold his genuine, luxurious, Rolega watch for a mere fifteen dollars. The passerbyer went thanks! and then went off.

Ricky thumbed the dollar bills in his hand. "Woo, look at all this cash. I feel just like a stripper." "I'm sure you do," said Donnie. "But hey, I owe you one," aid Ricky. "It's okay," said Donnie. "Choose one!" said Ricky. He took out a small box. "You have two choices of gift, what's in this box or wisdom." "Are you serious?" "Dead serious." "Oh. Well, the box is tempting, but I think I'll go with wisdom. After all knowledge is power." "A'ight, but first, what's on your mind?" "I dunno. Uuh, the usual." "Women?" "Maybe." "Otay. Here's mah piece of wisdom. About relationships." "Let's hear it." "99.4535% of relationships are doomed from the start, because people lie about themselves, who they are, to get what they want. But if you want something long term, something that lasts more than a couple weeks or months, be honest. Sure, you might get shot down more frequently, but you'll find someone who is actually compatible with you." "So, I should never lie then?" "Don't be a dummy! I never said be honest all the time. You gotta be reasonable. You can't just be going around talking about the time you fucked a donkey. A good relationship is a fine balance between truth and dishonesty." Donnie sighed. "Can I have what's in the box instead?" "No," said Ricky. "You already made up your mind." Chapter 17: Day Continues The day was still young. Despite Donnie's early start he was as fresh as a daisy. He walked over to his best friend Teddy's house, in a wrinkle free sports coat, and dropped in to say hello. Hey, Donnie, said Teddy. What's up? I have a hot date tonight, said Donnie. Oh yeah? said Teddy. And you've come here for what purpose? I need to borrow some gel to straighten my hair. Looks fine the way it is. Also, couldn't you just go to the store? I'm in a bit of a rush. Alright. Look in the upstairs bathroom. There should be something in the medicine cabinet. Thanks, Teddy. I can always count on you. Don't remind me. Donnie went inside Teddy's house and went to the upstairs bathroom, where he found the gel in the medicine cabinet like described. He squeezed it into his palm and ran

it through his tight hair with a plastic comb. After finishing he returned downstairs to Teddy. How do I look? said Donnie, spinning around. Very good, said Teddy. I wanted to dress up, but not too much. A tux can be imposing sometimes. Plus I couldn't find any tux shops. Yeah. A sports coat is fine. I'm sure Kate will like it. But I feel like something is missing. What's missing? Me. What's that? Me. Why don't you bring me along? I have some time to burn. And you have two tickets, don't you? Oh yeah. I ripped it up on the way here. I thought I might accidentally encounter Xavier. Never mind. Hey, maybe next time. Right. "Wait." Donnie tapped his chin. I was supposed to do something. But what was it? "I don't now." Teddy tapped his foot. Did you take a bath? Of course I took a bath, said Donnie. I'm as fresh as a daisy. He snapped his fingers. Right! I forgot flowers! Oh, Jesus. Are the stores still open? Do you know a flower shop? No, said Teddy. You've been here how long and you don't know? I hardly go to flower shops. Only for funerals it seems. And there haven't been any deaths in a while unfortunately. Alright, you got a phone book then? No. No phone book? I never received one. The mailman has a grudge against me, after I got his cat out of the tree by spraying it with a hose. That sounds made up. Anyway, I have to go. Maybe I'll drive around and look for a flower shop. Donnie, without saying goodbye, left Teddy's place and went outside to his car. There he sped down the street and then searched the city for a flower shop. As luck would have it, after some fifteen minutes he had found one. It was a small place called Flower Power. He pulled on the front door's handle -- only to discover it was locked. He saw someone inside and so knocked on the glass. Hellooo! said Donnie. May I come in? The shopkeeper, who was nearby sweeping, waved his hand in a dismissive manner. Please, said Donnie. I need to get flowers. I'll be real quick. Shop's closed, said the shopkeeper named Bob. Come back another time. I only need to buy one thing, said Donnie. I know exactly what I want. Show me your money, said Bob.

Huh? Show me what yuh got or I won't be letting you in. Are you serious? Very serious. Alright, fine. Donnie took out his wallet. Show me the money! said Bob. SHOW ME THE MONEY! Not having much of a choice Donnie opened his wallet, showing a superfluous amount of cash. You didn't jack that did you? said Bob. No, said Donnie. What do I look like? How am I supposed to know? said Bob. Can I get flowers or not? said Donnie. Okay what do you want? Can I come in and have a look? Answer the question. I'll have some roses please. A dozen. Posies? Roses! A dozen, I assume. Okay. That'll be one hundred bananas. Are you kidding me? I can get 'em for a quarter that price at a gas station. Nope. Now do you want them or not? I know you're in a rush. Fine. I'll take 'em. First, put the cash through the mail slot and don't argue! Donnie took out a hundred dollar bill and put it through the door's mail slot. Bob picked it up from inside the shop, and, after folding it, put it in his pocket. Then he went off, into the dark, and returned with a dozen fresh flowers red roses like requested. He opened the door a crack, and, much to Donnie's annoyance, passed them out one by one. Donnie reassembled them into a bouquet. But not without getting a finger pricked. Donnie put the dozen roses into his car and quickly went off. When the theater came into his view, in the windshield, he stopped in front with a screech. Carrying his bouquet of roses he burst through the front doors, where there were two more doors, and a door man. He tried to get through with his ticket. I'm sorry, said the doorman named Robert. The play has already begun. Letting you in now would disrupt it. But, said Donnie, I'm only He glanced at his wrist as if to look at a watch, but then he remembered that he gave that away. I couldn't be that late. Please, said Robert. Don't make my job harder than it has to be. You can see the play's next showing. But my friend invited me, and she'll be really disappointed if I'm not there. That isn't my problem. By the way who is your friend? Kate Witman. Another one, huh? What?

You can come in, but do so quietly. Robert opened one of two doors and stepped aside, letting Donnie into the seating area. Donnie found that the inside, unlike what he had imagined, was not packed at all. There were many, many seats available in this what appeared to be budget theater. So he took a spot up front to see as much as possible. At this point Kate was yet to appear on stage. Now on stage were several half-naked dancers twirling around, making throaty sounds, and climbing on top of each other. Though that wasn't the weirdest thing. The weirdest thing was the giant penis going around slapping everyone in face. What the hell is this? Donnie accidentally said aloud. The female next to him turned up her nose. It's theater, you boor, said Rebecca, a brunette twenty-something, with thick frame glasses. It's symbolic. I suppose that's something that would go over the head of someone who thinks explosions are the height of entertainment. Care to break it down for me? said Donnie. If I must, said Rebecca. She cleared her throat. The dancers represent confusion, and the giant mushroom represent Hilda's sexual desires. She is having a dream. That's a mushroom? It is a Freudian mushroom. Oooh, okay. Not enjoying it are you? It's kind of amusing. It is not supposed to be amusing. It is supposed to make you think. About what? Hnugh, never mind. Please be quiet. As you wish. So, Donnie stayed quiet, and watched mindlessly, while slumping in his seat. He only perked up when what he wanted to see appeared. Kate came onto the stage in a mermaid's costume, and threw herself against a foam rock, like she were a damsel in distress. She begged the gods to spare her life, and she sang a siren's song. It was over the top purple prose yet oddly endearing. When the play ended, some two hours later, Donnie was ready to get up, and see the star. He stood up and then snuck to the back area, where there was a hallway. He went down the hallway and looked side to side, searching for Kate's dressing room. At the end he found it. The door had peeling paint and a sign in paper that read, Kate Audrey Witman. He impulsively turned the knob of the door and went inside with his bouquet of flowers. Kate jumped off the lap of a man. The man stood from his chair, buttoned up the top buttons on his shirt, and walked out without saying a word, or acknowledging Donnie's presence. Donnie glared. Who was that? he said. Just a friend, said Kate, still looking silly in her mermaid's costume. You say he's just a friend, said Donnie, but if --

Are those flowers for me? They're congratulatory flowers, if you will. Oh, could you put them with the others? Hmm? Donnie turned his head to see, by the side of the room, a large mound of flowers many times better than his plain half-wilted roses. He went to the mound of flowers and dropped off his roses. Gee, you have a lot of fans, don't you? said Donnie. Actually no, said Kate. All of those are from one person. Some old man came in and dropped them off. He said I reminded him of his dead daughter. Then he tried getting my phone number. How creepy. Did you give it to him?" "Of course not." "Oh. Well. That's good. I guess." Donnie thought what to say next. "So," he said, "what're you going to do with all these flowers?" Compost 'em," said Kate. "Or maybe I could use them to make potpourri. But who has the time these days? Tell me about it." Anyway. So, what did you think of my play? Pretty crazy out there, huh? I enjoyed myself. Thanks, I was hoping you'd say that -- oh, do you mind? I need to change. I'll turn around. It's alright. We're all adults here. Are you sure? Then Kate angled her body away, and took off her mermaid costume. As she put on a pair of slacks, and a shirt, Donnie nearly choked on his spit. He had to avert his gaze to keep from drooling. All done, said Kate, after putting on a pair of ballet flats. Well now, said Donnie, shall I take you home?" It's alright I don't wanna inconvenience you. No. It's no trouble at all. Actually, I've arranged a ride. Did you? Is that okay? Of course. Why not? I'll save some money on gas. It's so expensive these days. Almost $1.15 a gallon. There's always public transportation. It's not so bad, if you like the smell of vomit. Which smells exactly like Parmesan cheese. Okay. So, I guess I should be going then? Why don't you walk me outside? Donnie agreed with a nod, then Kate picked up her purse and the two went outside. Outside was a tad windy. The weather blew around empty cups, bags, and dust. Kate's hair whipped around too. An amount of it went right into Donnie's face -- but he didn't mind, since it smelt like fruit. What fruit, he wasn't sure. Any minute now, said Kate, shivering, and holding herself with her arms.

Would you like my jacket? Donnie offered. He took off his jacket and was about to put it over Kate, but she shrugged it off. That's alright, said Kate. I'll be getting in a car soon. Are you sure? said Donnie. Very sure, said Kate. Donnie put his hands into his pockets. Then right after a car arrived by the curbside. From it a handsome man stepped out and went over to Kate. The two hugged each other, and exchanged some kisses on the cheek. Donnie twisted his face, displeased with this display of affection. Are you going to introduce me? said Donnie. No response was given, other than Kate and her handsome man giggling. Then they went into their car and drove off. What a crappy car, Donnie grumbled. Chapter 18: Je T'aime The light in Donnie's room was dim, but he continued to write. He sat at his desk, in his middle-class home, and busied himself, thinking hard what to say. He hadn't put more than a paragraph down on paper since an hour ago. He had a good case of writer's block. He leaned his head on his hand and rubbed against his temple. Whilst doing this a noise suddenly came through the window. It sounded like a terrible squabble. Donnie, not able to defeat his block, got up from his seat, and went to see it. Just below, on the street, were a group of teenagers. Amongst them was Donnie's cousin named Jay. Jay, who was being pushed around and punched. Donnie left his room, put on a jacket and pants, and went outside. He stepped in front of Jay and got between the hoodlums. Hey, he said, what's going on here? A teen, who had a red bandana on his head, stepped forward. His name was Ving and he looked like the leader of the group. Who the fuck are you? are you said Ving. This person you're picking on, said Donnie, is my cousin. And I don't like the way you're treating him. Jay whispered to Donnie. I don't need your help, man. I don't give a fuck who you are, said Ving. Get out the way. Ving tried to get to Jay, but Donnie stood in the way. Donnie, once being the leader of a large company, had a type of confident posture that was almost intimidating. You wanna get murdered? said Ving, unsure of what he was up against. Please, said Donnie. Let's talk this over like gentlemen. Ving pulled his arm back, readying to throw a punch but then relaxed. Nobody ever suggested that he could be a gentleman, or a civilized person, or human being in general. You think I'm a gentleman, huh? said Ving. I don't know, let's have a chat and see, said Donnie. A'ight, said Ving. Now, said Donnie, what is it you want from Jay?

I want my money. How much money are we talking about? A hundret bucks. That's all? Whatchu mean that's all? That's a lot of money. I could buy a pair of kicks for that price. So, you're willing to beat the daylights out of someone for $100? It's not just about the money; it's about the principle. Donnie laughed in his head, These people have principles? Ha! Then he said aloud, Okay. I'll give you your $100, if you leave my cousin alone. Ving looked Donnie up and down, examining his clothing. $500, said Ving. What? said Donnie. You said $100. Plus interest, said Ving. And anyhow I think you can afford it. Jay pushed his way in front of Donnie. I dunno who you think you are, he said to Ving, but we ain't giving you shit. $500? I rather suck on a cock. Donnie put out his arm to stop Ving from clobbering Jay. Okay, said Donnie, negotiating, I'll give you $200. $200! said Ving. That's way less than five hundey! Are you tryin' tah diss me? It's $200, and I won't call the cops, said Donnie. Call the cops if you want, said Ving. They won't do anything. They don't even care. Fine, said Donnie. Two fifty. That's my final offer. Take it or leave it. Ving looked to his boys to tacitly ask them what to do. Alright, said Ving. I accept your offer. Now, where my money at? Luckily, Donnie earlier had put on his pants that contained his wallet. So he took out all his money, exactly $250 minus a few coins, and gave it to Ving. Ving quickly grabbed it, acting like a nervous animal taking food, and ran away with his little gang. Jay turned to Donnie when they were out of sight. Y'know, he said. You didn't need to do that. I have my own money. It's just that I'm waiting to get my first paycheque. You have a job? said Donnie. That's right, Jay said proudly. I'm goin' straight edge. Gonna pay off all my debt to my dealers, gonna go to college, gonna get a nice wife -- gonna do it right! I'm very proud. You inspired me. I looked at you and thought, if he can do it so can I. Well, work hard and work smart, and you'll succeed. I promise to owe you back. I told you it's fine. Y'know what? The job I work at has some perks. Why don't you come over and I'll give you a lap dance? I'd rather not see you naked. I mean...from one of the strippers! You work at a strip club, huh? It's temporary.

Alright, Jay, I have to go. I've things to do later today. What about the lap dance? I don't like strip clubs. You sure about that? Very sure. Donnie tried to forget about his cousin Jay while traveling in his car, while listening to a book on tape, which was on the topic of motivation. The tape was made by the very famous Andy Byrd. Andy Byrd had a loud voice and shouted things like: You can do it! Live the life you want! Don't be a prisoner of your mind! Face your fears! and All of you are winners! You have already won the most important race of your life -- the sperm race! You are all sperm race winners! When the tape finished on that last sentence, Donnie had arrived at the UTRC (Underwood Temporary Residence Shelter). He parked by the side and stepped out. He went into the shelter, but only to run a short errand. Like always it was busy, except there was someone new today. Donnie walked to the counter for a better look. Was that Kate? he thought. It was Kate in fact and she was volunteering, serving soup, and bread rolls to the many homeless. Donnie snuck behind the serving counter, and poked her in the shoulder. Kate, he said, what're you doing here? Volunteering, said Kate, what does it look like? But why? said Donnie. For the good of the community -- and it can't hurt my image, can it? Your image, huh? I'm an actress. Up and coming, but nevertheless an actress. I see. So, are you just gonna stand around or what? Donnie helped Kate serve food. Well, I haven't seen you in a while, said Donnie. What've you been up to? Besides this? said Kate. Nothing much. Nothing? Nothing at all? Not one thing? If you must know, I'm taking a break from acting career. Changing things up, you know. But you love acting. I'm still an actress, but sometimes you need a change of pace in life...especially when some a-hole thinks you should be flipping burgers rather than expressing yourself creatively. Got some bad reviews for your play, huh? Kate gritted her teeth. Why? What makes you think that? I never said that. Donnie looked afraid. Uh, uh, uh, I didn't think that. I was just, uh, uh, trying to be funny, you know. 'Cause obviously your play got good reviews. I know it. I was just, uh, uh, being contrary, you see. Aah, just teasing you that's all! It's okay. I know what they said. I already read the newspaper. I'm sorry.

But that's why I haven't seen you in a while, Donnie. It's not that I'm ignoring you. I've just been a bit down and I got a new job. It's taking up my time. Yeah? What do you do? I can't tell you. How about a clue? "No." A little clue? "No." A hint? That's the same thing." Puh-puh-pleeease! With sugar on top! Alright. Fine. Go on. What's the clue? Okay. Two clues. 1) My job involves acting, but it isn't acting. 2) The place I work at serves food, but it isn't a restaurant. Donnie thought about the clues, so much so that he stopped serving out food while thinking. Kate had to pick up the slack. I don't know, said Donnie, muttering. I don't know what you do. He repeated what he was told. Involves acting... Serves food and is not a restaurant? Don't think about it too hard, said Kate. You might have an aneurism. How about another clue? said Donnie. I gave you two clues. That's enough. Well, ah..." "Yes?" "You know what? Never mind... By the way, what're you doing this weekend? Busy. Doing what? My new job, remember? No time off on the weekend? Well, what about the other days you're free? I have auditions to go to. I thought you were done with acting. I said I was taking a break from acting, not auditions. Alright, what about next week? Do you have a day off next week, Kate? Thursday, I think. I can make that work. Thursday it is. Wait, no. I have to take my parents out for dinner. Can you put that off? Are you kidding me, Donnie? You know hard it is to get my parents together for dinner? They hate each other. Alright! The next week after that? As Kate thought she kept spilling stew over the sides of bowls. Donnie cleaned it up with a rag, but the homeless people were outraged. Maybe because it made them feel like Oliver. Actually, said Kate, I should be free. Great, said Donnie. So, where will you be taking me?

It'll be a surprise. Chapter 19: Fancy New Penis The dealership was not hard to find, as its location was marked by a tube man. (A tube man is a giant, colorful, man-creature, made of plastic, that moves around and waves when air is blown through its middle.) Donnie went onto the lot and was immediately greeted by a salesman. The salesman, named Lincoln, shook his hand. "Good eeevening," said Lincoln. "How yah doin'?" "Just fine," said Donnie. "What're yah lookin' for?" said Lincoln. "I dunno," said Donnie. "Something nice. Something that catches the eye." "Something to impress the ladies?" "Not 'the ladies' -- a lady." "A lady! Woowee, buying a car for jus' one female. She must be a real looker." "That doesn't begin to describe it." "Now, I have to tell you something before we start off here." "Yah." "I'm a very honest salesman." "Sure." "And I don't want to be misleading you, or making you spend more than you can afford. I have a reputation to maintain, so tell you what? I am going to find you the perfect car, exactly for your needs. Guaranteed. Don't worry. We won't be playing any mind games. I want you coming away happy. Okay?" "Okay then." Lincoln took Donnie around the lot. They went past a couple cars. "Now," said Lincoln, "you are a very handsome man. Very handsome indeed. So, I don't think at all that you need a car too fancy to impress your lady. You gotta get something economical, reliable, and maybe a bit rugged. It'll show you smart you are. And I bet you are that. What do you say about a jeep?" Donnie looked at a jeep that looked like it was from the World War 2 era. "This looks pretty beat up," said Donnie. "Who drove it? Patton?" "It's a good vehicle," said Lincoln. "It's not got much mileage on her and she sure as hell can drive over a hill. Your lady is going to dig it. It can definitely help you compensate." "I want something better," said Donnie. "Okay," said Lincoln, still enthusiastic. He took Donnie over to the other side of the lot and showed him some boring family cars, maybe just to cover his bases. "Here we go," said Lincoln, patting the hood of a selected car. "This baby is perfect for when you go out on dates. It says, 'I'm responsible, I have money, but I'm spend thrift too.' It's a real keeper." "I don't want a sedan," said Donnie. "When I go on a date I want to really, you know, pop." "My friend," said Lincoln, "dates aren't just for being flashy and pretentious, and getting wasted. They're much more than that. I know that women enjoy themselves and all on dates, and they have fun, but for you it's a different story. First impressions are

crucially important. A date for a man is like a job interview. You gotta make yourself look right straight outta the gate. What car you get can make or ruin you. Like if you got a Hummer, this should be obvious, it would not make a good impression on an environmentalist. You get me?" "Kate is a high class woman," said Donnie. "Let's just say that." "Alright," said Lincoln. Lincoln showed Donnie the cars a bit more expensive. Some which had tailfins on the back. Many were hot red and turquoise. "What about these?" said Lincoln. "Classic cars. They're big and strong, and I think you definitely would say classy." "Hmm," said Donnie. "You'll bag her for sure. Then once you get her, that tenner you're gunning for, you can get really popular, and then become the arrogant jerk that you had buried deep inside of you." "Come again?" "Oh, sorry. I went off on a tangent there. I was thinking about my sister. Poor little sister. She's such a naive little girl, and much better looking than she thinks." "What's your point?" "Okay. So she dated this really nice guy, and everything was fine, but then she lost some weight, and started getting loads of attention, and basically got popular. Then by the end of it her boyfriend had turned into a penis. He cheated on her." "Why would he do that? Did he not like the attention she was getting?" "No, he was fine with that. He just went mad with power. Him being with a pretty girl made him more popular too. It sucks, but alas I've seen it happen all too much. You give a guy a break, 'cause you think he's nice, you make him feel confident, and attractive, and it goes to his head, and he's off shticking it in another lady. MEN! So evil!" "It's the fault of the man is it?" "I sure think so. Men are real scummy like that." "And who made that nice guy change? Hm? Women! When he's single, and not available he's getting paid no mind. And then when he's in a relationship the ladies start coming around. They start become attracted to him at the absolute worst time ever. Why? I don't know. I don't know why women only want things when they're not available. Maybe it's something to do with the female's instincts about supply and demand. Whatever the case it's an awful thing to do, and if you ask me men are the better people. I mean who doesn't get tempted at a buffet? But the question is who is the one that made that buffet?" "Okay. I get that point. But I still don't agree that men are the better people. Women are delightful. I grew up with all sisters. I should know." "They treated you nice enough, I bet, but what about each other?" "Yeah, ah-ha, come to think of it there was a lot of hair pulling." "See." "Alright, how about this? They each have their pros and cons, hmm?" "I can agree to that. Although I guess I kinda think that they're both kinda weird, if you think about it. Like I don't get this. A woman will leave her man when he has

nothing, which sort of makes sense, but then a man will leave his woman when he has everything. What's up with that? What a messed up dichotomy." "Hey, you never heard the saying opposites attract?" "Were they talking about genders, sex, or personalities?" Lincoln started walking, making Donnie follow along. "Let's walk and talk about this," said Lincoln. "Why dawdle?" "I don't have anything more to say," said Donnie. "I think I've talked too much for today, which is pretty unusual." "You're a talker, are you?" said Lincoln. "Yeah, ah-ha, me too. When I was a kid people used to make fun of me for being shy. So I gave them an earful. A little known fact around here, I originally became a salesman to overcome my shyness. "That so?" said Donnie. "If you're afraid of something," said Lincoln, "you do best to face it head on. What's the worst that could happen?" "Death or bankruptcy." "Yeah, ah-ha, well, not likely if you want to be a salesman. Or anything else normal for that matter. Am I right?" "I suppose." Lincoln pause for a moment, and scoped a girl. "Whoa, looky there," said Lincoln. "Should you really be staring at women while working?" said Donnie. He looked too. "But I, er, must say she is something else. Not quite like my Kate though." "Your Kate, huh?" said Lincoln. "She's better looking than that?" "Oh yeah," said Donnie. "She's the prettiest person I ever met. Not like that woman over there. If you ask me she's not really that great. Look at all that chest out. She's compensating for her face." "Yeah, ah-ha, she's definitely a butter-face," said Lincoln, still staring at the the girl passing by. "Butter-face?" "Everything's good looking -- but her face." "I see." "Yeah, ah-ha, the ones with the nasty faces tend to show off their boobs." "Wwhat if the girl's flat chested or she has small boobs?" "Then it's all about the legs." "What if she doesn't have nice looking legs?" "Every girl has a good set of legs, as long as they're shaven, and she doesn't look like Porky Pig." "I do not want to meet a woman who looks like Porky Pig." "Yeah, ah-ha, but in general I find the more skin a lady's showing the more she's trying to compensate for something that's amiss. (Sort of like how a man with a small wiener buys an expensive car.) I know this for a fact because my youngest sister, Ariel, looks like a gremlin from the neck up. And what can I say? She's got a poor self-image and dresses herself to match. Everything's popping out. It's like a free peep show." "Can't you tell her not to dress that way?" "What? No way! I'll get an earful about how I'm being an oppressive man. It's either that or she'll say something like she's only trying to empower herself."

"And she's not, huh?" "Nah. That's just some bulldoggy excuse women use when they act/look like mad hos. It's like when a guy gets drunk, falls down the stairs, and breaks his arm, he brags about how much he can drink, and what a hilarious time he had. But we all know he felt like an utter twat." "Uh, oh, she's caught us staring." "Let's keep going." Lincoln and Donnie got to the back of the lot, where all the fancy cars were kept. The ones in silver, gold, and black, the ones that shouted "opulence," and "I have nothing better to do with my money." Donnie whistled while leaning on a window, and looking into a car that had a leather interior. "You like that, huh?" said Lincoln. "It has dual climate control." "What's that?" said Donnie. "The left and right side can be set at different temperatures." "Sounds a bit too sweet to me." "I thought you wanted something fancy for the lady." "I'm having second thoughts. I mean I don't think she's a shallow person. She wouldn't care either way." "Tell me the truth. You can afford it can't you?" "I see what you're doing there. Trying to make me feel cheap, so I'll buy your best car." "No. I showed you the cheaper cars earlier. You insisted on the more expensive models." "That's true." "Yup." "But that doesn't matter now. I don't want a new car." "You sure?" "Yeah. Sorry." "Okay. That's fine. It doesn't matter if you buy a car. I want you to be happy and not make a decision you might regret. But let me show you out my dealership, hm?" Chapter 20: Over the Top A brand new car came around the mansion. Donnie came out the back and went to the front door. In the window he noticed a womanly figure. He rang on the doorbell. A minute later the door swung open. Kate had on shoe on, and was putting on earrings. "Donnie," she said, "you're here early." "Right on time, actually," said Donnie, who had on a new watch. "Okay," said Kate, "can you gimme a couple more minutes?" "You look ready as is." "I haven't put on any rouge and I think my eyeliner's smudged." "But you look perfect." "Maybe to you, but to a discerning eye --"

Kate put on her other shoe and finished putting on her earrings. Then she proceeded to touch up her face up with a mirror and light colored foundation. Donnie tapped his foot a bit, though not in an angry manner. "We have reservations at a restaurant," said Donnie. "We better hurry up. Can you do that in the car?" "It's okay if we don't get our table," said Kate. "It's no big loss." "I would really prefer it if we got there in time." "What is this? Some fancy restaurant?" "You could say that." "It's not Italian, is it?" "French. Do you like French food?" "Love France. Love French people. The food -- not so much. You know, escargot is just a fancy name for snails." "I'm aware of that." "Maybe we can go somewhere else? How about Chinese?" "China's a bit too far." "What?" "Come on, let's go." "But --" Donnie nudged Kate out the door, and then led her into the awaiting car. As soon as they got inside the driver began driving. "Keep a good pace," said Donnie to the driver. "I don't want to be late." "Where's this restaurant again?" said Kate. "You'll see," said Donnie with a grin. "You'll see." A good amount of time passed. Kate was annoyed, but more than that confused when the car she and Donnie were in stopped at the airport. Donnie let Kate out of the car, like a gentleman, and took her by the hand. "What's going on?" said Kate. "I'm taking you to a French restaurant," said Donnie. "A real one." "I've been to a real French restaurant before," said Kate. "This is a little different," said Donnie. Then Donnie took Kate over to the jet that sat on the tarmac. She looked at it curiously, and surprised. She'd never seen anything like it before. It was almost an isosceles triangle and the nose was hooked so that it turned down at a sharp angle. "What kinda plane is this?" said Kate. "It's a Concorde Jet," said Donnie. "The fastest in the world -- outside of military aircraft. I had to pull a few strings to get it." "What type of strings?" said Kate. "Red ones," said Donnie. "I don't get it," said Kate. "I'll explain on the plane," said Donnie. Three something hours later... The Concorde landed on tarmac for a second time. (There was one minor refueling.) Kate leaned and looked out the window as Donnie caressed her shoulder.

"Are we in France?" she said, rubbing her eyes. "Yup," said Donnie. "Paris?" said Kate. "Only the most romantic city in the world." "How did we get here so fast?" "Science, m'dear. Now shall we go out and look around?" "What exactly have you got planned?" When Donnie and Kate came off the jet there was a white horse and carriage awaiting them. The driver stepped down and greeted Kate with a European kiss on both her cheeks. Donnie bit the lower end of his own lip. "Bonjour," said Claude. "I will be your driver for this evening. Maintenant (now), are you two ready to go out and see Paris in the most romantic of fashions?" He helped Kate into the carriage while Donnie followed from behind, then the four made haste to leave the airport, which was dimming by the late hour. They traveled around Paris under the glowing orange sky. Kate rested against Donnie's shoulder and held his arm on this trip. The driver Claude took them to all the usual tourist destinations: the Louvre museum, the Notre Dame Cathedral, and the Arc de Triomphe. Everywhere in this beautiful city, except the Catacombes de Paris. Soon the night arrived and the carriage ride had ended. Donnie and Kate stepped gingerly onto the ground, littered with dog poop, and started walking away. "Hmm," said Kate, "I just remembered. You forgot to tip the driver." "Did I?" said Donnie. "Well, in Europe tips aren't expected." "Are you sure?" said Kate. "Very sure," said Donnie. And he put his jacket around Kate to keep her warm. The two walked hand in hand and came upon the Eiffel Tower, which was much larger than imagined, and unusually quiet. The 20,000 light bulbs that lit it up cast down a delicate glow. "It's so beautiful," said Kate. "Not as beautiful as you," said Donnie. (Smooth.) "Awww," said Kate. She then turned to Donnie and whispered something into his ear. He giggled. "You have such a dirty sense of humour." Now, Donnie and Kate went into the glass elevator that allowed everything to be seen below, and they visited the restaurant called "Le Jules Verne." There they had macarons, and cheese, and truffles, and drinks, and they wined and they dined till they could do so no more. The next moment the door to a luxurious hotel room swung open, from which Donnie and Kate came through. A bit more than tipsy they headed for the bed. The two jumped in and tussled about. Things quickly got hot and heavy. Kate peeled off her top. Donnie, who had less to drink than his female friend, just sat on his knees, cringing. Not because she looked bad, au contraire, but because he could not do it. She was all his, so it seemed, but for him it would be only a cheap win. Donnie pulled up Kate's clothes. "What're you doin'?" said Kate. "The right thing," said Donnie. "Don't you want me?" said Kate.

"Not like this," Donnie. "You're funny," Kate grinned. And then following these words she promptly threw up to the side of the bed and passed out. Donnie wiped her mouth, with a napkin from his pocket, and straightened her out to lay in bed. The next morning, before leaving, Donnie thought that he and Kate should visit the Pond des Arts and place a padlock on the fence-like railing. But when they went there the bridge was closed for repairs. They decided to forget about it, and headed to the airport. A successful trip to France led Donnie into another date with Kate some days later. This time it was domestic and plenty cheaper: at the local beach. Donnie tried holding Kate's hand, but she pulled it away. "Can't I hold your hand?" said Donnie. "I don't like holding hands," said Kate. "Why not?" said Donnie. "It's not you. I just make a habit of it." "Are you a germaphobe?" "Let's say that." "How about a kiss?" "No. Not that either. That's worse." "A hug?" "Not in the mood for hugs." Donnie was confused. He stopped walking, letting the hot sand press beneath his feet. "Alright," he said, "what's going on? Did I say something to upset you?" "No," said Kate. "I was just thinking." "About what?" "About things." "Like?" "Donnie, look. I appreciate your little trip to France. But..." "But?" "But I'd rather be just friends. Is that okay?" "But I don't want to be friends." "Why?" "I like you as more than a friend." "I'm sorry you feel that way. I see us as just friends." "Please, Kate." "Look, we can still enjoy each other's company. Can't you have fun with me -without my body?" "Of course." "Then that's that. We'll be friends." "Ummm... Okay... Would you excuse me for a moment, Kate? I need to, uh, do something." "Sure. Take your time."

Donnie headed for the toilets. As he was about to go into the men's area a large man, maybe intentionally, bumped into him. "Watch where you're going," said Garrett. "You watch yourself goddamnit," said Donnie, who was already in a bad mood. Garrett puffed out his body and poked Donnie in the chest. "Listen, Prince of Darkness, you better apologize right now or there's gonna be trouble." Donnie returned the gesture. "Yeah. Trouble for you." "Wiseguy, eh?" "Very wise." "Stop repeating what I'm saying." "No. You stop repeating what I'm saying." "What're you twelve?" "You're twelve!" Tempers flared, and Garrett -- at six foot one inches, and two hundred pounds -was about to heartily grab Donnie by the neck. But before he could do any squeezing, Kate came around and intervened. "What is going on here!?" she said to get everyone's attention. Donnie pointed. "This asshole bumped into me and wants me to apologize! The nerve!" Garrett folded his arms. "Nuh-uh!" "Well," said Kate to Donnie, "that asshole you're referring to is my friend...and my boss." "Your what?" said Donnie. "My boss," said Kate. "I work for him. So, I'd appreciate if you wouldn't resort to name calling." "I call 'em like I see 'em," said Donnie. "DONNIE!" said Kate. "Apologize." "But he started it," said Donnie. "I don't care who started it," said Kate. "I want you two to shake hands and say sorry to each other. Got it?" Donnie and Garrett grumbled, but shook hands. Donnie felt Garrett squeezing a wee bit too hard. He pulled his hand away as soon as he could. "There," said Kate. "That wasn't so bad. Now why don't you two introduce yourselves?" Donnie let out a deep breath. "I'm Donnie. You?" Garrett grunted. "Garrett." "There," said Kate. "Now isn't it nice that you're both getting along." She paused for a moment. "Um, would you two excuse me for a second? I need to use the lady's room." Donnie and Garrett nodded, then saw Kate away. Now the two were left alone, without supervision. Garrett stepped closer to Donnie and put his neck forward in a fashion similar to that of a parent speaking to his or her misbehaving child -- except here he had a shit eating grin. "What're you doing?" said Donnie. "Nothin'," said Garrett. "I'm serious," said Donnie. "Stop it."

"It's a free country, brother." "Free country or not you're bothering me." "So, you're Kate's friend, huh?" "What's it to you?" "But you want to be more than friends, don't you?" "Nice detective work, Sherlock." "But can I ask you a question?" "What?" "Why are you attracted to her? Just out of curiosity." "Why am I attracted to Kate? Well, it's pretty obvious... She's charming. Sweet. Kind. And there's something about her that I can't describe -- an innocence." Garrett laughed. "Ha-ha! Innocence is it?" "What's so funny?" said Donnie. "Oh, nothing." "It doesn't sound like nothing." "Donnie, do you know what I do for a living?" "No." "Do you know what Kate does for a living?" "Uh, she's given me a clue or two, but --" "Would you like to know?" "...I'm listening." "Welp..." "Hey!" said Kate as she returned. "What've you two been up to? Talking about sports?" "Yeah, something like that," said Garrett. "Oh really?" said Kate. "Yeah, it's all been very interesting," said Donnie. "Let's go home now, Kate. I'm tired." He grabbed Kate by the wrist. "You're hurting me," said Kate. "And I wanted to stay and talk." "We'll talk in the car," said Donnie. He waved to Garrett. "Goodbye, Mr. Garrett!" Donnie dragged Kate into his car, which sat on the curbside opposite to the beach. Donnie put up the windows, despite the warm weather. Kate looked out at Garrett walking away. Then she turned her eyes to Donnie, annoyed. Donnie wagged his finger. "Kate," he said, "whatever your job is you're quitting. Excuse me language, but I don't want you working for a piece of shit like that." "He's not a piece of shit, okay?" said Kate. "He gave me a job and it's paying the bills." "How much is he paying you?" said Donnie "That's a very rude question," said Kate. "How much?" "Enough!" Donnie put his view askance while Kate folded her arms. Yet he was persistent. "Okay, look," said Donnie. "Whatever you're getting from that...that thing you call a man, I'll double it. You can work for me and have any job you please." Kate sighed. "It's not about money, Donnie.". "Then what's it about?" said Donnie.

"I want independence," said Kate. "What're you going on about? You live in my home for free. That's not independence." "Well! I'd like to have a bit more, and I don't want to put all my eggs into one basket. Okay?" "You don't trust me is that it, Kate? You think I might kick you to the curbside at any moment?" "No. I just don't want to rely too much on one person. It's stupid to rely on one person." "Why do you say that?" "I don't wanna talk about it." "C'mon. You can tell me anything." "You know about my parents, right? How, how they're divorced?" "Right." "Were you parents divorced?" "I never met them." "Oh. Then I guess there's no point for my story. I'll just sound really whiny to you." "No, I'd like to hear it." "Well, my parents as you know are divorced, and when my mom left my dad it really -- fucked us up financially. I'm sorry. I shouldn't swear like that. I know it's not very lady like." "It's okay. I understand. What you're saying." "Hey. Can we leave now? I'm not feeling so good." "Sure. Anything you want." Chapter 21: Where in the World? That night Donnie went to bed early. Feeling exhausted from the day, despite it being devoid of work, he went under his blue blanket and grabbed his long body pillow. He put his leg atop it and laid on it for support -- and kissed it. He kissed it, and caressed it like a lover, and raved lines such as: "Oh, Kate, I love you so much," "You're the most beautiful woman in the world," and "I love you, I love you, I love you." Now he closed eyes, hoping to have a dream about his lady. What he could not get in the real world he hoped he could get in the dream world. In a few minutes he was off and asleep. Indeed a dream came, and was weird like dreams always are. Donnie dreamt that he was on a stage, rocking out, and playing a song. He saw Kate in the crowd, pulled her up, and laid a sweet kiss on her lips. After that she transformed into a praying mantis and did what praying mantises do -- eat the male's body immediately after mating. Donnie awoke to the sound of ringing. He looked at his alarm clock to see the time; it was just about five in the morning. He fumbled for the telephone in the scant light, and picked up the receiver. He rubbed his eyes and said in a groggy voice, "Ugh, hello?" "Donnie," said Pearl, who was on the other end, "is that you? I've been trying to reach you for days."

"Uh, sorry," said Donnie. "I've been preoccupied. Is this Pearl?" "Am I calling too early?" said Pearl. "No, good timing actually," said Donnie. "You saved me from the praying mantis." "What?" "Nothing. What're you calling for again?" "I have some good news and I have some bad news. Which would you like to hear first?" "Bad news. You hear the bad news first, and then the good news will cheer you up at the end. All's well that ends well. Right?" "Are you sure? It's pretty bad." "How bad?" "Uh..." "Fine. Gimme the good news first." "You're a very handsome man." "Okay, thanks? And the bad news?" "The homeless shelter burnt down." Donnie sat up. "What?!" "THE HOMELESS SHELTER BURNT DOWN!" said Pearl. "I heard you the first time," said Donnie. "What happened?" "The fire marshal thinks it was caused by the thunderstorm." "Was anyone hurt?" "Not to my knowledge." "Oh. Well. I guess we can always rebuild. Did you call the insurance people yet?" "Yes, and we are not covered." "Are you serious?" "Force majeure. It's an act of God. It isn't covered." "But we were covered for 'force majeure'! I read the contract myself!" "Settle down. Let me look at these papers here." Donnie listened through the phone and heard Pearl leafing through a stack of papers. "Ah-ha," she said. "Here we go. You are covered for four types of storms: Wind storms, ice storms, sand storms, and political storms. But nothing else." "Political storms?" "Yeah. Anyway, so is this the end of your charity or what? Can I go back to my normal job?" "No you cannot go back to your normal job, Pearl." "Nuts." "Anyway, I'll be over to see the place. But before I go gimme an idea. How bad is it exactly?" "As bad as that singer who grabs his crotch all the time." "Damn. That's pretty bad." It was about 6:00 AM when Donnie arrived at his charity's homeless shelter -- or rather what remained of it -- and at this early hour he was still half asleep. The cup of coffee he drank before arriving had yet to kick in. He walked along the sidewalk to see his building

that had burnt to a crisp. The walls were black, and the roof was stripped away. There was nothing hidden to the naked eye of this destroyed structure. It smelt like overdone French fries, with a hint of menthol cigarettes. Menthol cigarettes? Donnie went around the corner and saw Pearl standing against a blackened column. She snuffed out her cigarette on the ground by grinding it down with her heel. "Pearl," said Donnie. "What're you doing here?" Pearl blew a smoke ring with the remaining smoke in her lungs. "I got nothing better to do." The following week was full of hard work, where Donnie oversaw every detail of the rebuilding of his homeless shelter. It was going to be, according to his words, "brand spanking new." The last building was incredibly old and constructed with wooden beams; this time it was all steel. While construction workers went to and fro, Donnie wondered whether he should rename the shelter to make it more grandiose. He was thinking of a name something like "phoenix." "Too cliche," he thought aloud. "I agree," said Xavier. Donnie glared at Xavier, who was now in his personal space. "Xavier," he said, clenching his teeth. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" "I heard about your little tragedy on the grape vine," said Xavier. "I thought I could help." "And what can you do?" said Donnie. "I own a construction company." "I've already started repairs." "And it's coming along quiet swimmingly, I must say." "What do you want?" "Have you seen Kate?" "No. She's been --" "Ignoring you?" "Busy. She's busy, Xavier." "Why don't you ever call me by my first name, Donnie? This whole Xavier thing is getting kind of stale. My name's Aaron." "We'll start calling you Aaron when your dad dies." "It can't come soon enough." "Hm?" "I mean -- the reclaiming of my first name." "Anyway, you said were looking for Kate?" "No." "So what was with the question?" "I just wanted to double check something." "What?" "Are you two an item?" "That's not really any of your business, is it?" "I'll take that as a no."

"What is the point of this?" "Oh, me and Kate a little frisky last night. I just wanna make sure she's not getting anything on the side. I like to make safe bets." Donnie imagined himself punching Xavier in the face. "What do you mean by frisky?" said Donnie. "I'm sorry, I don't kiss and tell." "Is that what you did? Kiss?" "She said I was very good. She quite enjoyed it." "You're lying." "Am I?" "You just came here to wind me up, didn't you?" "Did I?" "Stop answering me like that. With questions. And... Get the hell out of here!" On those words Donnie pushed Xavier. Xavier didn't like it, but somehow he remained cool. He stepped back and brushed off his shoulder, like he was brushing off the hostile gesture. "Pushy, pushy," Xavier said with a grin. Donnie was about to react (poorly), but then his unwanted visitor turned around, and whistled himself away. The tune he whistled sounded something like "zip-a-dee-doodah-zip-a-dee-day." Donnie hung up his phone for the seventh or maybe eightieth time. He kept trying to reach Kate, but all he got was her machine that kept saying, "I'm sorry. We're not here right now. Please leave a message." (Note: For safety reasons you should not give an indication that you are away from home on your answering machine.) He left a message, simple and straight, "Kate? It's Donnie. Where are you? Call me as soon as you become available." He hung up, feeling pathetic. He stood and paced around his kitchen. He talked to himself as he normally did whenever stressed. "Maybe I shouldn't have left that message," Donnie thought aloud. "It sounds desperate. Clingy. Maybe I should leave another message, reaffirming that I am not desperate. Or maybe I should go and see her in person. That'll make her see otherwise!" So then, Donnie went to visit Kate at their mansion. He got out of his car, and ran to the door. He let out a breath before ringing the door bell. Ding! Dong! Ding! Dong! Ding! Dong! "Maybe she's not home?" said Donnie. Yet he tried one more time. There was no response to his gesture. It seemed no one was around, except when he turned his head to hear a curious noise in the distance. Someone nearby was giggling. He came off the steps he was on, and walked down to see two figures across the street in an embrace. They were under the street lamp, exchanging kisses. Kate and Xavier didn't notice Donnie. Donnie, however, noticed them, and was full out crying, blubbering like a baby. He retreated into the darkness when the two seemed like they had heard. And he ran to the mansion and fell against the wall. He

pulled himself up and put his arm against his face. He wept into it as hard as any man ever could. There weren't buckets of tears, but one could estimate. "No," said Donnie. "it must be a mistake. Lookalikes." He spoke to himself. "Hold yourself together. Check again." He returned to the scene by stumbling to see Kate and Xavier still kissing and handling each other. It wasn't particularly long, not more than a minute, but it felt like a life time. Donnie knew it was real, but hardly could believe it. He was going to run off again, but then he was spotted. "Donnie?" said Kate, after coming up for air. "Is that you?" Donnie stood frozen. "Donnie!" said Kate, trying to get his attention. Donnie reluctantly waddled over to both Kate and Xavier. None of them knew what emotional outbursts had happened earlier, since Donnie's reddened eyes weren't easy to see as he avoided eye contact as much as possible in the darkness of the night. "Why," said Xavier, "if it isn't my good friend Donnie." "Donnie," said Kate, "what were you doing over there?" "I, I was, I was going to pay you a visit," said Donnie. "Next time please call ahead," said Kate. "I tried calling," said Donnie. "I didn't get your calls," said Kate. "Maybe that's because youre ignoring me," said Donnie. "I am not ignoring you," said Kate. "YES, YOU ARE!" yelled Donnie. "You know damn well right you are!" Kate buttoned up her coat. "Let's go," she said to Xavier. "It's getting chilly out here." Kate and Xavier walked off, leaving Donnie alone. Donnie sat on the curbside, alone, under the street lamp. Chapter 22: Pat The mailbox was rusted at the hinges. Donnie looked into it, hoping that there would be a letter inside. "Nothing," he said. Then the mailman named Patrick (Pat for short) came around. He had on shorts in spite of the cold weather and a brownish-yellow bag around his shoulder. Donnie went over to him before he could step onto the walkway. "Hello, Pat," said Donnie. "Hello," said Pat. "Are there any letters for me today?" said Donnie. "A few." "Anything from Kate?" "Kate who?" "Kate Witman. I've been writing her." "Huh, no. Not to my knowledge." "Are you sure? Can you check?" "I've checked."

"Oh." "So who's this Kate? She your sweetheart or something?" "Maybe." "Aah, you're in a long distance relationship, aren't you?" "Well --" "I had a girlfriend once. She lived all the way out west. Took me 5 hours by car to go and see her. But I did it every weekend." "And everything worked out?" "For a while, but then she died." "What happened?" "Alright. I lied. I've never had a girlfriend -- but I'm not a virgin. So that's something." "Right. Could I have my mail now?" Pat the mailman handed Donnie a stack of letters. "By the way," said Donnie, "thanks again for that gift you gave me last week. I find myself using it all the time. I'm surprised I've never seen it in stores. Where exactly did you get it from?" "I got it from work," said Pat. "Your work gave it to you?" said Donnie. "No. I stole it." "Er, really? But won't you get fired?" "Nah. Workers steal from the post office all the time. Even the supervisors." "Still. Can't you get in trouble?" "Maybe I will, maybe I won't. For now I'll enjoy my free presents from the Sharper Image." "Oh. O-kay. I have to go now." "Nice chatting to you, huh!" Then Donnie retreated into the airlock of his home and went through his (own) mail. It was bills, bills, more bills, and couple of adverts. One leaflet was for something called seduction school, which shouted slogans like: "Get any woman you want," "Learn the science of seduction," and "Have the sex life you want." Donnie crumpled it up into a ball and threw it away. Days passed, making Donnie become increasingly agitated. Kate neither replied to his letters, nor his phone calls. So, he decided to pay her another visit at their mansion. He went there in his best clothes and knocked at the door. "Hello," said Donnie, "is anyone home?" He rapped several more times, but there was no answer. He was about to turn away when... "Wait a minute," he said. "This is my house! This is my mansion! I can go in at any time I damn well please!" And then he sighed, "But I forgot my copy of the keys." And then he looked to the window that was adjacent. "It's not a crime to break into your own place, is it?" Donnie picked up a rock from the ground and hurled it forward. When he got his way into the mansion he honestly wondered, "Maybe I should've got an alarm system installed?"

He went into the kitchen and retrieved a broom. After he swept up the mess that he had made he went over to the trash bin. He stepped on the pedal to lift the lid, and paused as he noticed a collection of envelopes within. He put down the dustpan in his hand and picked up the envelopes. All of them were from him. Kate had discarded nearly every letter he had sent. He placed them on the counter. He wanted to yell, yell so bad, but his throat was too dry. He rubbed it like it was sore and then went to the refrigerator to look for a drink to drink. All there was was wine and some other miscellaneous booze. While he didn't consider himself to be a drinker, he grabbed the first bottle he could, and swigged it regardless of the alcoholic content. As red liquid poured down the side of his face a shriek was heard. Donnie turned his head and saw the end of a broom coming toward him. He got smacked in the head. Several times. "Get out of my house!" said Kate. "You dirty thief!" "I'm not a thief!" said Donnie while holding up his arms to shield himself. "It's me!" "Me who?!" "Donnie!" "Donnie?" Kate, who was in her jammies, put down her broom and saw Donnie under the light of the sun -- which only recently appeared after coming away from a gray cloud. She looked astray and noted the half missing window. "What's going on here?" she said. "Why is the window broken?" "Well, sir," said Donnie. "I was, uh, trying to get inside here, uh, secretly, so that I, er, um, could, um, surprise you. Surprise!" "Yeah," said Kate. "Some surprise." "I'm spontaneous like that." "So, what's the surprise?" "The surprise? Um..." Donnie looked around at his environment for ideas. "A restaurant," said Donnie. "I am taking you to a restaurant." "Again? What's the occasion?" said Kate. "Just because," said Donnie. "I don't know what that means." "Me neither." "Alright, let's go then. I have nothing better to do, I guess." "O-kay." "But where're we going?" The car slowed down in front of a Chinese restaurant called "Wing's Wings." Donnie put it into park and opened the door on Kate's side. Kate clutched her purse to her chest. "Wait," she said, "do we have to go here?" "Why, what's the matter?" said Donnie. "Isn't this a bad area?" "Uuh, It's being fixed up." "I'd rather not go in. I don't like Chinese." "People?"

"No. The food." "But I thought you said your favorite food was spring rolls." "Okay. I like Chinese food. But I'm not really in the mood for it today." "C'mon. It's a really nice place once you get inside. I came here with Teddy before in fact." "Oh, alright... Fine." "Thank you." Kate came out of the car, and followed Donnie to the sidewalk. As the two headed for the restaurant she continually looked over her shoulder. It seemed that the strip club next door -- aptly named the Bearded Taco -- was making her uncomfortable. You could see it in her partly narrowed eyes. "Are you okay?" said Donnie. "Like I said before," said Kate. "This is a bad area." "It's not the ghetto." "Sure smells like the ghetto." "That's because we're approaching the restaurant. Every Chinese restaurant smells like the ghetto." "If you say so." Kate grimaced. Donnie and Kate went into the Chinese restaurant called "Wing's Wings." When they came out an hour later they were laughing and leaning against each other. Everything had went better than expected. "Oh, god," said Donnie while laughing. "I can't believe he... Ha-ha-ha! That was literally the funniest thing I've ever heard!" "Yeah!" said Kate. "Eh-he-he! I can't believe that happened!" "It was something out of a PG Wodehouse book!" "My face is burning from smiling!" "Me too!" As Kate and Donnie were about to get in their car a voice out of the blue called out. Garrett, leaning against the exterior wall of the strip club, flicked away his cigarette and growled, "Kate. Aren't you going to say 'hello'?" Kate winced. "Kate," Garrett repeated. "Are you even listening to me?" Kate unhooked arms with Donnie, who was quite annoyed at this point, and reluctantly went over to Garrett. "Sorry," said Kate. "I didn't notice you standing there." "I don't like this attitude you're givin' me," said Garrett. "I apologize, if I came off rude. That was not my intention." "Whatever. You working tonight or what?" "I was hoping for some time off." "No can do, Kate." "Please." "Come in tonight, otherwise you're fired." "In the case maybe I'll just quit." "Jesus Christ. You're the most difficult whore I've ever met."

Donnie stepped in front of Kate and looked up at Garrett. He balled up his hands, making them into fists. "What was that?" said Donnie. "Did you just call my friend a whore?" "I call it like it is," said Garrett. "Look," said Donnie. "I don't care if you are Kate's boss. You best apologize." "I can see you're angry," said Garrett. "But I think what we have here is a failure to communicate." "What are you going on about?" "I didn't call Kate a whore to insult her. No. I was referring to her choice of career." "I don't get it." "Look behind me, you dummy. I run this place." "The Bearded Taco. What is that? A restaurant?" "Goddamn it, man. It's a strip club." "And Kate's a waitress there, right?" "She serves up something, but it ain't food or booze." "Are you saying she's a stripper?" "Ding-ding-ding! Winner, winner, chicken dinner!" Kate's face went red. "Is it true?" said Donnie. "Well," said Kate. "The thing is --" "Is it!?" said Donnie. "Yes!" said Kate. "It's true... Anyway, It's not such a big deal. I'm just comfortable in my own skin. That's all." "Hm. So, you're totally okay with shaking your tits around for money, huh?" "You're getting awfully rude." "Yeah, well, I'm kind of in a mood." Garrett folded his arms and shook his head. He sighed in an insincere manner (if that's possible). "Ah, I hate watching friends quarrel." Donnie snapped his teeth together at Garrett like an angry dog -- or, for that matter, any wild animal with rabies. "Shut your face," said Donnie. "Don't talk to him like that," said Kate. "Sticking up for your pimp, eh?" said Donnie. "He's not my pimp." "Yeah, yeah, he's something else, ain't he?" "You're being condescending." "Do you even know what that means?" "That's it. We're through here. I'm going home." Donnie stepped in Kate's way. "Get out my way," said Kate. "We're not finished this conversation," said Donnie. "I think we are." "Listen to me. I want you to quit your job -- now!" "You're not in a position to tell me what to do."

"Kate, if you don't quit your job, I am not going to let you live in my home anymore. Got it?" "Is that how it's gonna be, Donnie? An ultimatum?" "I'm sorry. You forced my hand." "You forced my hand too." Kate went under Garrett's arm, which pleased him very much. "Garrett," said Kate, "I think I'll come in early for work today." "Attagirl," said Garrett. And then Kate and Garrett walked toward the doors of the strip club called the Bearded Taco, where in front was an imposing security guard wearing sunglasses. Donnie tried following, but was stopped by the big man named Bruiser. Of course that was only his nickname. No parent is stupid enough to actually name their kid that. Bruiser put his hand out to Donnie as Kate and Garrett passed into the lecherous building. "Please, get out of my way," said Donnie. "I saw everything," said Bruiser. "And I feel for you, but if you think you're gonna get by you must be mad." "Mad as a fox," said Donnie. And as he took a step forward, Bruiser stood his ground, and flexed one of his biceps. Donnie saw this monstrosity of an arm that was as thick as his as football. But nevertheless, he made eye direct contact, unwavering, and puffed up his chest -- then retreated into his car to leave. "Next time," said Donnie. "Next time." Chapter 23: Pounding Sand It was a hot, smoldering day. The green gate behind swung open. Teddy let himself into the backyard and stood under the awning. He stood by for a minute, watching his dear friend let out all his frustrations. Then he decided to let his presence be known. "Shake it, boy!" said Teddy. Donnie stopped and turned around to face Teddy. He looked embarrassed. "Teddy," said Donnie. "How long you been standing there?" "Not that long," said Teddy. "I was just admiring your little shuffle." "Am I any good?" "Needs a bit of work." "Oh." "Anyway, I haven't seen you in a while. Thought I'd pay you a visit. What're you up to exactly?" "You know it. Getting through life. Kicking some ass. Um, imaginary ass." "Heh. Got a grudge against someone?" "I got a couple grudges actually." "Oh no. A couple? You know that you should never have more than one, right? It'll wear you out quick." "I know." "Hm, let me guess. Is this about a woman?" "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess... What was her name again? Katie?" "Kate." "Right. Kate. And the problem we're having is?" "She's a... I can't even use the word." "Go on. She's a?" "A, a, a stripper." Teddy curled up his lip in a curious fashion. He went "hmm" whilst both his hands were in his pockets. "That is very interesting," he said. "It's disgusting," said Donnie. "So you don't like her anymore, I gather?" said Teddy. "Worse than that," said Donnie. "I think I hate her." "I thought you were in love." "I'm not." "So, okay. Now you hate her because she's not what you thought she was? Is that it? Lemme tell you something, man -- if that's the case, then I doubt you were ever in love with her at all." "I disagree." "Donnie. If you really love someone you'll accept them for who they are. Without conditions. Or rules. Or ultimatums. You gotta take the whole package. You can't suddenly turn your nose up at them just because they're not doing every little thing that you want." "Teddy. She takes her clothes off for strangers. This isn't something insignificant." "I know. But if you really care about her you'll be more understanding. Do you care about her? Or are you gonna stick to your bullshit 'I hate her' statement." "Okay. I don't hate her. She just drives me crazy sometimes. Okay?" "No need to get annoyed at me. I understand what you're going through. Love hurts, right?" "Well... Not when it's between a man and his dog." "Ah, but you don't have a dog. You only have a bitch." Donnie rolled his eyes. "Sorry," said Teddy, "bad joke?" "Never mind," said Donnie. "Right." "Anyway, sooo, what're you doing tonight, huh? I was thinking we could hang out. Maybe do something fun? Karaoke?" "Erm --" "Come on. It's not as bad as you think." "Sorry. As much as I want to, I can't. I have plans." "Can I come along in these plans?" "It's a date." "Great! I'll meet up with you at --" "I MEAN I'm going out on a date, Donnie. Me and someone else." "Oh. A date? That's good. What's her name?" "Her name? Uuh, Sam."

"Sounds cute. Where you guys going?" "Nothing too fancy. Maybe the movie theater. A restaurant." "Cool, cool. When you going?" "Actually, I have to get ready right now." "Oh. Alright. See you tomorrow?" "Maybe." Teddy left Donnie's backyard. It was a Friday night and Donnie had nothing to do. His best friend had left him to go on a date and the woman he cared for wanted nothing to do with him. He sat in his armchair, in his bedroom, staring blankly at the wall. He was in such a frozen state that not even his imagination could amuse him. Then he started talking to himself, perhaps out of sheer loneliness. "Well, here I am," said Donnie. "Alone at home on a Friday night. I tell you what. If I were elsewhere -- out of this garbage hole -- I'd be whooping it up. Hhmph. What a city. I do all these good things and no one even appreciates me. Not my best friend, not Pearl... Not that stupid, stupid woman!" Donnie became incredibly agitated and suddenly stood. He paced up and down with heavy steps. "Who does she think she is? I give her everything and all I get is spit in my face. I don't need her. I should go out and find someone else. And why not? Why the hell not? I deserve better, don't I? Yeah! Forget Kate! Kate Shmate!" And so, on these word of "Kate Shmate," Donnie went out to try and turn around his luck. Fortunately, it wasn't too late in the night for something to do. Donnie went out and -- visited the convenience store, where he bought a dirty magazine and a bucket of ice cream. It was good, Swedish, ice cream. The following day, Saturday, Donnie had concocted a plan. He would banish his loneliness and get his groove on -- or whatever you could get on -- by meeting new people. After falling asleep in his armchair, with the TV on, he got the idea in a dream to try out speed dating. "Here goes nothing," Donnie said to himself, then he walked into a grand hall adorned with red velvet and gold trimmings. A middle-aged woman in a green suit, who had bright ginger hair and a brooch on her chest the size of a peach, greeted him. "Welcome," she said. "How do you do?" "How do I do what?" said Donnie. "I can see that you're new to this," said Emma. She paused. "Actually, everyone's new to this, no?" "No?" "Do you have any idea how this works?" "An explanation would be nice." "It's very simple. There is a woman for every table. You get to talk to each for a total of ten minutes. A bell will ring telling you to move on to the next person. Then after the event the ladies may request your phone number, and, if you're lucky, you can continue the date outside. So, keep it fun, keep it flirty. Anything goes, except for groping."

"Does that really happen?" "Saw it with my own eyes. A 'gentleman' reached across the table and squeezed them like he was checking fruit." "Were the melons ripe?" Emma glared at Donnie. "I'm, I'm joking," said Donnie. "I would never ever dream of doing that. It's terrible, it's horrible, and I hope that anyone who would do such a thing is dead or in prison." He gave a nervous grin. Emma rolled her eyes. "Go over to the big table, and give your information over there," said Emma. Donnie, shoulders slightly slumped, did as suggested, and went over to the big table that sat to one side; there he was greeted by a lady in a crimson red frock. "Hi," said Jezebel. She pushed a form forward. "Fill this out, place it on the pile, and then join the other men when you're done." She gave Donnie a folded piece of paper from a gentleman's hat. "This is your number for the first woman you'll be talking to. It matches a number on the table." Donnie opened his piece of paper and saw the number five. "Ah, my lucky number," he said. "How nice," said Jezebel. Donnie began filling out his form. "I have a question," he said. "What exactly is the rate of success on these things? I mean you really think I'm gonna find someone here?" "Would you like my personal opinion?" said Jezebel. "Sure," said Donnie. "Women are more interested in men who have 'universal appeal.'" "Huh? What's that mean?" "I have things to do. Why don't you go and join the others now?" "Okay..." Donnie put his form on the pile of forms and then went over to the group of shy, mostly average looking, confident-lacking men in the corner. With a bit over twenty of them the smell of after shave, and cologne was overwhelming. He stayed as far away as possible without completely isolating himself. Emma stood before all the single men and cleared her throat. "Gentleman," she announced. "As soon as the horn sounds you are off to meet a stranger, someone who might turn into a good friend, or the love of your life. So, let the games begin, and -- good luck!" Pwaaaaah! (That was the sound of the horn.) All the men from the corner dispersed and eagerly went to meet their ladies. Donnie got to table number five. He sat down in front of a woman, who by coincidence greatly reminded him of Kate. It wasn't her looks really, but rather the way she carried herself. She had light blonde hair, light brown eyes, a sharp nose, thin eye brows, freckles, and lips that curled ever so slightly. "Nice to meet you," said Eva. "I'm Eva. And you?" "Underwood," said Donnie, trying to be like James Bond, "Donnie Underwood." "So," said Eva with a smile, "are you nervous?"

"I'm more hopeful than nervous." "This is my first time doing this. But I guess it's that way for most people, isn't it? This is pretty new stuff, huh?" "To be honest, I'm kinda skeptical. I mean what can two people say in ten minutes?" "Mmhm." "You know, you really remind me of someone I know." "Yeah? Who?" "A female friend of mine." "What's her name?" "Kate." "Is she pretty?" "Very pretty." "...As pretty as me?" "Much, much prettier." "I see." "I'm sorry. That came out the wrong way. I just meant that you aren't on the same level as her. If she's an angel, you're a lady with a harp." "Stop while you're ahead, Casanova." "Are you angry?" "No. But I am starting to think ten minutes talking to someone is too long for a speed date." "Oh..." The eight minutes and ten seconds remaining with Donnie and Eva lapsed. A bell rung and then he was off to his next lady at table number six. The tables were arranged in an ovular fashion, so it was easy to move around. "How are you?" said the lady named Sage. She wasn't quite as attractive as the last, but had the girl next-door look. "I'm Sage." "I'm Donnie," said Donnie, introducing himself for a second time. "I'm doing alright. And yourself?" "Not too bad," said Sage. "The last guy here talked to me about his insect collection, and his fascination with UFOs. He told me the pyramids were really built by aliens -- because how could a species that's gone to moon possibly make sand triangles, hm?" "What a nutter." "Tell me about it. So! How much money do you make?" "I'm sorry?" "How much money do you make?" "Um, not that I mind telling you -- I'm a business person, and in my opinion money's just a bunch numbers, nothing personal -- but don't you think your question's a bit odd?" "So, you're in business? That must pay quite well. How much are we talking here? Six figures? Seven?" "I don't get it. You're here to get a sugar daddy or what?" "Let's be on the real here, Donnie. Why do men and women get together? Hmm?" "Companionship?"

"No. Sex and money. The woman provides the sex. The man provides the money. Now, you know what you're getting up front, I wanna know what I'm getting up front." "Excuse me. I drank a lot of water before coming here. I need to use the, er, little boy's room. Would you mind?" Sage gestured, allowing Donnie to excuse himself. "Thank you," he said. Then he stood and went to the area where the washrooms were. There he saw the blue door for gentlemen. As he was about to go in a woman named Snooker suddenly appeared and shoved him against a wall. She was five foot something, or maybe four foot something, and had a leg up that was as thick as her torso. She was also dressed in a dress that looked more like a bikini, and had a face that could sink 1,000 ships. She pressed her body against "her man." "I don't usually do this," said Snooker, "but I have to have you." Donnie tried keeping his head away from Snooker's puckerd lips. "Wow," he said. "Uh, can I have a minute to think about that?" "Oooh, I can't wait that long," said Snooker. "Uh, patience is a virtue," said Donnie. "Please, don't tease me." "Look, miss, I find your offering very flattering, but I'm not really in the mood for whatever it is you're offering." "Why not? Am I not good enough for you? Not pretty enough?" "Nooo! You look great. I'm just kinda, sorta, involved with someone right now." "And you expect me to believe that, big boy? You're at an event for singles. You must be single." "It's complicated." "So, make it less complicated. Ditch the girl. You and me, no strings attached, FW-B." "Quoi?" "Friends with benefits. We can start right away." "I'm sorry. That's really gross." "I beg you. I'm starved. I haven't had sex in a over a week." "Um. Who are you again?" "Snooker. They call me that because I'm like a snooker table. I take in a lot --" "Alright! I have to go now." "You poor bastard. You don't know what you're missing. Allow me to demonstrate." Snooker then started dry humping Donnie -- slowly and gently, yet vigorously. Donnie panicked, and, by reflexes, accidentally shoved her to the floor. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said. "It was a mistake!" Snooker sat still, blinking, not quite sure what had hit her. "Okay," said Donnie. "You take care. I'll be going now." And he reversed on his heels, and ran off as fast as he could. All the ladies and men in the hall turned their heads, looking at the man in the suit bolting out the front door. Speed dates indeed.

Chapter 24: Man's Best Friend "Teddy," said Donnie, "what do you think about bars for singles?" "What type?" said Teddy. Donnie maneuvered around his long telephone cord. "Huh? There's more than one type?" "Yeah." "Okay. Then, um, what do you think about the normal ones?" "They're okay for meeting people, I guess." "I was thinking, you and me should go to one. Find a woman for me. Find a woman for you." "Donnie, I don't think that's a good idea." "Why not?" "I wanna hang out with you, Donnie, but not while hitting on women." "It'll be fun. You can be my wing man and vice-a-versa. Even if we don't succeed at least there's a place where you can drown your woes." "Can't we do something else? Boozing and schmoozing just ain't doing it for me these days." "Never mind then. I'll find someone else." "So, we're not gonna hang out?" "Maybe later." "Oh, okay." "I'll call you tomorrow." "Yeah." "Bye." "Bye." Donnie hung up the phone and dialed the next person he knew: Allison. Allison answered after maybe one too many rings. She sounded quite stressed out. There was noise of banging and clanging in the background. "Hello," she said in a rapid voice. "What can I do for you?" "Hi," said Donnie. "Who is this?" said Allison. "It's me." "Me who?!" "Donnie." "Oh! Yes. What can I do for you?" "You sound stressed out." "Yagh! My parents in law are coming over for dinner, and I burnt my hands, and dropped my casserole on the ground!" "Can I speak to George for a minute?" "He's busy." "Doing what?" "Helping me mark my papers." "But he's a history teacher. Aren't you a math teacher?" "No one's gonna know." "Well --"

"Oh! I have to go now, Donnie! Bye!" Click. "Bah," Donnie said to himself. "Who needs 'em? I'll make some new friends." The animal sheltered reeked of urine. In the cages were dogs, cats, rabbits, and even mice. These creatures had been abandoned by neglectful owners. Donnie hoped to take one home, to change its life, and have some companionship. He cleared his throat -ahem -- at the lady who had her head buried in a gossip magazine. She looked up and forced a smile. "Halloa!" she said. (Pronounced huh-lo!) "Hi," said Donnie. "I'm looking to adopt a pet. Could you help me out?" "Are you sure?" said Cindy. "They can be quite the hassle. They're like children, but you don't get the benefit of passing along your DNA." "I think I can handle that." "If you can't get one you can't return it." "I'm aware." "You also have to make a donation." "That's fine." "In Japan they have virtual pets. Maybe you should look into that instead?" "I don't want a virtual pet." "They're quite fun. I had one and it died." "What happened?" "Batteries ran out." "...Can I see the animals now?" Cindy came out from behind her counter, and led Donnie through the pet shelter. "I have to say," said Donnie, "you look awfully familiar." "You too," said Cindy. "Have we met before?" "I don't think so." "Maybe we did." "You think?" "Yah. Or maybe I'm just confused because you guys all look so similar." "...I don't think that's it." "Anyway --" Cindy took Donnie to where the cats were. "What do you think of cats, hm?" she said. "They're low maintenance, independent, and are often used for innuendos." "Well, I'm not much of a cat person," said Donnie. "Aw, keep an open mind," said Cindy. "Let me introduce you to Mittens, our 'resident cat.'" She then whistled and summoned an orange cat from out the darkness. "Go on. Try petting her." Donnie bent over and put out his hand. As his fingers got close to Mittens, she jumped up, and scratched them. "MEOWR!" she went. Donnie pulled back. "Jesus!" he said. He put his bleeding finger in his mouth. "Doesh it have wabies or what?"

"That's odd," said Cindy. "She's not normally like that." "Please," said Donnie. "Take me to the dogs." Donnie now had paper towels wrapped around his hand and was looking at the available dogs, whilst Cindy continued on as if nothing had happened. "Anything you see that interests you?" said Cindy. "How about Roxio? He's been here for a while. For some reason no one wants to adopt him." She pointed to an anorexic-looking dog that was shivering and had patches of hair missing. It kept its head down, averting any gaze. "Truthfully," said Donnie, "I'd prefer something healthier." "Aw," said Cindy, "too bad. We'll have to put him to sleep." "What's that?" "We're going to put him down." "Why?" "He's been here almost four weeks. Our budget doesn't allow us to keep animals for more than four weeks. If we can't find an animal an owner, then they get put to sleep and it's off to the glue factory. Elmer's, I believe." "Wait. What if you had more money? What then?" "I guess we could keep him a bit longer." "Could you turn this into a sanctuary?" "That's beyond me. We're bleeding money out the wazoo. We'd need to buy more space, and land, and -- no, no, no. We couldn't do that. Anyways, who'd give us that kind of scratch?" "Someone might." "It's doubtful. Um, did you just wink at me?" "Why don't you show me another dog, hm?" Donnie returned home with a dog. Though it wasn't the mangy thing that he had seen earlier, it too was in need of an owner. It was a friendly animal with a white coat and black spots. Donnie took it along while walking through the neighborhood. "Now, what should I name you?" he said aloud, thinking. He glanced down to the side. "Max? Nah. Too cliche. Ruffy? Again, cliche, and not that imposing. Killer? Mm, too violent. Jack? Er, sounds kinda perverted. Charlie? You don't look like a Charlie... Ah! This is harder than naming a baby." Donnie then stepped onto a sidewalk, which was soaked in water. There ahead stood an elderly man holding a hose, busily spraying away debris. Just above him was a twirling red and white pole that accented his puffy hair. He had a red tie, a white button-up t-shirt, and dark slacks, and he whistled happily whilst doing his work. Suddenly Donnie's dalmatian pulled him forward and and jumped to drink from the hose. Its long tongue hastily lapped up what it could. "Ho!" said Chuck, the elderly man. "And what's your name, boy?" "Donnie," said Donnie. He realized. "Oh! The dog. He doesn't have a name." "Alright then," said Chuck. "We should get on that." "Wait a minute," said Donnie. (He glanced up at the sign that read: "Chuck's Barber Shop.") "Are you Chuck?" "Who wants to know?"

"Wow. I hardly recognized you. So much time has passed. You look, uh --" "Fat?" "But everything else looks great." "Thank you." "Wow. I used to come here as a kid. Do you recognize me at all?" "You that kid that ate hair from the floor?" "No." "Ah, I gave it a shot." "Hey, how about I get haircut for old times' sake? Are you almost done with the sidewalk?" "Sure am. But wait a minute, let's try and give your friend a name, hm?" "Okay. What've you got in mind?" Chuck scratched his chin for a moment. "How 'bout Hoser?" "Hoser?" said Donnie. "'Look at him drinking from that hose. He's most definitely a Hoser." "Genius." "You got anything better?" "Okay. Hoser it is -- for now." "Ah, glad we agree. Now, let's step into my office, and I'll get you fixed up. Bring the dog along too." "Oh, are you an animal lover?" "No. It's just that someone will steal him if you leave him out." "What type of asshole steals a dog?" "Exactly." The chimes above the barbershop door rang. Donnie put Hoser aside and then took a seat in the first big red chair, which Chuck adjusted by stepping on the pedal. "How shall I style you?" said Chuck as he put a salon cape around Donnie. "Uh, what do you recommend?" said Donnie. "Lot of people these days are going full out bald," said Chuck. "I'll be honest, I'd rather not." "You sure you don't wanna 'be like Mike?'" "Very sure." "Okay. How about dreadlocks? They're getting real trendy, both with black folks and them white folks." "Really? What? No, just gimme a business cut. Something that I can use for a meeting." "Good thinking. That's how you keep employed... So, now that we know what kinda haircut you want, how about a shave?" "That'd be nice." "Comin' right up." And then Chuck returned with a steaming towel. He wrapped it around Donnie's scraggly beard and let it sit for a minute. After the minute he took it off and -- from a device that looked like a futuristic ketchup dispenser -- acquired a handful of hot shaving cream. He put it all over Donnie's lower face. Donnie went "mmmm" pleased at the soothing warmth.

At this point Chuck had retrieved a straight razor from the counter before him. He stroked it back and forth against a strip of rough leather (called a strop), and took it over to Donnie to carefully removed his beard. A few minutes later it was time for a haircut. Donnie sat straight and looked himself in the mirror, while Chuck wielded an electric shaver. Soon hair began falling to the floor. "So," said Chuck. "How you been enjoying your stay in the city? I take it you haven't been here too long, since you're walkin' around with your pup all Willy Nilly." "Honest to God truth," said Donnie, "it's not as bad as people think. I don't know what the cause for alarm is. I'm enjoying myself here. It's been great. A real roller coaster ride." "Yeah," said Chuck, "because roller coaster rides are always fun." "If you have the stomach for it." "And d'you have the stomach for it?" "Not lately." "I know what's bothering you." "Do you?" "I'm almost 100%." "Alright, tell you what. If you can guess what my problem is, I'll give you... 100%. A 100% tip for a 100% answer." "Money in the bank, boy. I know what it is... You have AIDS." "I don't have AIDS." "Dang it. I was so sure. Everyone's pickin' that up these days -- aah, well, what's the problem then?" "It's kind of embarrassing." "Woman problems?" "How does everyone know?" Chuck shifted his electric shaver to the other side of Donnie's head. "There are three basic problems men have in life," Chuck explained. "Money problems, health problems, and -- last but not least -- love problems. If it ain't the first two it's the third, and it sure as hell is a doozy." "Well, yeah," Donnie said with a sigh, "whaddaya gonna do?" "Maybe we can discuss it. What specifically is the problem?" "Um, how can I say this...? She doesn't wanna be with me." "I know a good solution for that." "You do?" "Find someone else." "You have any other suggestions? Maybe something that can help me win her over?" "Welp, my lady's been gone for some years now -- and I haven't put myself back on the market -- so I don't know if I can tell you anything that matters these days. Buuut I do know one thing about women that never changes" "What?" "Women looove money." "That's not only sexist, but it's irrelevant, because I have plenty of money."

"Okay. You look good. You say you have money. So, then my only conclusion is, you must have a serious personality problem." "No. I'm a very nice person. At least that's what I think." "There's your problem. You're too nice." "How's that a problem?" "Don't you know? The ladies love the bad boys." "I don't know about that." "They do. Try it out. Buy a motorcycle or something. Or if you can't afford that get a button up shirt and don't even bother to button it up. Just be like, 'Yee, I don't need these buttons. I'm too sexy for these buttons. No. Can't hold me down, buttons. Get outta here, you goddamn buttons." "Er, and how does not buttoning up my shirt make me a bad boy?" "It's rebellion. You're rebelling against the constraints of your clothes, and the fashion industry. You're going like, 'I don't follow your rules, man. I make my own, bitch. I don't give a rat's ass how hard those Vietnamese workers worked to sew my clothes. M-mm, don't hold me back, don't hold me back, sucka." "Right. Okay. Let's say I do do that, and somehow, through some insane reasoning, she becomes attracted to me -- heels over head -- wouldn't I still be living a lie?" "What's your point?" "Eventually she'd find out and expose me for the phoney I am, then we'd break up, and be worse off than when we started. What's the point of pretending you're something you're not if it won't even last?" "Whatever the case is: It's up to you." The next day came. While Donnie wasn't feeling as happy as he could be, he did in fact feel much better. He woke up quite spry, after having a dream in which he and Kate shared a kiss. After doing all the things one would do in the morning, Donnie put on his shoes and took Hoser (his dalmatian) out for a stroll around the street. Like usual he used this as thinking time. "Maybe things aren't bad as I think they are," Donnie said, thinking aloud. "I am in good health. I'm fairly young. I have plenty of money. And I'm giving back to society. I should be pretty proud of myself, right? Plus, I don't think things with Kate are as bad as they seem. Okay. Maybe she doesn't always please me, but I still love her, and love conquers all, right? Right, Hoser? Right?" Hoser simply barked. Soon Donnie and his companion finished their walk. But before heading home, Donnie thought that he should pay his other best friend a visit, and so he went over to Teddy's place. He rang the door bell, eager to show off his dalmatian. Ding dong! When there was no answer he tried again. "He should be up at this hour," said Donnie. "I think." He looked at his watch. "It's almost nine." Hoser scratched at the door with his paws and barked wildly.

Donnie reigned him in. "Easy now, boy. Easy. I'm sure he's just overslept -although that would be unusual for someone with insomnia." As he was about to turn away he had the thought, "Maybe I should check in on him?" He looked under the welcome mat and found a key, which he used it to open the front door. He then stepped inside with Hoser. It was dark . No lights were on, and all the blinds were drawn down. "Teddy," said Donnie, "you in here? Sorry about intruding. I was just wondering what you're up to. Teddy?" Silence. Donnie felt himself being pulled by Hoser in the direction of the staircase. "What's the matter with you?" said Donnie. Hoser barked, and barked, and kept on pulling. "Alright, hold your horses," said Donnie. The two, by Hoser's beckoning, went upstairs. Hoser excitedly took Donnie over to the bathroom. Hoser like before scratched on the door using his paws. "Okay, okay, calm down," said Donnie. "Sit!" Hoser sat, despite never being taught to do so. "Wow, that worked a charm," said Donnie. Donnie knocked on the bathroom door. Knock-knock! "Teddy, you taking a crap in there or what?" Donnie looked down and noticed a pool of water at his feet. "What in the world?" he said. And he took it upon himself to charge through the door. He nearly slid as he went inside, where there was sunlight filtering through the blinds, casting bars upon the porcelain colored bathtub. Teddy was in there, floating, with eyes closed. His skin appeared as pale as snow. Donnie froze, trying to make heads and tails of the matter. When he saw an empty bottle of pills on the tiled floor he knew what had happened. He quickly took Teddy out of the tub, and laid him down down to do CPR. As he remembered it: Place two hands on the center of the chest, just between the nipples, and push down two inches at a rapid rate of one hundred times per minute. But it did not help. All that came was blood, pouring from Teddy's mouth. "Come on, damn it," Donnie said whilst trying to contain his tears. And then he stopped realizing he was doing nothing. He called 9-1-1 and awaited an ambulance. He stood against the wall, leaning for support. As he dried his tears, leaning his head, he noticed a neatly folded piece of paper on the sink. He reluctantly picked it up and saw what was on it: a smiley face. Chapter 25: Another Funeral With a little over two hundred and fifty people in attendance, the funeral home was teeming with life. While most came from over the firehouse, many were acquaintances of Donnie. Donnie, who for this day wore his best suit, had the jitters like never before. He stood nervously behind the podium, despite being used to easily addressing crowds three or many times larger. The difficulty laid mainly in summing up an entire person's life experiences in five minutes or less, and making it adequately moving.

The eulogy began. Donnie cleared his throat. "Theodore V. Truman... What can be said about a man, so near and so dear to each and every one us? How can anyone sum up his entire life in a matter of minutes? Well, to be perfectly honest, it can't be done. Every aspect of my best friend, who is now gone, is not an insignificant thing, and leaving out any part would not give you a full of scope of who he was. But for the sake of brevity, I shall tell you about the strongest trait that Teddy ever had: his kindness. "When I was nine years old I took a shortcut through an alleyway. Stupidly. I ran into a group of bullies, and they cowardly beat the stuffing out of me. They stole my new shoes, my jacket, and even my backpack. But despite them, I got to school. That was the day when I met Teddy for the first time. It was recess and I had no friends at all. I was sitting around looking like crap, and he came up to me, and asked me why I was bruised up. I told him my story, and without hesitation he gave me his jacket, his gym shoes, and his lunch -- just to make me feel better. To this day I haven't paid him back for what he did." Donnie went on for a half hour more, telling all his favorite stories about Teddy, and by the end of it there wasn't a single dry in the funeral home. After everyone had their say about the man they once knew, they gathered outside to share in their grief. Donnie went to say "hello" to Teddy's father, Mr. Truman, who looked extraordinarily beat-up for a man in his 50s. Maybe it was all the grieving. Mr. Truman wiped his tears. "I'm so sorry about crying," he said. "It's alright," said Donnie. "If there's a time to cry it's now." "It's not alright," said Mr. Truman. "I should be acting like a man." "Anyway, Mr. Truman, I just wanted to let you know that I'm covering all the expenses of the funeral, and if you need anything else I can help you out." "You've done more than enough, Donnie." "Thank you, Mr. Truman, but I think this is the least I could do." "Good God, I feel so sick right now." "Should I call a doctor?" "No. It's not that type of sickness. I feel sick, because I miss my son." "Oh." "To tell you truth, Donnie -- me and Teddy didn't really get along so good. But I always had hope for that boy. If he just lived a bit longer, I'm sure he coulda found a beautiful wife, and had a family. But now that's never gonna happen. God thought it was too much to ask for. Is it too much?" "It's not too much at all, Mr. Truman." "Ah, you're a good man, Donnie." As Mr. Truman continued talking, Donnie became distracted when he saw something in the corner of his eye. Kate was walking down the sidewalk, along the building, holding hands with a man in a long black coat. "I'm sorry," said Donnie to Mr. Truman. "Would you excuse me for a moment?" Then Donnie left Mr. Truman, and went over to meet Kate and her (maybe) male friend. "Evening, Kate," said Donnie. His voice was icy. "How nice of you to come. I see you brought a friend."

Kate stood on her tippy-toes and whispered into her friend's ear. When he had heard what she had said, he kissed her on the cheek, and replied, "I'll be in my car, babe," before going away. Now it was just Kate and Donnie, at least in this small space they occupied. Donnie crossed his arms. "So," said Kate, "guess I missed the funeral, huh?" "I made a very touching speech," Donnie said irritably, still thinking about the man, who had just kissed Kate. "Yeah?" said Kate. "Yeah." "Donnie. I have to tell you something --" "Great. I have something to tell you too." "Can I go first?" "Considering what I've been through, maybe I should begin? I need to get some things off my chest." "Go on." "Kate, as you know my visit to this city hasn't exactly been stellar. Much less than stellar in fact. But there is one bright spot in my life." "And what is that?" Donnie took in a breath. "You," he said. "I'm, I'm flattered," said Kate. "I was thinking. Maybe I could move into the mansion with you? What do you think about that?" "It's your own place, Donnie. You can do what you want. Or why don't you buy a new one? You're pretty rich, aren't you?" "That's not the point, Kate." "Well, if you're moving in, I'm moving out." "And where're you gonna go? Is your career as a 'dancer' really that great?" "Don't do those air-quotes to me. Okay? I have a new job now." "Oh, congratulations. I hope it's much better than the last." "It's an improvement." "Anyways, about me moving in --" "I don't think it's a good idea." "And why not?" "It just isn't. Trust me." The move was almost complete. There was one last item that needed to be hauled inside. George, helping Donnie, went into the back of the white van and pulled out a rusty lime green bicycle. "Where should I put this hunk of junk?" said George. "That is not a hunk of junk," said Donnie. "That's my old bicycle from when I was a kid." "It's a bit big for a kid, isn't it?" "I tended to hover over the seat." Donnie looked at his bicycle.

"Man," he said, "I can't believe Teddy kept it for all this time though. Almost twenty years. I'd ride it if the tires weren't obviously flat." "They aren't," said George. Donnie went over to his bicycle and poked the front tire, which was springy and firm. "Oh," he said. "You're right. It still has an air it." "Care to take it for a spin then?" said George. "I can't," said Donnie. "I haven't ridden a bike since -- a really long time." "Haven't you heard the saying, 'You never forget how to ride a bike?'" "Nah." "C'maaaaan." "I'll fall down and look like an idiot, I bet." "C'maaaan." "George, that didn't work the first time. You're aware of that, right?" "Okay, never mind. Open the garage, would you?" Donnie went into his pocket and retrieved a remote control. He pressed the big blue button in middle and made one of many garage doors open. George wheeled in the bicycle, then a moment later he and Donnie were headed into the mansion. When they got to the kitchen for snacks and drinks, Donnie noticed that the answering machine nearby was flashing red. However, he did not pay it any mind. He first served his helpful guest. George drank his OJ and went "aaaah." "I really appreciate the help," said Donnie. "I know I could've hired some people, but, well, I don't really trust the movers in this city." "Ah, no problem," said George. "That's what friends are for." "Yeah," said Donnie. "Friends." "By the way, could you do me a favor?" "Sure." "Answer your answering machine please. That flashing light's giving me a headache." "But it's not my answering machine." "So, you can't do me a favor?" "Alright, I'll answer it. I don't even know why it's flashing. What a stupid design." Donnie went over to the answering machine. He saw on the lighted screen there was a single message. So, he pressed play to let the cassette tape roll. "Beep!" it went, and then someone's voice sounded through the speaker. It was Xavier. "Hey, Kate. I'm just calling to let you know that you left your earrings at my place last night. Call me back -- you know the number -- I'll drop it off when you're not busy. Okay, cutie, see you later!" "Hey, Donnie," said George, "you alright?" Donnie was grimacing and had his hands tightly clenched. "Donnie?" said George. Donnie turned around. "Do you know who Aaron Xavier Junior is?" he said. "Who doesn't?" said George.

"I'd like to pay him a visit," said Donnie. "That's great. What for?" "I'm going to egg his house -- and you're coming with me." "Um, what? Why?" "I don't like him, that's what." "Okay. Let's put aside the fact that this is completely juvenile and insane. Do you really expect me, a teacher, to egg someone's home? For god-sake, I'm a role-model. Teenagers and young adults look to me for guidance. What would happen if I got caught? "I'll make it worth your while." "With what?" "I hear your school is in need of new furniture, and you know my charity helps more than just homeless people." "Alright, fine. I'll do it. But I have a concern. Isn't Aaron Xavier Junior's place fortified like a castle?" "You let me handle that." "I've never been in a helicopter before!" said George. "Also, don't you think this is a bit extreme?" "Lighten up, George," said Donnie. "Relax. Enjoy the view." The helicopter pilot banked left and hovered over Xavier's mansion, which was even larger than Donnie's place. "Quick," said Donnie. "Get the eggs!" Donnie opened the helicopter door. George handed him a box of a dozen large eggs. Donnie took them and dropped them down. They landed haphazardly, on the roof, on the lawn, and all over the pavement. "Wah! Bombs away!" Donnie laughed. The security guards below finally looked up. "Oh, God!" said Donnie. "Ha-ha-ha! We've been spotted!" He gestured at the uneasy pilot, who was trying to keep his aircraft steady. "Go! Go! Go!" he was instructed. So, the helicopter retreated a-s-a-p, and George held his stomach, feeling queasy from the motion, meanwhile Donnie made a half-hearted attempt to control his laughter. There was a lot of laughter. Chapter 26: Settling In In the middle of the floor sat a piece of dog turd. Donnie retrieved a plastic bag from the kitchen and picked it up. As he was about to tie a knot, Kate came down the stairs, and saw what he was doing. She immediately scrunched her nose. "Oh, God," she said. "Why don't you keep that dog outside?" "I do," said Donnie, who had his head tilted away, trying to avoid the fumes of Hoser's "present." "I don't understand," said Kate, "why don't you hire a butler, or a cleaner, or something. Why waste your time?" "I don't want to spoil myself." "I thought you had a butler back home."

"That was different. I had to entertain people for business." "...Donnie, you're holding a piece of poop, and you don't want any help?" "You can help me." "I'm busy. I have a job." "And what do you do in this job exactly?" "I'm a model." "What type of model?" "Nothing smutty, Donnie. It's simply a stepping stone for my career." "Alright." "By the way, did you hear what happened to Xavier's home?" Donnie faked a look of surprise. "Uh, oh, something happened to his home?" "Aaron told me some kids egged his house," said Kate. "Can you believe that? What a waste of perfectly good food. God, people are so dumb sometimes. What sort of idiot thinks that's funny?" "I totally agree with you." "Anyway, I have to go. Don't let the dog on the sofa, okay?" Kate put the strap of her purse over her shoulder and exited the mansion, leaving Donnie to his own devices. The sound of the doorbell awoke Donnie from his 12:04 PM nap. He rose to his feet and jogged to the front entrance. He was greeted by USPS, a man in blue clothing, holding a brown package. "Hullo," said Boris. He presented a clipboard with a pen attached. "Sign on 'x' please, stating you received package." "You postal workers come at the oddest hours," said Donnie. "Do you really think most people are even home at noon?" "I'm not make the rules," said Boris. "Okay," said Donnie, "I understand." "In Russia there is no mail delivering." "Huh? "If you want delivering you must get on horse and go there on own." "Right. Thanks for the delivery." Donnie finished signing for his package. He shut the door (one of two) and took it into the living room, where he could set it down on the coffee table. "I wonder what it is?" he thought aloud. He retrieved a pair of scissors and sliced the tape down the middle. When the flaps popped up the contents inside were revealed. There was a videocassette, a slightly bulging envelope, and a note. "Donnie, my boy," read the note. "I enjoyed that little prank you pulled the other day -- so, I pulled one of my own. I hope you like it." At the bottom was Xavier's signature. Donnie got up and put the videocassette into the VCR, which was labeled "A Day in the Life of." He turned on the television, flipped to channel 4, and pressed play. Some static came up, and then there was a picture. A camera from far away zoomed in. When Kate's face appeared a dashing, dark haired man came into frame. Feisty he was he grabbed her by the waist, and felt her

breasts, and thighs, bottom, and anywhere that he could get his hands to. And he kissed her on her cheeks, lips, neck, and whatever he pleased, with an equally fiery, sultry passion. Donnie though disturbed could only continue to watch. Having trouble breathing he sat down on his coffee table. "Mmm," said Kate while French kissing on the tele. "Your kisses are so wet." She twirled her tongue. "Who is that!?" Donnie growled. He turned up the volume, and sat for a time that felt like days, watching everything else that there was: All the exchange of fluids, all the people, all the touching of every type that did not care to restrict itself to a single location. But while everything else that there was was equally as disturbing to Donnie as the very first part, the worst part it seemed came at the end, in which Xavier revealed himself as the surreptitious cameraman. He turned the camera lens to his own face and grinned. Mockery at its finest. Donnie got up, ejected the videocassette from his VCR, and calmly placed it atop his TV set. He tapped his fingers for a moment, then went back to the coffee table and picked up the envelope that was included in his brown box. He opened it up to find photographs -- photographs of Kate, seductively dressed (chest out, legs bare), once more being intimate, even more so than what was shown on video. In addition to the men there were somehow also some females. "What is this!?" said Donnie. Then suddenly a violent, guttural sound came from his body (which sounded like "Ughuh!") and he ripped up the photos in his hand and threw the pieces everywhere. Then he took the videocassette and snapped it in two. He kicked over his coffee table, and started pounding the cushions of his couch. He screamed. He yelled. He cried and collapsed. He sobbed uncontrollably into his own arms. While he knew worse could happen in his life this to him had devastated him to his core. He always had the hope that Kate would be the one for him. His little angel. Now it was gone, and he didn't know what else to hope for. So, exhausted, he went up to his room and went to bed. Two solid hours went by when he woke up from a nightmare. Donnie ambled to his dresser and looked at his blood shot eyes in the mirror. He rubbed them, then shook his head. The images of Kate were still swimming in his head -- and he was drowning. They probably would never ever go away. Donnie hunched, barely able to hold himself up. "Come on," he said, trying to give himself a pep talk. "There's no use sulking and being upset. It doesn't do any good. Snap out of it. You're blowing this out of proportion. Be a man. Men don't cry. Crying is for women. Now, chin up, and keep a stiff upper lip. Do something with yourself!" Donnie went out for a long walk with Hoser. Though it didn't make him forget what he'd seen at least he was getting some exercise. And so, he went along the roads, and sidewalks (where available), whilst trying avoiding the seedy areas of the city -- which proved more difficult than he imagined.

Ahead, on Foster Road, was a gathering of many angry people. They were holding up protest signs (aka placards), and shouting at the top of their lungs. There was also a bit of chanting as well. Donnie looked at Hoser's big black eyes. "Should we turn back?" When the dog did nothing to say otherwise, Donnie took this as a cue and went ahead. Wanting to satiate his curiosity he maneuvered through the crowd and stuck out his head. He asked the fellow next to him, wearing a cap backwards, what was going on. "What's going on here?" said Donnie. "Brother, how long you been here?" said Curtis. "We protesting the clinic, can't you see?" "Why? What is it? An abortion clinic?" "Much worse than that, brother." "What could be worse than an abortion clinic? Not that I think there's anything wrong with that. I mean I do and I don't. I mean, I'm not morally against it, but I think it should still be legal. Is that paradoxical?" "Stop asking silly questions, fool. Grab a sign and help out." Curtis put a cardboard sign in Donnie's hand that read: "Hell no! We won't go!" Donnie carried the sign, and pulled along Hoser. The two went to the front of the crowd, where it was the loudest. The people there were pumping their signs and stamping their feet. They were causing trouble, but nothing yet violent. At this juncture a lady in a long white coat came out of the building that was surrounded by the protestors. "Don't you people have anything better to do?" she said Donnie took this time to glance at the sign above. He thought the name curious as it gave no hints indicating what it did. It was merrily called "The Sunshine Clinic." "The Sunshine Clinic," Donnie repeated to himself. Then he went to talk to the lady in the long coat, who he presumed was a doctor or some sort of medical practitioner. "Excuse me," said Donnie, as loudly as he could without yelling. "Could I ask you a question, uh, besides this one?" "Alright, hurry up though," Dr. Rose said in return. "I'm losing my cool with all this bloody noise." "I'm not clear why these people are here. I mean I know they're protesting -- but what's the reason? What exactly is your clinic doing?" "Cosmetic surgery." "Okay. I don't get it. That's a problem, because?" "It's not exactly traditional." "In what way?" "You can go beyond the norms of traditional surgery. Actually, I'm not really sure you can even call it surgery. It's more of a transformational process." "And what does that mean?" "Your body can be changed at the cellular level." "Dumb it down would you?" "You can change your whole body. Your nose, your hair, your skin -- literally everything." "What does that really mean?"

"Um, how should I put this? ...You can change your race." "What?" "The procedures we do at this clinic change you racially. As an example, if you'd like to turn Japanese you could do that." "Suddenly this protest makes sense." "You're not going to join, are you? You don't really look like their type." "No, but I might consider it." "Seriously, it's not as bad as it sounds. There are plenty good reasons to do such a thing." "Like?" "Money." "For the patient?" "Vanity? Or maybe you feel like you're in the wrong body." "Isn't that a mental issue? Shouldn't that be addressed through psychiatric therapy?" "Probably." "So there isn't a good reason to do this? Is there?" Dr. Rose handed her business card to Donnie. "I can't answer all your questions now, but if you ever change our mind," she said, "pay me a visit." Then she retreated into her clinic before a tomato could hit her head. The homeless shelter was all fixed up. Many thought it looked even better than before the occurrence of the fire. Well, Donnie and Pearl thought so, and especially the mayor of the city, Franklin "Frank" Ford. Frank Ford, quite the jolly character, put his arm around Donnie's shoulder as he smiled for the cameras. For the grand reopening of the Underwood Temporary Residence Center, the two used a pair of scissors to cut an orange ribbon (signifying the tail end of a Phoenix -- a mythical creature, a bird that dies in flame, and is reborn from its own ashes). When the ceremony was over, Donnie, Frank Ford, and Pearl took a break in the cafeteria. They sat around a table shooting the breeze. Frank was very interested in Donnie, a man who was even wealthier than he. "I have a question for you," said Frank, "but --" "Go on," said Donnie. "What's it like being rich?" said Frank. "Cheeky, this one," said Pearl. "I don't mean to offend anyone," said Frank. "I'm jus' a curious person by nature. That's why I entered politics. Humans really intrigue me." "Don't worry," said Donnie. "It's not offensive. I don't take money personally -- I have other people do that for me." "Heyooo!" said Frank. He adjusted his tie. "Now about that question?" "Uhm, what's it like being rich?" said Donnie. "Well...it's nice. You don't have to worry about anything, except people using you." "And that happens a lot?" said Frank.

"When I was younger, yes," said Donnie. "But now I've got a good handle on it. I consider myself a good judge of character. I can tell when someone's only using me for my money." "Ooh, that's rich," said Pearl. "What's that mean?" said Donnie. "I'm saying," said Pearl, "that you're not a good judge of character." "I'd like to think so," said Donnie. "What about your little blonde friend?" said Pearl. "You don't think she's using you. For godsake, you bought a mansion so she could live in it." "I'm living in there, too," said Donnie. "Plus, she doesn't own it. That's my property. That's my investment. And I think the real estate market here is going to turn around some time soon." "I think the whole deal's shady," said Pearl. "You're clearly being used and you don't see it. She's a gold digger." "You take that back," said Donnie. "I'm not taking it back," said Pearl. Donnie didn't know how to respond. "Look," said Pearl. "I know it's hard to admit that someone only likes you for the wrong things. You want to think they only like you for you -- but that simply is not the case here. So, if you please, could you stop being like one of those pretty headed people, who genuinely believes everyone's only interested in their personality? Face the facts. Let go of your ego. Your woman is interested in your wallet more than you. Kate Witman is the definition of gold digger and that's not even her worst quality." "OH, PISS OFF, PEARL!" Donnie yelled abruptly. "She is not a gold digger! You're just jealous because you're ugly!" Pearl was taken aback. Frank as well. "Um, um, um, uh I apologize for the outburst," Donnie said a moment later. "I need to get some fresh air. Would you two mind?" Pearl and Frank shook their heads at the same time. Donnie left the homeless shelter, and shamefully went outside. He pressed his forehead while thinking, "What in the hell was I thinking?" He wandered aimlessly while ruminating about what happened, and somehow ended up at the Quickie Convenience store. He went in, hungering for junk food. After the chimes of the door sounded Muhammad the clerk, who was sweeping diligently, briefly lifted his head. But only briefly. Donnie went to the back per usual and browsed the "food" available. He went over to the magazine section and started reading the magazines, partly in an attempt to annoy the clerk, who he had interacted with before. "Hey, this is not a library," Muhammad said right away. "Please put down that copy of -- 'Knitting Monthly' magazine?" Embarrassed, Donnie put it away. He hadn't even realized. "Wait a minute, I've seen you before," said Muhammad. "Haven't I?" "You recognize my face?" said Donnie. "Aah, you came in here and bought a chocolate bar. And you thought I was my uncle Harold." "I can't believe you remember."

"Aah, I have a superior memory. If you had chatted to me more, maybe you would've found that I have PHD in Gender and Women's Studies." "I would've never guessed." "Why? Because I'm a man? Men can't learn about women, hm?" "Uh --" "I'm kidding. I'm pulling your leg." "Right. I knew that." Muhammad nodded. "So, uh, Gender and Women's Studies," said Donnie. "What's that all about?" "No one's ever asked me that before," said Muhammad. "First time for everything," said Donnie. Muhammad stroked his beard. "Gender and Women's Studies," he said slowly, whilst thinking, "is about -- I would say -- understanding women, and what they are. It is about understanding their roles in society, their contributions, the limitations that gender places upon them, and how it affects each and every one of us. I suppose that you can call this feminism." "Those feminists, huh!" "I actually consider myself to be a feminist." "I didn't know a man could be a feminist." "Any man can be a feminist, if you want it." "Uh, sure." "You know what I think about feminism these days though?" "Why don't you tell me?" "I feel like there is a schism going on. See, back in the day it was just the suffragist movement, women trying to get a vote. That was feminism. Now feminism means many things to many people, and there are so many different types of feminists. But the first, and main one, is what I am. It's the true feminist, the feminist who is concerned about gender equality, the opportunities available to women, the freedom to make your own choices, and everyone working together to make the world a better place for the both males and females. We care about intelligence, working hard, and proving that the fairer sex is not just the fairer sex, and that we are worth our weight in salt, and as good as any man, or any person. We want to level the playing field, to make women feel good about themselves, and feel that they can do anything that they set their minds to." "Alright, sounds good. What about the others?" "Hold on, I have a list." Muhammad went into his pocket and took out a list. This was Muhammad's list, which he read aloud: The Five Types of Feminism and Feminists by Mr. Muhammad 1. The Balanced Feminist - Is interested in gender equality, fairness, freedom, opportunities for everyone, truth, justice, and levelheadedness. 2. The Man Haters - The opposite of the "balanced feminist," they don't care about equality. They only care what's in it for women. They have double standards and they think all men are evil. 3. The Mimickers - They're always comparing themselves to men. They use males as a gold standard, and don't appreciate the aspects of females that make

us unique. To them feminism is only a type of catch up game. 4. The Hypersexuals - These ones are only interested in the sexual part of feminism and nothing else, and to them the sex bit is the crux of feminism. But most of the time they're only using feminism as an excuse for their lewd behaviour, lack of clothing, and promiscuity. Often they're heard to be saying, "Stop the slut shaming!" But what's wrong with moderation and having a sense of decorum? With all the diseases floating out there in the world, and the chances of unwanted pregnancy, having temperance is only for your own good. And furthermore is a little shame, a little bit of humility, really so terrible? And I have to ask, why do you guys admire people like Marilyn Monroe and Audrey Hepburn? Why does anyone? They're not great role models. (Hey, I have an idea. How about admiring someone who's not an entertainer for once, someone who's actually done something for society, like a Nobel Laureate? Is it no longer cool to have a Marie Curie poster on your wall? Do we not care to look up to the wrinkly, old face of Mother Teresa?) 5. The Proper Ladies - Very closely related to the "balanced feminist" but with one key difference... They do not have respect for individual freedoms, a woman's right to choose or not choose. They tell you how you should dress, how you should act, how you should do this and that. They are more interested in the homogenized movement that is feminism, rather than what is necessarily right for the individual. But of course ultimately everything comes down to the individual. "Now," said Muhammad, "each of these has their own agenda, some may be misguided, but ultimately we have to --" "Wait, wait a minute," said Donnie. "You forgot something." "What's that?" said Muhammad. "What about the male feminist, like yourself?" "My friend there is no separation by gender." "No, you can't add it?" "No, That would double the amount on my list. And unless you are Naomi Wolf, or a PHD like myself, I cannot take your advice." "But I have an MBA. Doesn't that count for something?" "Maybe you would know about the imbalance between male and female salaries, but other than that, no, your input is not needed on these issues." "Okay. I'm sorry for trying to think." Muhammad continued. "You know what form of feminism annoys the most though?" said Muhammad. Donnie didn't respond. "It's the man hating one," said Muhammad. "More than anything. What bothers me is they always accuse men of being sexist, yet they are the ones being sexist. Saying someone is sexist only because of their gender is in itself sexist. It's like those black people, who say white people are racist just because they're white -- I mean it's usually true -- but still that is racist." "Right," said Donnie.

"These men haters," said Muhammad, "they claim to be fighters for the rights of women, and equality, yet they are not doing anything positive by dividing us. They are taking us in a backwards direction." Muhammad continued his pontificating. "Hmph, isn't it weird how that works? The people who claim to be something are always the least of what they claim to be." "Right," said Donnie. Muhammad stared at Donnie, trying to suss out how he'd done as an arguer/debater/PHD. Donnie could only force an uncomfortable smile. "You in a bad mood?" said Muhammad. "I'm smiling," said Donnie, "aren't I?" "It is a fake a smile," said Muhammad. "How can you tell?" said Donnie, who thought himself to be decent at acting. "Because I also studied psychology in university," said Muhammad. "Knowing body language can be quite useful in the retail world, though I didn't go to university to end up in retail." "Right, but -- maybe I shouldn't be asking this -- what exactly gave me away?" "Three things. Number one, the eyes. Your eyes must smile with your lips to be a real smile. Number two, the motion of your head. Your head moves quite a bit when you smile. When you're faking a smile you stay more stiff. And finally, number three, the cheeks. Your cheeks lift up when you are being sincere." "Hm. Seems so obvious now that you told me. So, what other tricks do you know?" "I can tell what someone is going to buy, based on the time of day, their clothes, and general energy level." "And what am I going to buy?" "You're very well dressed, but your energy is a bit low, especially for the hour. And your shoulders are slumped yet not relaxed. You are probably feeling extra crappy today, so I think you will want something classic, something that you ate as a child. I'm thinking a Coke and some sweets. Am I far off?" "Close enough. I was thinking of buying some 'Big League Chew.' But should I really be rewarding myself?" "Why? What makes say that? Feeling guilty about something? That's it, isn't is?" "Yeah. I yelled at someone that I sort of care about. My employee, but my friend as well." "And why did you yell at her?" "I'm having trouble with --" "Yes?" "Should I really be telling a convenience store clerk about my personal life?" "I'm a doctor. I'm not any normal idiot. I know about these things." "You're a doctor in a convenience store." "Don't be a snob." "Right. I'm having trouble with -- a woman." "Ah, romantic problems. She's been treating you poorly lately?" "Not in a manner I'd like." "Does she know how you feel?" "I haven't said the L-word yet."

"Then that's what you have to do, my friend. Confess your feelings. Let her know." "I'm not so sure." "Maybe she loves you too, but she's waiting for you to say it first. You have to take that risk. Put yourself out there, and pour out your heart. Buy her flowers, get down on your knee, and say, 'Je t'aime.'" "Is that French?" "Yes." "Nice... But anyway, I still think it's a bad idea. What if I scare her off?" "And what if you don't? What if you tell her that you love her, and she leaps into your arms, and returns everything that you feel for her. Are you telling me you'd rather stay quiet and say nothing?" "Maybe you're right. I should take action and be a man." "I agree: 100%." "Umm, so, how exactly do I do this?" "With flowers!" Muhammad grabbed two dozen flowers, the most expensive type, and placed them in Donnie's arms. "Isn't a single dozen usually traditional?" said Donnie. "Don't cheap out now," said Muhammad. "This is it, this is when your life is going to turn around. Now go out there and get your woman!" "Yeah!" said Donnie. And he paid for his flowers and left the store with a great enthusiasm -- while Muhammad grinned at another profitable sale. Chapter 27: Confession The day was late yet Donnie was still full of energy. Carrying his flowers in his arms he rushed into the mansion enthusiastically. "Kate!" he called out. He looked about the first floor, then, upon not finding her, hastily went upstairs. He went down the hallway and stopped outside Kate's bedroom. As he was about to knock on the door to let himself in he suddenly got the jitters. He cleared his throat and talked aloud, in a quiet voice, thinking last minute what exactly he should say to the woman he loved. "Kate," he said, pretending she was there, "we've known each other for a very long time -- at least it feels that way -- and I know we haven't always gotten along, but I want to tell you something very important. You... You... You... Goddamnit! I'm not even face to face and I'm losing my cool. I need to practice in front of a mirror." So, Donnie continued down the hallway. He came to the door of the closest bathroom and reached out his hand. He found it was locked, the doorknob could not turn. Reflexively he knocked. "Kate, you in there?" A man's voice answered. "I'll be out in a minute!" Donnie began to panic "Who is that?" he thought. But the man whose voice answered came out, and he was relieved. "John!" said Donnie. "What're you doing here?"

"Master Donnie," said John (John who was Donnie's old butler from back home), "I heard you were having a crisis, so I came here as quick as possible. I had a feeling that this move would be too much for you." "Who told you that?" said Donnie. "Your girlfriend, Miss Witman. She said it was an emergency. Teddy passed away and you had difficulty handling yourself." "Kate told you she was my girlfriend?" "No, I deduced. She is living here after all. Is she not your girlfriend?" "It's complicated." "Regardless, I'm staying to help. I think this place is much too large to manage on your own. That is my honest opinion." "John, I didn't come to this city to be -- you know what? Never mind. Could you do me a favor?" "Of course." "Could you make yourself scarce? Please don't ask why. If it doesn't work out, I don't want you to see me." "Will any hour be sufficient?" "That would be great." John left without hesitation, and, now alone, Donnie practiced what he'd say to Kate in the bathroom mirror. It wasn't the greatest thing ever, since he wasn't a writer, but it did express all his feelings. And right after that he returned to outside of Kate's room. He took in a deep breath and raised his arm, about to knock -- but then something caught his ear. A strange noise was coming from within. Donnie leaned forward and pressed his ear against the door. It sounded like whimpering or someone was getting hurt. "No," Donnie whispered. "It can't be -- my sweetie pie." He pulled away and shook like a leaf. Then he slowly opened the door, so that he could see only through a crack. He shuddered at what he saw, and what he had heard. Sweat broke out on his forehead. Kate was on all fours, moaning, while another man was behind her. Donnie, in his shock, stumbled back into the rear wall. Despite his complexion, his face turned as red as his eyes. And his body began convulsing. His mouth went dry, agape, while trying to comprehend what he had witnessed. He could not believe it. Shortly before this point he actually thought that his "sweetie pie" Kate might actually be a virgin -- and not the Christian kind, which uses loopholes to get off. Suddenly the man who had had Kate came out of her bedroom. Garrett saw Donnie, standing there frozen. He buttoned up the top of his shirt and gave a wide grin. Then then he left, disappearing down the hallway. Donnie dropped his flowers to the floor. A good time went by since that horrible day in which Donnie had his illusions about Kate shattered. However, he still had many deep feelings for her, and could not extricate the damning images of the woman and all that she had done. Every now and then something would remind him of her, and all the men she'd kissed and touched her, inside and out, and he'd become upset and even cry.

To remedy this situation he took up cigarette smoking, a habit he thought he once destroyed. Today he stood outside, under the mansion's portico, smoking his cancer sticks in the rain. He had already gone through an entire pack. As he stared out, watching cars pass by in the distance, he saw Kate coming toward him -- or rather their mansion. "Hello, Kate," said Donnie. "I see you're looking well." Kate smiled. "I just came back from an audition. "That's great," said Donnie. "I got the part!" said Kate. "Congratulations. Are you playing the tramp?" "What?" "Like in the 'Lady and the Tramp.'" "Have you even been paying attention to what I'm doing?" "I've been busy." "Smoking, huh?" Donnie looked at Kate's chest, which was exposed by her low cut shirt. Peculiar, there was bold writing on it in black marker. "What's that on your chest?" said Donnie. "Oh," said Kate, covering up, "I celebrated afterward." "Let me see it," said Donnie. Kate revealed the message on her chest that read: "Be Yourself." Donnie was disgusted by the flagrant idea of someone touching Kate's chest, but he stayed calm and was curious. "Why would someone write that?" he said. "Um, well, in show business people change themselves to please others," Kate explained. "So, he was telling me to stay true to myself, I guess." "I didn't ask about the message," said Donnie. "I know what it means -- and I think it's stupid. Like you can actually become someone else. Oh, look at me, I think I'll be Henry Kissinger for the day!" "Yeah --" "I meant, why would you let someone do that to you? Write on your chest? Hmm? Did it give you a good laugh? Is that something good girls do? I mean really." "It's just a stupid game, Donnie. That's all... Now, are you going to congratulate me on my success or what?" "I already did." "Well, then. Let's make it official. Why don't we celebrate together? I'll get the butler to fetch us some wine." "His name is John." "Right. We'll get John to get us some wine." "I'm not in the mood to celebrate, but if we did, then I could just get some wine from the wine cellar." "We have a wine cellar?" "It was hidden under the rug. I guess the previous owner was hiding an alcohol problem." "So, then let's have a bottle together, huh? To celebrate my audition." "Please, Kate, I --"

"Come on! Come on, Donnie! You're my nearest and dearest friend. I want to celebrate with you." Donnie's heart brightened at hearing upon he was Kate's nearest and dearest friend. "Alright," he said, "we'll celebrate. But go take a shower and change into some new clothes please. Let's make it classy for once." Copious amounts of wine later, and Donnie, and Kate were laughing together in the garden behind their mansion. As the sun went down they sat around the table, close enough to each other to be considered as one. And the celebrating was going well. But then alcohol has an effect on not only laughter, but truth as well. When there was some quiet, Donnie decided to drop the bomb. He cleared his throat, and looked Kate straight in the eyes, holding her attention as he could. "Kate," he said, softly. "I have something to tell you." "Oh, what is it?" said Kate. "Kate," said Donnie. He took in a deep breath. "I love you." "Huh? Love me how? As a friend?" "More than that." "I see." "And how do you feel about me?" "Truthfully?" "Please." "I don't love you --" Donnie felt like the wind was knocked out of him, yet he stayed seated, continuing listening to Kate like everything was fine. "I'm truly, truly sorry," said Kate. "I just don't share your feelings. I care for you, but not in the way you care for me." Donnie became desperate. "Can you at least give it a chance?" he said. "Boyfriend and girlfriend doesn't have to be serious. It's not like marriage. We could get into a relationship and see where things go. Huh? What, what do you think about that?" "I'd rather not," said Kate. "Why?" said Donnie. "What's wrong with me?" "Well --" "I give you everything you want. I let you live in my home. I say nice things to you. I'm attractive. I'm in good shape. I don't have hygiene problems. I'm smart and I'm hard working. What more can anyone ask for?" "Donnie, please. Let's give it a rest." "NO! I want to know! What's wrong with me, Kate?! Answer me! You owe me that at the very least!" "I feel like I should leave." "Just answer me! Please. I'm begging you." "Alright. Fine. Here's the truth. You're not my type. That's why I don't want to get into a relationship with you. Okay?" "That's kinda vague. Could you clarify?"

"I don't like... I don't like..." "You don't like what?" "I don't like black people." "What?" "I mean that in the romantic sense. I'm not physically attracted to black people." "Why? What's wrong with black people? Physically?" "They don't turn me on, that's all, and because of that I don't want to date them." "Isn't that kind of racist?" "How is it racist? It's my personal preference." "Well, if you refused to become someone's friend because of their race that would make you racist. Right? So why is it not racist if you refuse to give someone a chance for a relationship, because they're black -- or whatever that's different from you? Hm?" "I don't know, Donnie." "I can't believe you. This has to be a joke. You're not attracted to me, because of the colour of my skin?" "It's more than that." "What if I looked different? Would you date me then?" "I have no idea." "Don't lie to me!" "I will not sit here and be accused of lying!" Kate got up and started to walk away. Donnie wanted to follow, but knew that he had messed up. There was no point. At least that's what he thought. Chapter 28: The Morning After The next day, after having a walk with Hoser, Donnie returned to the mansion, feeling invigorated. He headed for the kitchen for some cold water. When he stopped at the fridge he noticed a piece of paper, stuck with a red magnet. He took it and saw that it was a letter in Kate's hand writing. "Dear Donnie," it began. "I appreciate everything you've done for me. These past few weeks have been amazing. But I cannot stay any longer. I won't explain as I don't want to open old wounds, but please understand my decision. This is for the better." Then it finished with, "Regards, Kate." Donnie ran upstairs and went to Kate's room to see whether she was in fact gone. He burst through the door, as one does, and came into an area devoid of personal belongings. The only things left were furniture, and items you could not, or would not, carry off into the night. "Kate?" said Donnie, hoping that she might be around somewhere. "Are you there, Kate? It's me, Donnie." There was no reply, still he had to check twice. So he went to every corner, and the bathroom, and last to the closet. In the closet, which you could walk into, he found a single red shoe. He picked it up to examine it, as if it had something to reveal. Seeing it didn't, he placed it down, and then left. He went downstairs and sat down at the dining table, where he put his head down, feeling woozy for no apparent reason. Just then John came in. "Master Donnie," said John. "Are you ill?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes," said Donnie. "Shall I call the doctor?" "That won't be necessary. My illness is something else." "Is this about Miss Kate leaving?" Donnie lifted his head, "You knew about her leaving?" "Why, yes," said John. "I helped her to leave." "Why?" said Donnie. "She was struggling. You should always help a lady in distress." "Why didn't you tell me?" "I thought it would upset you. And I see it has." "I didn't want her to leave!" "Master Donnie. You can't force someone to stay when they don't wish to. You must understand my viewpoint. I only had three options on the matter. One, refuse to help and look like a brute. Two, help her and look kindly. Or three, disturb your sleep, watch an argument ensue, and then have the girl leave regardless. What would you have done in my shoes?" "I guess it's not your fault." "As Alfred Tennyson would say: 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.'" "That doesn't make me feel better." "Me neither." "Hmm..." "Would you care for something to eat? Perhaps some tea and fruit cream biscuits?" "No." "How about some television?" "No." "A hot shower?" "Uhm, that might help." "I shall fetch the fancy soap, the type that looks edible." Steam escaped from the behind curtain as Donnie let hot water pour down his face and body. He showered, but not at all to clean himself. He was only there to bask in the soothing warmth. As he bent to adjust the faucet temperature he noticed himself in the mirror just ahead. He saw a dark spot, a mole, growing under his chin. He wondered how it got there, and then started using his fingernails to furiously scratch at it. He didn't care that he was bleeding. He wanted so bad to make it to go away. Though this was not new behavior for Donnie, as he had done so in his younger days, and there were many small hideous scars on his body, where he had picked at his spots. Now he had enough money to have them removed by a dermatologist, but he didn't want to do that. He didn't want anyone to think that he was so vain about how he appeared -- but he was. Now Donnie broke down crying, staring at his mirror, realizing the futility of his efforts. All the scratching in the world could not help him, as he saw his whole body as one big dark spot that could not change. Blood running down his neck, he sat in his porcelain bathtub until the water became cold.

Then a knock came at the door. Knock! Knock! "Master Donnie," said John. "I don't mean to bother you, but are you alright in there? You've been showering for quite some time." "I'm fine," said Donnie. "I'm....relaxing." "When will you be out?" "I don't know, John! What do you want?" "There's a call for you." "Tell them I'm busy." "I think it's important." "Is it Kate?" "It's the mayor, Mr. Ford." All was not quite right that afternoon, yet Donnie was before the steps of city hall, expected to make a speech. He stared at the crowd, while trying to get hold himself together. He loosened his tie and lowered his head to get it closer to the microphone. Mayor Frank patted him on the back, encouraging him to "just go for it." Donnie cleared his throat. "The key to the city," he began. "The key to the city..." He hesitated. "The key to the city is not just an honor. It's an opportunity and a privilege. And of all acclamations I have ever received, including money, this is the greatest. Because it doesn't speak about what I've gained, but rather what I've contributed to society. And as I see all your bright faces before me, I can do nothing but feel a glowing in my heart. You people are the reason I am here. Thank y --" As Donnie was about to finish someone suddenly shouted out, "Fuuuck you!" "Pardon?" said Donnie A skinny black man, with a big 'fro, and a multicolored jacket, raised his arm and pointed. "Uncle Tom!" said Spike. "We know what you're doing -- pretending to actually give a damn, so you can gentrify this city. Push out the darkies, and make way for white king, huh?" "I have no idea what you're talking about," said Donnie. "That's how it always is, innit?" said Spike. "Make way for the rich and beautiful. Everyone else is worthless!" "Please," said Donnie. "If you'd like to have a discussion with me, we can do this later." "Even the media's against us!" said Spike. "In movies, and TV shows, and even books -- who finds love? The beautiful and fair skinned! I ain't seen no dark black woman ever being desired, or even an Asian man. What about the rest of us?" "I wish I could help you, sir," said Donnie, "but I'm not in that business. Why don't you direct your concerns to someone who can actually do something?" "I knew you'd say something like that," said Spike. Then a youngish lady, about in her 20s, who looked to be Spike's equal, raised a sign in the air that read, "Let My People Know!" Then she threw it down, and took out a lined sheet of paper.

"LISTEN!" said Sparkle, beginning her poetry amidst the confused crowd. "Listen to my word! Don't think this is absurd, because the man thinks we're about a third! But the truth of the matter is that we got this ladder to climb to the top, where's everyone's above, even that wop. So don't take this beating, even if your faith is fleeting, 'cause a bet on black means someone's got yo' back." Frank gestured to police officers nearest to him, "Take care of this would you?" And suddenly Spike and Sparkle were surrounded by the men in blue. "I'm afraid you'll have to leave," said Officer Marc. "Am not going anywhere," said Spike. "So you best be stepping off, you pig." "Oh, alright," said Officer Marc. He looked over his shoulder. "You heard him, boys. I guess we better pack it in and call it a day. This guy isn't going anywhere." Then he took out his baton and whacked Spike in the leg. WHACK! The other police officers took this as a cue, and soon all started beating down on the defenseless would-be-rabble-rouser. Sparkle tried to help, but was held back. She could only scream. "Stop it!" she said. "You're killing him!" "Shut your goddamn yap," said a cop as he put a hand around her mouth, and gladly watched her boyfriend get beat. Yet Spike remained standing, against all the batons, all the sticks, bludgeoning him in the back, belly, legs, and face. He stumbled about, doing his best not to fall. Blood oozed from his head, which was now swollen to the size of a plump watermelon. "No mo'," said Spike. "I give up." But no one heard, and he was promptly kicked to the ground. Sparkle, who was in tears, broke free from the police and ran away. No one cared to pay her any mind. They thought, maybe, she went off to cry some more. "Hold it, hold it!" said Officer Marc. "I think that's enough." "You sure?" said Officer Dick. "Yeah. Let's lay off for a minute or this could turn ugly." "How so?" "A police officer is a servant to the public, Dick. He has to be conscious of his image. If they think we're too brutal then we might get reprimanded." "Sound advice there, Marc. You're a wise man." "You get that with experience." Just then Sparkle returned -- with a mob of angry people. They all looked like they were from the wrong side of the tracks, and furthermore had nothing better to do, or lose. "There they are!" said Sparkle. "Them crackers who beat up mah baby!" Marc went for his gun, but the mob rushed out, and bowled him over before he could draw it. And the others, who were only there for the ceremony, also got caught in the conflict. The unruly mob of the unemployed, underemployed, and neglected, and ignored, took to violence. They kicked, and punched, and yelled, and threw, anything, and anyone they could. No one was spared. Men, women, the elderly, and even children were victimized. It was official: a riot had broken out. Frank, as mayor, hastily went to the microphone and asked that everyone calm down; however, much to his chagrin, his efforts were wasted when a stone pelted him on the forehead. He took Donnie by the arm, and started dragging him along.

"C'mon, and quit gawking," he said, "we hafta get out of here!" Donnie followed Frank, with no less than ten security guards behind, and jumped into an armored limousine, though it could not take off as they were blocked in by angry hooligans, who took to jumping on the hood, and stomping on the windshield. Frank went into his suit and took out an orange bottle: medicine for anxiety. "You alright?" said Donnie. He looked behind and saw people turning over a car and setting it on fire. "Just fine," said Frank jokingly. "After all, this is an improvement compared to twenty years ago, isn't it?" "Yeah. They're not even smashing the shop windows and loot -- oh, never mind." "Animals, aren't they?" "Worse than animals." "Oh, here comes the teargas. Finally." Donnie laid on the floor, smoking a cigarette. Beside him was a partly drunk bottle of whiskey and an empty glass that contained melting ice. He exhaled tar while staring up at the ceiling. Today he was in no mood to do anything. Papers were strewn across his mahogany desk, and the phones were only answered by John, who now came into the room. "Master Donnie," said John. "I don't mean to pry, but what ever are you doing on the floor? "Taking a break," said Donnie. "What's it to you, Alfred?" "Alfred?" said John. "Um, never mind." John sighed. "I hate to see you like this -- maybe I should leave?" "No, wait," said Donnie. "Let's have a chat. Forget I'm your employer for a minute, okay?" "I'll try my best," said John. "So, uh, how's your family?" "I don't have a family, and I've never had one." "That's depressing." "Isn't that why you hired me? So I could give my attention only to you?" "No. I hired for your personality, Mr. Cynic. But now I'm not so sure." John waved his hand in front of his face to diffuse the smoke coming his way. "Would it be possible if you didn't smoke while I was here?" "Oh, no problem," said Donnie. Then he flicked his cigarette into his empty glass with the half melted ice. "Now, what were we talking about?" "I'm not sure," said John. "Hey, did you see me on the news yesterday?" "I don't watch television." "You should've seen it. It was caarazy." "Generally riots are -- what's that word you used? -- caarazy." "Not like this. People got stabbed, and raped, and robbed. No one was spared. Not even me. I got my wallet stolen." "That sounds awful." Donnie shook his head. "Man, those black people are so goddamn violent."

"Er, aren't you 'black'?" said John. "Yeah, but I'm not a nigger." "Come again?" "John, there are two types of black people: black people and niggers. And niggers are ruining it for the rest of us. See, black people, we're smart and we work hard, but niggers -- ooh, boy. A black person has two jobs, but a nigger can't even get one. When the welfare cheque comes in the mail they do a goddamn dance. Other people would be ashamed." "Did you make that up yourself?" "No. I heard it from a comedian. I think he's on his way to success." "I really hope it doesn't happen." "What? You don't like the ideas he has? Too radical for you?" "I don't like the 'N-word' is what." "Actually, you know what? I change my mind." "That's good." "The more I think about it, John, the more I think black people in general are screwed up. I mean really? How many years have gone by and we can't even get ourselves together? I can't think of one black city or town that's not rife with crime and poverty." "The Golden Ghetto." "What's that?" "The Golden Ghetto. It's a place in Beverly Hills, where the population is predominately black, but they're incredibly prosperous. They're doctors and lawyers and things like that." "Crime rate?" "Quite low." "Alright. But that's an exception. Most black people are like animals. Chimpanzees maybe or dogs with rabies." John let out a breath. "Master Donnie," he said, "I don't know why you've suddenly gained this attitude, but I must inform you that if it continues I will be forced to quit. What you are saying is disgusting, despicable, and deplorable. I can't stand to hear it." "Fine," said Donnie. "I'll stop. Are you happy now?" "As happy as you are," said John. "Hmmm, why don't you take a break now?" "How delightful. I'll be downstairs having a spot of tea, if you need me." "Don't worry. I'm going out. You can have the day off." As John left, Donnie got to his feet. He sat at his desk and rested his head upon his arm. There were no plans of any sort in actuality; he only wanted his butler to stop glaring. So, he tapped his fingers, thinking, and then saw something in the corner of his eye. He grabbed the rectangular object, and saw it was the business card for the Sunshine Clinic. He noted the logo of a sun wearing sunglasses. Donnie went out to Chuck's barbershop. Though he wasn't in need of a haircut he went regardless. Chuck was delighted to have such a loyal customer.

"Soon you'll be bald," said Chuck, whilst maneuvering his shaver around Donnie's head. "Fine by me," said Donnie. "There's nothing wrong with being bald. It shows that you're athletic, even if you're not." "But if you're white, heh," said Chuck, "it somehow means you're a skinhead." "Double standards." "So, you think there'll ever be a black president?" "That's kind of left field." "I was thinking about it earlier. What would be the chances? Hmm?" "Low or non-existent." "I've had dogs sicced on me, I've been sprayed by hoses, but I still think there's a good possibility. Here's how I think it'll go down. One day the country is going to make a big mistake, and it's going to vote in the stupidest, most retarded president you've seen in your entire life. It's going to be so bad that the subconscious will be penetrated, and them white folks will turn on their own. Then they'll be keen on voting for a man of color, anybody that's different." "No president could be that bad -- so bad that he turns people off to white folks." "I see it coming down the pipeline, son. Some idiot is going to spend all the country's money, ruin the economy, and then BAM! Black President." "Still that seems pretty far fetched. I mean what could a single person do to ruin the economy, especially one as strong as this?" "I dunno -- start an imaginary war, with fictitious villains?" "Um, speaking of imagination, Chuck, I have a hypothetical question for you." "Yep." "What do you think about change?" "A tip is better than no tip at all." "I mean change as in changing yourself." "Is it for your or someone else?" "A bit of both." Chuck did the final touches on Donnie's hair. "Want my honest opinion?" said Chuck. "Please," said Donnie. "Who gives a flying fuck what anyone thinks about you? Don't change for nobody!" "Hmm... Well, what if you're an asshole?" "Then you should jump off a building." "That seems kinda cruel." "Alright, lemme change that up. If you're a good person stay the way you are, but if you're an a-hole, please for the love Jesus, get yo' shit together" "And what if you don't know you're an 'a-hole'?" "That's why a-holes never change." Chuck then held a up mirror to show Donnie's finished haircut, but Donnie was too busy staring at his watch. Still looking at his watch, Donnie stopped in front of the Sunshine Clinic. As a strong breeze blew at his side he looked up at the flickering sign. He went in and met with the

secretary. She was behind the powder blue counter, filling in spaces on a sheet. She looked up at Donnie, who had on a half smile. "Oh, hello," said Martha. She spit out her chewing gum and put it into a tissue. "What can I help you with?" "I've come here to cancel my appointment," said Donnie. "And your name?" said Martha. "Underwood," said Donnie. "Donnie Underwood." Martha scanned her eyes on a clipboard. "Would that be Donald Underwood?" she said. "Yes," said Donnie. "Would you mind me asking why you are canceling?" said Martha. "I don't think it's necessary anymore." "And you are satisfied with the way you look?" "Is that so hard to believe?" "Don't take it the wrong way. I think you look wonderful. I just also think that if you were satisfied with the way you looked, then you wouldn't have made an appointment in the first place." "That is a good inference, but ultimately incorrect. I have simply changed my mind. People change their minds. It's not uncommon." "...You're afraid is that it? Let me allay your fears." Martha took out a pamphlet and unfolded it. "See," she said, pointing to a picture, "it's not all too complicated. And you won't hardly feel any pain. It works through something called gene therapy." "I've made up my mind," said Donnie. "Are you sure?" said Martha. "Yes." "There is a cancellation fee, and it's quite substantial." "How much?" "It's about the price of an expensive dinner." "I can afford that." "When I say expensive I don't mean like Appleton's. I mean like, um, that fancy new restaurant that just opened up. What's it called? 'The Fork in the Road' -- it's ran by that guy with that weird name, Wolfgang something." "Oh, I've been meaning to go there." "Really? I heard you can only get a table if youre rich or famous." "Hmm, I think I can manage." "Oh yeah? And who will you be taking to this very fine restaurant?" "Would you be interested in going?" "You are very handsome, sir, and I'm flattered, but I have a fianc ." "Really? You look very young to be getting engaged." "I'm almost nineteen years old. It's time to settle down." "How old is your husband?" "Fifty." "Wow." "Yes, but he's very mature for his age." "Do you actually think this is a good idea?"

"That's exactly what my dad said...my dad who is thirty years older than my mom." "Did he say that when he was alive?" "He's still alive. And if you must know he is in good shape. Everything is working. Everything. Including his --" "Riiight. Would you cancel my appointment please?" "Sure thing." And Martha drew her pen across a piece of paper. While there wasn't a queue outside "The Fork in the Road" restaurant had cars lined around. Donnie took whatever parking spot he could get and stepped out with Pearl. The building looked plain, except where the sign was, which had light bulbs surrounding the silverish sign. "Oooh, fancy," said Pearl. "We haven't even gotten inside yet," said Donnie. "What can I say?" said Pearl. "When you work in a homeless shelter anything that doesn't smell like puke is fancy." "But of course," said Donnie. Then Donnie and Pearl went through the front doors of the restaurant and into the waiting area. It was an eye catching place that had a lot of gloss and shine. It was in demand, hip, and new. A lady in a black vest and white shirt stopped by. "Hi, excuse me," said Donnie, "but could we possibly get a table?" "I'm sorry," said Becky. "We're not taking any customers right now." "Might I ask why? I know this place is popular, but you must have at least one table free. Anything. Even by the washrooms." "I apologize again, but one party has booked the entire place. You aren't allowed in, unless you have an invite." "Who had the chutzpah to book this entire place? I mean who could afford such a thing?" "A famous movie producer, who I'm not at liberty to name. He's holding a wrap party. All the celebrities are here." "All of them? Even that one who touched those children?" "He was acquitted, if you remember." "Okay. So, there's nothing we can do about this? The night's gone to waste?" "You can go somewhere else -- or I could sneak you in." Donnie stepped forward, but Becky put out a hand to stop him. "Aah, you're forgetting something," she said. She rubbed her fingers together. Donnie sighed, then put some money into Becky's palm. "Thenk you," said Becky. "Go right ahead." And she removed the velvet rope blocking the way. Donnie and Pearl went past it and right away bumped into someone familiar: Aaron Xavier Junior. Xavier greeted them while holding a champagne glass in his hand. "Donnie," said Xavier. "What're you doing here?" "I should ask the same thing," said Donnie.

"Well," said Xavier, "I came here on an invite. I'm close friends with one of the actresses." "And who might that be?" "Kate." Donnie's face cringed. "You alright?" said Pearl. "Yes, I'm fine," said Donnie. Xavier sipped his drink. "Weren't you invited?" he said. "No," said Donnie. "Kate never invited me." "That's too bad," said Xavier. "I thought you two were good pals. Guess not... Does that mean you'll still be dining here?" "I'm an adult. I won't ruin my night and be deterred by one person. Me and my date are going to eat here." "Wow, Donnie. That's real mature of you. Hey, how about I introduce you to all the movie stars?" "You mean celebrities, and I'd rather not talk to them if that's okay with you." "Why? What's wrong with celebrities?" "They make too much money, they get too much attention, and they do nothing for anybody." "You're jealous." "Why would I be jealous?" "Why wouldn't you be jealous of people richer, more popular, and far more beautiful than you?" "Richer? Please." "Okay, not richer. But still more popular and much more beautiful." "Must you constantly be a thorn in my side, Xavier?" "I'm only treating you how you treat me, Donnie." Donnie paused. "I know what this is about." "What's that?" said Xavier. "You don't like me," said Donnie. "Who says?" "I know that you don't like me, because your dad, my mentor, likes me better than you, his own son. See. I'm a self-made man and you're still living under his shadow, and you hate when he criticizes you, and compares you, so you have to take it out on everyone else. I know. I'd get annoyed too, especially if my father's nickname for me was spongey." Xavier looked like he was going to explode. But then he patted Donnie on his shoulder and turned to go away. "Nice seeing you, pal," said Xavier. Now Donnie and Pearl went ahead and searched for a table, which was harder to do than it seemed, since there were so many people standing around, listening to music, and mingling about. Finally, Donnie and Pearl found a table, of course by the bathrooms. They sat down and laid napkins on their laps. They looked around, hoping to get help.

"I don't think anyone's comin'," said Pearl. "They're all helping out with the party. And we're the only ones sitting... Ah, I knew this was a bad idea, going on a date with your boss. I could be sleeping by now." "You'd rather sleep than go out on a date?" said Donnie. "Sleeping is fun," said Pearl. "You can do things you normally can't. For example, last night I rode a velociraptor to work." "Oh, that's great." "So, what do you dream about?" "I dreamt about... Kate." "You dreamt about Kate, huh? Well, that makes a lot sense. You're kinda bonkers about her, aren't you?" "No. Kate. I see Kate." Donnie stood and put his hand over his eyes to block the flashing lights. Kate glanced at him and then ostensibly averted her gaze. Then she disappeared into a sea of people. "I'll be back in a minute," said Donnie. "Take your time," said Pearl. And then Donnie began walking toward the place where Kate was last seen. As he was about to get to his destination he saw, to the side, Xavier pointing at him with some quite large men. These quite large men were in actuality security guards, and when they got a clear look at Donnie they marched in his direction. "Excuse me," said Mr. White to Donnie. "I don't mean to bother you, sir, but we've been informed that you are not an invitee to this here party." "I need to speak with Kate," said Donnie. "Where is she?" "Are you even listening?" said Mr. White. "Look, pal," said Mr. Red. "A lot of people wanna speak to Kate. Why should we make you an exception?" "Err, I'm her boyfriend," said Donnie. Mr. Red laughed. "Ho-ho-ho!" "Why the laugh?" said Donnie. "Welp, either you're lying," said Mr. Red. "Or you're about to have your night ruined." "What does that mean?" said Donnie. "Rumor has it your little Kate was getting, uh, how shall we say?" said Mr. White. "She went to town while you weren't here," said Mr. Red. "But, hey, I'm not surprised. These Hollyweird types are like that. They live in this bubble, where the rules normal people follow don't apply." "You look speechless," said Mr. White. "Are you sure it was her?" said Donnie. "Did anyone actually see it?" "It's not what you see that matters," said Mr. White. "It's what you don't see." "I don't know what that means," said Donnie. "Hoo-yah," said Mr. Red. "He's already in the Nile." "What now?" said Donnie. Mr. Red put his arm on Donnie's shoulder. Mr. White did too. "You need some medicine," said Mr. White. "Why?" said Donnie.

"You're sick," said Mr. Red. "No," said Donnie. "I feel fine." But Mr. White and Mr. Red pulled Donnie along regardless. Donnie glanced at Pearl, who was getting up to leave, before he was taken away. He wanted to say something, but ended up in the shelter of a very unusual room. It was circular, glowing, and had a table laid in the middle, surrounded by giggling, scantily clad ladies that were dressed in costume. The costumes gave them the resemblance of animals: a horse, a rat, a dog, and a snake. "Uh, what is this?" said Donnie. "This is the powder room," said Mr. White. "Every good party has one." "But I don't see a sink or toilet," said Donnie. "You kidder, you," said Mr. Red. "Ladies, if you wouldn't mind," said Mr. White. "Would you retrieve the sugar?" The horse -- that is the lady dressed as a horse -- conjured up a big clear bag, filled with a white powdery substance. She poured it onto the table while giving a toothy smile. Mr. White and Mr. Red made Donnie sit down. "Have a try," said Mr. White. Mr. Red handed him a dollar bill. "Roll it up," he said. "Hoookay now," said Donnie. "I get why it's called the powder room -- it should've been obvious -- look, fellas, I don't do drugs, okay? Unless it's medical. So, pack up your snow mountain and I'll be on my way." Donnie stood, but one of the females pulled him down...seductively. "Commmme on," said the snake. "Don't be such a square. Take a little sniff. It'll make you feel better -- and don't you wanna be cool? All the cool kids are doing it." "What am I twelve?" said Donnie. "You can't peer pressure me into doing drugs. I don't care whether the cool kids are doing it or not. And furthermore, what kids?" "How about if you do it, we'll have a foursome!" said the rat. "You can have all three of us," said the dog. "We can do it doggy style." "That is disgusting," said Donnie. "What, you think we're disgusting?" said the horse. "No," said Donnie. "I just...this isn't for me." "You don't do drugs, you're not into foursomes," said Mr. Red. "What exactly do you do for fun? "Sometimes I play checkers with my butler," said Donnie. "And sometimes I go on Facebook." "What?" said Mr. White. "I never said anything about a time traveling machine," said Donnie. "Anyway, I think I should be going now." "Wait," said Mr. Red. "You look a bit tired. Why don't you try some special herbs to pep you up? Mr. White, do we have any herbs left?" Mr. White took out a bag of chopped mushrooms. "Those aren't herbs," said Donnie. "Those are mushrooms." "All natural," said Mr. White. "You take them and they give you a bit of energy." "I'd rather not," said Donnie.

Mr. White grabbed Donnie, and put him into a full nelson. "What are you doing?!" said Donnie. Mr. White opened Donnie's mouth and poured down a handful of mushrooms. Donnie nearly choked. He spit out the drugs, as much as he could, and stood up to wrestle himself away. But when he did he accidentally fell into the pile of cocaine that was just ahead. His clothes, his suit, became enveloped in powdery whiteness. "What's happening to me?!" said Donnie. He spun around and looked at the girls in the round room. They had all turned into the animals they had dressed as, and Mr. Red, and Mr. White had become chess pieces: a rook and a knight. "Aren't we having fun?" said the horse. The horse mounted the dog and started neighing. Eeee-hee-hee-hee! "My brain!" said Donnie. "What's going on?!" He ran out, into the area of the restaurant, where everyone was, and tore off all his clothes. Then he jumped atop the piano and started screaming at the top of his lungs, "I'm king of the world!" Finally, he passed out and fell down onto the local pianist. Chapter 29: My Head A hand slapped Donnie across the face. He awoke and sat up. "Hwuh-hwuh!" he went. "What's going on?" John slapped Donnie again. "Ow!" said Donnie. "What're you doing?!" "I'm waking you up," said John. "Are you?" said Donnie. "You know, a splash of water is traditional, or even a pinch." John pinched Donnie. "Ow!" said Donnie. "Not now. I'm already awake." "Sorry," said John. "Now what's this business of waking me up like a bum?" "You were out cold for quite some time. I thought you were dead." "And you didn't call for an ambulance?" "It hadn't crossed my mind." "Oh, by the way, the pianist is demanding money for his injuries." "Write him a cheque." "Done." "Also Pearl called to say that there'll be no second date." "Understandable." "The restaurant also wants you to pay for the toilet you broke." "When did I brake a toilet?" "I don't know." "Alright, write them a cheque too." Donnie got to his feet and started walking. "Follow me, please," he said to John. "I need to walk off the toxins in my system."

"Right-o," said John. "So, how have you been?" said Donnie, wandering aimlessly. "Do you miss being away from home?" "Home is wherever you are, Master Donnie." "Kissing up won't get you a raise, John." "Nuts." "By the way did you find out where Kate's staying?" "Her mum's." "Step mom or biological mom." "Biological, I believe." "And where is this place?" "I thought you weren't interested anymore. I thought you swore her off. I thought you said you wanted nothing to do with her. You went on a whole rant about how she was a poison in your life, and that the images of her with other men haunted the house that is your brain -- or something to that effect." "Well, I've changed my mind." "Oh and what has brought this about?" "I know I made a fool out of myself at that restaurant, John, but while I was having that trip I also had an epiphany." "And what is this epiphany?" "Go with the flow." "That's it?" "It's much more complex than you think. See, when you're in the water and you fight against the current, you get tired, and you lose. But when you go with the flow you're taken to new places or maybe even the place that you wanted to go." "Is there no fear of drowning?" "It's not to be taken literally." "Of course, and so this applies to your life how?" Donnie went into the kitchen and filled a glass with water. "Well," said Donnie, "I've been fighting against Kate. And I've been too antagonistic with her, and I think that I should be more tolerant of her behavior. Just because I don't understand it doesn't mean it's wrong. If I really love her, then I'll accept her for who she is. Love isn't about picking and choosing. You take the whole package." "That's quite wise of you to say," said John. "Now, how about that address?" said Donnie. "I think it's a bad idea." "It's not. Didn't you hear what I said?" "I know you. You're in a good mood now, but you'll change. You'll change and then you'll just cause yourself grief. You two are not meant to be." "What audacity! What do you mean we aren't meant to be?" "You two are far too different." "We have a lot in common. Did you know that we both share the same favorite color?" "What color is that?" "Red." "Who doesn't like red?"

"People from 1950s" "Still I don't see it." "John! Stop being so stubborn! Just gimme the address, so I can go see her. I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions about my love life." "Very well, Master Donnie. The address should be on the fridge." Donnie went to the fridge and took the yellow sticky note. After a few dozen turns, and asking for directions, Donnie wound up at a three bedroom, single garage, white picket fence house, which had a pinwheel in perfectly brown grass. He opened the car door on his side, and, with a present in hand -- rectangular and covered in silver gift wrap -- put a foot onto the street, ready to go visit house number fifteen. He stepped on the sidewalk but stopped suddenly when he saw Kate and a large man coming outside. Kate and Garrett were in a heated argument. Even without the screaming it was easy to know what was going on as their arms went into the air. "Have you lost your mind?!" said Garrett. "I haven't lost anything!" said Kate. "You stupid son of a bitch!" Garrett slapped Kate across the face. She froze, unsure how to react. "You, you slapped me," said Kate, holding her cheek. "You were asking for it," said Garrett. Garrett grabbed Kate and slapped her some more. He was unyielding and did not even stop when she was practically drowning in her own tears. "You bitch!" Garrett yelled. Donnie had seen enough of this. He rushed forward and to the aid of Kate. He went up the steps to hold back Garrett's arm. "Don't you dare touch her again," said Donnie, almost growling. Garrett paused, glanced at the man to his side, and then lashed out with a punch. Kate put her hand on her mouth in shock. Donnie tumbled back and whacked his skull on the interlocking walkway. "You people think you're all so tough," said Garrett. "But you know what? You're just talk. Talk, talk, talk." Donnie got up and charged, but Garrett grabbed him by the shoulders and swung him into the brick wall. Donnie stumbled about, dizzy, then put up his hands to block the oncoming flurry of punches. "Stop it!" said Kate. "You're killing him!" And she ran to Garrett to stop try to stop him, but he twisted back, and by that motion alone, threw her to the side. She landed on her tailbone, which mad the nauseating noise of "crack!" Or might it be "crunch!"? "Watch where you're going," Garrett said to Kate. "You might get hurt." "You bastard," said Donnie, and he swung with a good punch. The punch however wasn't good enough, having no effect on Garrett's thick square jaw. Garrett even more pissed than before, yet somehow calm, took Donnie into a headlock. He ran forward with him, and smashed his head into the nearest tree. "I can't beleaf I did that," Garrett said with a snigger. Meanwhile Donnie was hastily hatching a plan in his mind. Here is what he'd do: Distract Garrett by pointing at something off in the distance, then while he is looking,

kick him in the balls, give him a power punch to the head, and finish him off, thus saving the day. Donnie wobbled as he stood. Then he put out his hands as if submitting. "Hold on now," said Donnie. "Hold on. Can't we talk this out?" "Talk it out?" said Garrett. "How quaint. And what do you have to say before I beat you into a pulp?" "Well, I just wanted to say," said Donnie, "that, uh -- hey, what's that?!?" He pointed outward. When Garrett turned his head Donnie went in for the kill. He pulled back his leg, like planned, and swung it forward -- and missed. Garrett stepped aside, spun him about, and put him into a choke hold. Donnie was lifted off his feet as he struggled for air. "Arhp!" was all he could get out of his mouth, while he actually meant to say, "Help!" "What's it like having the life choked out of you?" said Garrett. Donnie could not respond when everything faded to black. A little black bird pecked on Donnie's forehead. He opened his eyes to swat it away. Then he got to his feet, groaned loudly, and looked around. He immediately knew where he was: Pinewood Cemetery, the place where Teddy was permanently laid to rest. "Well," said Donnie, "I guess I should get moving." And he walked between the rows of wilted flowers, and of course headstones, many which belonged to people too young. They were victims of the most recent war. Donnie had thought that before heading overseas they probably had rich, interesting lives, but here they all seemed the same. He remembered something that he learned from a philosophy major, who had once dispensed him coffee. "When the game of chess is over the king and pawns go inside the same box." Donnie left the cemetery through the rusted iron gates. While he walked down the sidewalk he noticed a police cruiser. The cruiser stopped right at the curb. Officer Dick leaned out the window. He tipped his hat. "Evening," he said. "Evening," said Donnie. Donnie kept walking but the cruiser slowly followed. "Whatcha doing there?" said Officer Dick. "Nothing," said Donnie. "You look like you've been roughed up. Got into a fight? Hmm?" "Something like that." "Could I ask you to stop walking please?" "Why? It's a free country." "Stop right now!" Donnie reluctantly stopped, and so did the police cruiser. Officer Dick stepped outside. "Now," said Officer Dick, "would you please show me your ID? "I'd rather not," said Donnie. Officer Dick put his hand on his gun.

"Alright," said Donnie. He searched his back pocket, hoping to find his wallet. He did and he showed his driver's license to Officer Dick. Officer Dick read it aloud, "Donald Underwood. Oh! I'm so sorry to bother you, sir. I thought you were someone else." "You thought I was who?" said Donnie. "Um, er, well," said Officer Dick, "I thought you were a perp. Sorry. You're not offended, are you?" Donnie was in fact offended, but instead of getting angry he only felt disappointed. "No problem, Officer," said Donnie. "Anyone could make that mistake." "You're very polite," said Officer Dick. "And so well-spoken. You speak so well." "Oh," said Donnie, "how did you expect me to speak?" "I dunno. Just not the way you're speaking. Totally surprised." "...Uh-huh." "Y'know, this is my first time meeting a multi-millionaire." "I'm just like everyone else." "No, you're not. You're different. I know you wealthy people like to pretend you're the same like Joe Nobody, but you, you must have a quality that sets you apart from everyone else." "I don't think so." "Come on, I read your biography in News Week. For God-sake, you had a cardboard box for a crib. Are you telling me you had no special qualities that made you into what you are now?" Donnie paused to think. He gently touched the cut above his eyebrow. "I guess," he said, "perseverance." "That's all?" said Officer Dick. "Nothing else?" "And luck." "Luck, hey? My dad always told me that luck has nothing to do with anything. It's only your hard work that counts." "Ha!" "Why's that funny? You really believe in luck?" "Let me ask you a question first." "Okay." "What country were you born?" "Here." "Did you grow up in a nice, stable family?" "I believe they call it a nuclear family." "Alright, you're a fairly tall guy, I'd say six foot something -- did you choose how tall you wanted to be?" "Course not." "Exactly. And all those things I mentioned, which are so important, you had them, and none of it was in your control. That's what I call luck. You're in the lucky sperm club." "I'm a police officer. You think I'm lucky?" "You make more money than a teacher, with less education, and when you screw up you get rewarded, suspension on full pay. Is that not lucky?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." "I'm saying you're lucky! Just look at yourself. You get to be something that most people would kill to be." As Officer Dick was about to respond a voice came from the radio in his police cruiser. "Officer Dick, 187," it said. "187. Are you there? We have a 187." "Agh, shit," said Dick. "I hafta go." Then he jumped into his vehicle and sped off without even saying goodbye. Donnie was relieved that he was gone, even though cutting conversations short was not to his liking. Many things were not to his liking. Chapter 30: Lock-down When Donnie left the office building he noticed two men following him, a man with a video camera, and a man with a microphone. The man with the microphone, Rupert, (in no words uncertain) invaded Donnie's personal space. "Mr. Underwood," said Rupert, "aw, could I ask you a couple questions?" "Are you a paparazzo?" said Donnie. Aw, an entertainment journalist. Same difference." "Not really, but anyway -- aw, first question, what were you doing inside that building, Mr. Underwood?" "Um, that's really none of your business." "I'm sorry. Aw, next question, what happened to your face?" "You think there's something wrong with my face?" "You look pretty beat up." "I'm a super hero. I fight crime at night, don't you know?" "Aw, very funny. Speaking of jokes..." "I really don't have the --" "Did you, aw, hear about the van carrying thesauruses? It crashed into a bus. Everyone who saw the accident was shocked, surprised, awestruck, taken aback, astonished, rattled, startled, confounded, bewildered, dazzled, discomfited..." "OK. I get it." "Yep, yep. So, aw, what's going on with your cousin at the moment?" "Which cousin?" "Aw, I think his name is Jay." "Jay? What about him?" "Really, aw, you didn't hear? He got arrested." Donnie didn't reply. Rupert pressed. "What do you think of that?" Donnie started power walking toward his car and then hastily got in. Rupert banged on the window as it drove off. "Aw," said Rupert, "what's the rush?"

Donnie parked his car on a street corner, far from prying eyes. He leaned back in his seat and pressed his hands on his forehead, as if having a headache. As his eyes were closed he suddenly heard a ringing. He reached into the glove compartment and took out a cellular radio phone. The cellphone -- a $3,000 piece of gadgetry -- was made out of black plastic, had a red display for several numbers, an antenna that could be pulled out, and a mouthpiece which flipped down. "Hello?" Donnie said on his cellphone. A shaky voice voice answered, "Hi." "May I know who's calling?" said Donnie. "It's me," said Jay. "Your cuz." "Jay?" "Yeah, I tried contacting you before, but I couldn't get through." "Sorry about that I was busy... So, are you actually in prison?" "Locked up like a, well, you know." "What happened?" "I'll keep it brief, cuz. These phone calls are real expensive." "Okay." "I punched a cop in the face." "That's not so bad... I guess." "And I tried stealing his gun." "Oh." "But he shot my friend dead." "Why? What did he do?" "Nothing. They were hassling us when we were just walking around, and Jack thought it'd be funny to pull out a ripe banana." "I see. So, they thought it was a gun?" "No. Well, that's what they said, but they actually shot him a minute after he pulled out his fruit. They definitely knew what it was." "Okay, then you responded by punching the cop in the face? And trying to steal his gun?" "Mhm." "Oh, God. This whole thing sounds so terrible." "It's not that terrible." "What do you mean?" "To be honest, erm, I didn't really like Jack that much in the first place. He was kind of braggy, always bragging about all the women he banged. Like it was some type of achievement. Okay. 6 billion people on Earth, and the number's headed up. People are obviously having lots of sex, so if you're doing it too that's not really unique or noteworthy. But I think Jack had self-esteem problems. People who fuck around a lot tend to have self-esteem problems, don't they?" "Okay, wait. So, you don't like Jack then? Then why did you swing at the cop?" "Self defense. Plus them pigs annoy me." "I see." "But I probably shouldn't have done it though." "Alright. So, how long you gonna be in prison for?

"Probably for a while... I'm here on attempted murder. They said I had a knife and I had intent to use it." "Did you have a knife?" "Swiss army, though it was folded up, and in my pocket -- but that doesn't matter now. Are you gonna come and visit me, Donnie?" Donnie in truth did not want to, but said "yes" anyways. Jay could be heard doing a jump. "When will you be visiting?" said Jay. "I don't know," said Donnie. "As soon as I can." "How about tomorrow?" said Jay. "Um..." "Pleeeeeeease!" "Um..." "Pretty pleeeeeeease!" "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow." "Yes!" Chapter 31: Change Donnie didn't visit Jay the next day...or the day after...or the day after that...and after that, and after that. He was far too busy with his life, and when he nearly had a day off, no business or charity to do, something came up. Today he had an appointment at the Sunshine Clinic. Donnie took in a deep breath and went inside to check in with the secretary. "Hi," said Donnie. "I'm here for my appointment." "Name please," said Martha. "Donnie Underwood." "Have a seat Mr. Underwood. I'll let you know when it's time." "Thank you." Donnie sat down beside the gentleman who had steely gray hair, sunglasses, a black suit, and gloves on. Yoseph was reading a fashion magazine, which had a cover graced by a model one size too small. "You look nervous," said Yoseph. "Hmm?" said Donnie, who was in actuality nervous. "You look nervous, I said," said Yoseph. He had a light European accent. "Oh, ah, no," said Donnie. "I'm just -- this is how I always look." "Vell, you won't look that way after." "Yeah. Heh. Same to you." "O, I'm not here to change the way I look. Why would I do that? I'm incredibly beautiful. Don't you think?" Donnie looked at Yoseph, who was well into his 40s, and had deep wrinkles coming down the sides of his mouth. "Sure," said Donnie. "Actually, I'm an investor," Yoseph continued. "I own a controlling percent of this business. The Sunshine Clinic, you know, is the first of its kind." "And you think this'll make a lot of money?" said Donnie.

"I believe so. After all, this is just an extension of the fashion industry, which I am a veteran of." "How is this an extension of the fashion industry?" "In the fashion industry you pay to change your outside, and here you also pay to change your outside. Is that not similar?" "I suppose." Yoseph glanced at Donnie, the only eye contact he made in their conversation. "I must ask," said Yoseph, "are you a man of business yourself?" "How did you know?" said Donnie. "Your clothes are very expensive. This is something that only executives wear." "I must say, you have a good eye." "Vell, granted, I did design that suit." "Really?" "Yes." "I'm impressed." "What's more impressive probably is how I convinced you to buy it." "But I never met you before." "Indirectly, I meant, through clever marketing." "Ha. You think I'm that easily brainwashed? I bought this suit because it's well made and sturdy." "Ah, you're just like everyone else. You think that you do things and buy things all on your own, but the truth is the fashion industry is smarter than you think. Everything we do is a move like in checkers or chess. It's planned out to the last detail. If you were smart you'd know that the fashion industry isn't in the clothing business." "What business is it in then?" "Hope." Donnie sniggered. "Care to explain?" he said. "You laugh," said Yoseph, "but you know that it's true. Because when people buy our clothes, subconsciously, they are hoping they can look like the models, and actors, and actresses that wear them. The mind thinks they can be as attractive by copying what they see." "Wait a minute. Don't they airbrush the hell out of those models?" "That's the sad part. Our patrons will never look like that. In fact nobody can look like that. How can anyone match perfect lighting, perfect angles, hours of makeup, and, as you said, airbrushing?" "You're quite Frank about everything, aren't you?" "I'm a businessmen. That's what I do. No mercy, no bullshit... Plus this should all be common knowledge by now, anyways." "I don't think it's common knowledge -- at least for people you're selling to." "Eh, you say that like I should feel guilty." "It's certainly deceitful." "I'll tell you what's deceitful, convincing women that clothes that hardly covers their skin is attractive, so that as a manufacturer you can save money on material and fabric costs." "Are you serious? That's the reason women's clothing is constantly shrinking?"

"Mhm, and what's more amusing is we tell them it's for feminism, and so that they can feel empowered, and beautiful. But the truth is it has nothing to do with feminism, or anything else, and only with cost. Did you know that a g-string is 70% cheaper to make than granny panties? Yet mysteriously -- or perhaps through marketing -- they sell for much, much more in shops." "Oh, God. I don't know whether that's genius or evil." "Can't it be both?" Donnie had no reply. Now Yoseph went back to his magazine. Then Donnie looked ahead and saw a man leaving one of several doors. The man had on a black trench coat, a hat, and was quite keen on keeping his head down. As he passed by the secretary, Martha, spoke up. "Underwood," she said, "Donnie Underwood?" "Yes?" said Donnie. "It's time." The room was cold. Donnie sat on the examination table in a white patient's gown. A ruffling sound could be heard as he shifted his bottom atop the white tissue paper. Dr. Rose finished examining his eye with her ophthalmoscope (off-thal-maw-scope). "You look to be in good health," said Dr. Rose. "But before we proceed I am legally obligated to pose a set of questions that would evaluate your mental state, will, and well being. Mr. Underwood, are you ready?" "Yes," said Donnie. "I am." "Number one," said Dr. Rose. "Are your here through your own volition?" "Yes," said Donnie. "Have you taken any drugs or alcohol beforehand, before this visit?" "No." "Are you aware of what this medical procedure entails, and any and all following consequences?" "Of course." "Yes or no answers only, please." "Yes. I am aware of what this procedure entails." "Are you under the guardianship of anyone, who might be opposed to this medical procedure?" "Not that I know of -- I mean no." "Have you at any time heard voices or a voice, not of your own, coming from an unidentifiable source?" "No." "What is your highest level of complete education?" "I have an MBA." "Do you have any history of depression?" "I don't understand why you're asking all these questions, Dr. Rose. Didn't we go through these things before?" "Not all of them, Mr. Underwood, and things change over time. I need the most updated relevant information." "Alright, well, let's get this thing moving then. I'm getting impatient. What's next?"

"That's it. Those are all the questions." "Oh... Okay." "Let's get going, shall we?" Donnie came off the examination table, then Dr. Rose led him to the opposite end of the room, where there was a device that looked like a futuristic coffin. The "futuristic coffin" was streamlined, like a race car, and had touches of silver, LED lights, and a perfectly clean glass cover. It stood upright at an angle, for easy entry, attached by tubes to several cylinders with mysterious chemicals. This machine was nicknamed the skin changer by its inventor, though formally known as the CD-40. "Would you care to step in?" said Dr. Rose. An assistant pulled a lever to open the CD-40. From it came a white mist. "Actually," said Donnie, "I'm having seconds thoughts." "Are you sure?" said Dr. Rose. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience." "That's okay. To be honest I don't even know why you wanted to change in the first place." Suddenly an image of Kate flashed in Donnie's mind, and then -"Wait, I changed my mind," said Donnie. "Again?" said Dr. Rose. Donnie nodded affirmatively. "Alright," said Dr. Rose. She looked at her assistant. "Let's go." In a moment Donnie was being eased into the CD-40. The assistant beside him wiped down his body, and gave him a red pill, and glass of water. "What's this for?" said Donnie. "It's a muscle relaxant," said Dr. Rose. "Swallow it." When Donnie did as told, and swallowed the red pill, he felt his body immediately shiver. Then the machine he was standing in sealed him in. His eyes darted in an instant, looking for a way out. Paranoia struck. Donnie thought that he might die. He opened his mouth to speak. "Hello?" said Donnie. "Can anyone hear me? I --" But before he could say his next word he felt a sharp, excruciating pain in his torso. He looked down to see that several tentacle-like projections had pierced his skin, and they were pumping him with a fluorescent liquid. Meanwhile Dr. Rose and her assistant were watching a screen, monitoring his vital signs. They pushed buttons together on a console, one by one, as lights and sounds indicated what might be happening. Donnie remained in the machine, imagining all the things that would go wrong. He tried moving his body, but found that his muscles did not have the ability to flex, and even if he could move there was no room for movement. "What am I doing here?" said Donnie. "What the hell am I doing here?!" And he screamed, but no sound came out. By this point a cloudy gas had filled his chamber. However, unlike clouds, it was thick and sticky. It had filled Donnie's lungs to penetrate every cell in his body. Chapter 32: Get Down

Donnie asked John if everything was ready for his party. "Indubitably," said John. "The caterers and servers have arrived, and the entertainment is on its way." "Good," said Donnie. Donnie looked through the crack of his door, bathed in darkness. "Is there anything else that you need?" said John. "My press release," said Donnie, "is it ready?" "Yes. Everything is in order. All we need are photographs." "And the guests?" "What of them?" "Are they coming?" "Of course." "And what about..." "Miss Kate?" "Yeah. Miss Kate." "Unfortunately, I never received an RSVP." "But how could she miss this? This is biggest event since -- ever!" "I don't know." "Forget about it. Who needs her, anyway? Right?" "Master Donnie, I have errands to run." "Fine. You can go now." "Thank you." When John left, Donnie shut the door, and then went to the window upon hearing some noise. He looked below and saw people arriving on the walkway. He drew down the blinds and went to the mirror in the corner of his room. He stared at it apprehensively, unsure that what he had done earlier would even pay off. Here he was, after weeks, still entombed in bandages. "Are you ready?" said Donnie, speaking to himself. "I don't know," Donnie replied. "What if it looks awful?" "There's only one way to find out." "I'm scared." "You have no choice, friend. You have to live with your choices." "You do it." "We'll do it together." "At the same time." "I can't." "Yes! We can!" Then two fingers inched up Donnie's body and pinched the loose ends of his bandages. The unraveling began. The party at the mansion was in full swing. Kate, in her open toe shoes, stood about in a circle of gents whilst music played, and people in silk vests served up plenty of hors d'oeuvres -- which meant cheese for everyone. "Oh, could you get me a drink?" Kate said to one of the men. "My throat is so parched from all this here chatting."

So, one man left, and in his place another had entered. Though, unlike the others, Kate actually took notice of him. The two immediately exchanged eye contact. This new male stood out from all the others. He was tall, slim, had raven-like hair, and piercing, dark eyes. Even his smile had a sparkle to it. "Hello, handsome," said Kate. "And who are you?" "You don't recognize me?" said Donnie. He glanced at his own white fingers, doubtful that he had fully transformed. "No, I don't," said Kate. "Have we met before?" "We have." "Where?" "Why don't we go and discuss this at the bar?" "Weeell, If nobody here minds..." Before Kate could say another word, Donnie had grabbed her by the hand, and was pulling her a long. He took her over to the bar, where the each of them could take a seat. "Two mojitos, please," said Donnie, feeling quite suave. "Hello?" "There's no bartender here," said Kate. "Probably in the bathroom or something," said Donnie. (The bartender was not in the bathroom. He was canoodling in the coatroom.) "I guess we can wait." "Waiting is for losers." Donnie hopped over the counter and then turned around to face Kate from behind the bar. "What can I get yah?" he said, grinning. "He-he-he," Kate giggled. "I'll have whatever you're having." And so Donnie mixed a quantity of rum, mint, sugar, and lime, and sparkling water together, to make drinks for himself and Kate. She took a sip without hesitation. "How is it?" said Donnie. Kate sprang forward and kissed Donnie on the lips. "As good as your lips," she said. Donnie blushed. His skin turned bright red. The kiss was nice, but not as nice as he thought it would be. Though others stared in envy. "What's the matter?" said Kate. "Didn't you like my kiss?" Then she kissed him again -- and again, and again in rapid succession -- however, instead of enjoying it, he rather quickly pulled back. "Boy," said Kate, "most people would be melting by now." "It's not you," said Donnie. "I just need some time to warm up. That's all." But secretly Donnie was thinking about how he was only one man of many, and that very idea he found quite repugnant. As well he was a bit of romantic. Under the stars is what he preferred. "Well, then!" said Kate. "We oughta loosen you up! How about a game?" "What game?" said Donnie. "A drinking game." "A drinking game? Oh, uh, how does that work exactly?" "You don't know?" "No. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize. It's very simple. Every time someone does something, or something thing happens, of our choosing, we'll drink to it. It's like punch buggy, except for adults." "And the goal of this is?" "Have a fun time. You do like having a fun time, don't you?" "Of course." "Okay. Here's the drinking game. Uhm... Pick a celebrity, and for every time they give out an autograph or signature, your partner in crime has to take a drink." "And what is the goal of this game?" "No goal, other than getting the other person much, much drunker than you." "And we'll be drinking?" "Vodka." "Going Russian, huh?" "Or whiskey, if you can't handle it." "Vodka is fine." "Great. Now, who's your celebrity, hm? Or mine rather." Donnie looked into the crowd. He saw an assortment of people, including his friends, George and Allison, and even Mayor Frank, but none of them for this task were remotely famous enough, as he was intent on winning. "Any time now," Kate teased. "Okay, okay," said Donnie, "I think I have my man." He pointed to the (only) dwarf. "Him?" said Kate. "He hasn't done a movie in years. The last thing he did was that 'chocolate factory' movie." "Yes, but it's a classic. Anyone over thirty has seen it." "Right. I guess I'll be acting the part of a teetotaler tonight." "Don't be so sure. You haven't even picked yet." "I think I got this in the bag actually. Look who just arrived." Jennifer Joleen, a leggy redhead, hardly in her twenties, came through the front doors. Anyone who did not have their heads turned, now had their heads thoroughly turned. The men especially, who were almost drooling. "I can't believe she came," said Donnie. "I'm surprised too," said Kate. "Now drink up. Someone's already asked her for an autograph." "I never saw anything." "Okay, well, then we'll count this one. There she goes again." "Oh, gawd." "Hm, Warren David's not doing too well." "Give it some time." "Less thinking! More drinking!" Donnie poured vodka into a shot glass, and at Kate's behest swilled it in one go. It wasn't much, but he wasn't quite adapted to hard liquor. As it went down it burnt his throat. Kate clapped in delight. "Another one!" she said. "Are you serious?" said Donnie.

Donnie took another drink -- and another, and another, until he developed problems speaking. Unfortunately, Jennifer Joleen proved far more popular than the diminutive Warren David. She could hardly move with all those people surrounding her; she was by many considered to be the "it girl." "I can't believe my luck," said Kate, "I've only had one shot." "Yoooooooooooooooooooooooooou can't believe it?" said Donnie. "I can't believe it. I can't believe how lucky I am!" He climbed over the bar counter. "I have everything I ever wanted! Except one thing!" "Oh, er, what's that?" said Kate. "Yooooooooou!" said Donnie. "But I know how to win yoooooooooooou over!" "You do?" said Kate. Donnie ran through the crowd, drunk, and went to the top of the grand staircase. He looked below at everyone enjoying party, and pointed his finger downward. "This one's for you!" said Donnie. All looked at Kate, and then back to Donnie, Donnie who was now dancing, and singing quite poorly. "Hello?" he sang. "Is it me you're looking for? Every night in my dreams, I see you, I feel you. You take my breath away. I don't want to miss a thing. You are the only one, my everything. I care for no one else, but you. I thank God that I finally found you. Put your head on my shoulder. Love me tender. Whoooa, my love, my darling. I will love you, babeeeh, always. I'll make love to you. I'll hold you tight. All you need is love. I want to lay with you on a mountain. Something in your eyes makes me want to lose myself in your eyes. I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side, forever, and ever. Come on Eileen. So this is love. La-la-bamba." "Um... What?" said Kate. "Let's hear it for my Kate!" said Donnie as he jumped up and down, and clapped at the same time. "Hear! Hear!" He pulled down his pants to expose himself to all of his guests. (A full moon, as they say.) John, seeing this, ran up the steps and tackled down Donnie. Donnie struggled to free himself. "Can't you see I'm expressing my feelings?" said Donnie. "Master Donnie," said John, "we have to have a talk." "About what, Mr. Butler?" "Your behaviour, which is highly inappropriate. Everyone is staring." "EVERYONE? Including the Pope?" "Please..." "Let me go!" Then Donnie kicked John off and scrambled to his feet to run a course around the gawpers, including Jennifer Joleen, who shrieked at his nudity. Now John had no further options. He gestured to security. Security marched over to Donnie, pulled up his pants, and grabbed him on either side. "Unhand me!" said Donnie. "You work for me! I'm the boss? Who's the boss? Me!" But security continue dragging along Donnie. They picked him up, and literally tossed him outside. He crashed onto the lawn as his own doors behind him shut.

Chapter 33: Hang Over "I'm sorry about what I did," said John while sweeping the kitchen floor. "I only wanted to spare you embarrassment." Donnie drank a glass of water, trying to nurse his headache. "It's alright," said Donnie, "I made a right ass out of myself yesterday. I deserve to be treated like one. But mark my words, John, it won't happen again. I'm done with being an idiot." "Good for you," said John. He opened the blinds. "Jesus," said Donnie, "could you at least keep it half closed?" "Sorry," said John as he half closed the blinds. "Anyways, I think I'm gonna head out." "Where?" "The drugstore. I need something for my hang over." "I can go." "No. I need the fresh air." "Right-o. Shall I fetch the dog?" "Hoser? Nah. I'd prefer to be alone. Plus, he doesn't really recognize me at the moment." "I don't recognize you." "What's that?" "I said, 'I'll see you later.'" The fluorescent lights of the pharmacy were too much for Donnie's eyes. He went into his jacket pocket, and took out a pair of shades. He felt like a star as he kept them on his face, even while reading labels for quick hangover and headache cures. There were a variety of products just for this purpose. One such item promised to get rid of your pains by rubbing a stick of medicated product directly to your forehead. It was aptly called: "Directly to Your Forehead." "How does this even work?" Donnie thought aloud. "It doesn't," said a voice. "It's a scam." Donnie turned his head to see a beautiful, womanly face. "I hope you don't mind my advice," said Saundra. "I'm only giving a caveat emptor." "Not at all," said Donnie. "You're right. It probably is a scam -- like homeopathy." "Don't get me started on homeopathy." "I'll try." "Mm, so what's your name? I'm Saundra by the way." "Underwood. Donnie Underwood." "You have a very sexy voice, Donnie Underwood. Do you know that?" "No one's ever told me that before." "So, can I have your phone number now, or what?" "You cut straight to the chase, don't you, Saundra?" "When I see something good, I can't resist." "That's very flattering, but I can't give you my phone number." "Why? Am I not pretty enough for you?"

"Of course you're pretty enough. It's just... The thing is... Um... Well, you see... It's complicated." "I knew it! I knew you were out of my league! But noooo, I just had to try!" "Please, I --" "Why?! Why must I always be rejected?! I haven't been on a date in over a week! Have the gods cursed me!? From day one they always said my sister was always prettier than me!" "Um, hey, I think I'm gonna go to the cash register now." Donnie grabbed a handful of items, not even looking at them, and started walking away. "Go on then!" said Saundra. "Go and date my sister, why don't you!" Donnie left the pharmacy and walked along the plaza's sidewalk. He opened the top of his shopping bag and looked inside. He had purchased some Aspirin (good for headaches and heart attacks), a bottle of fat free water, Vitamin C, shark cartilage, and the pseudomedicine called "Directly to Your Forehead." "Damnitt," said Donnie. Obviously displeased, though he continued walking down rather than returning to the pharmacy for a refund. That's when a gang of teenagers approached him. Staying close together they rhythmically punched into their own palms. "Hey, you," said the leader. (Let's call her Alice.) "Yah?" said Donnie. "My friend likes you, can she have your phone number?" "Uh, what? A bit young, don't you think?" "She likes older men." "How old are you?" "Sixteen...and a half." "No, thanks." "Wait! Can you at least help us with something else then?" "What is it?" "We need some, uh, er, uh, errr --" "Out with it." "Booze." "I'm not getting you booze." "Please." "Well, now that you've said that -- no." "Aw, c'mon!" "Do you even know how to negotiate?" "If you do us this favor, we promise we'll do some favors for you. You're very good looking. We wouldn't mind." "Ew. Forget the favors. I'll get you the booze if you leave me alone, and stop dressing like, what is that? Those aren't even shorts. They're denim underwear with a zip at the front. And what's with the atrociously bright colors?" "Maaan, you sound like my dad. It's the style, okay? Now, can you get us some booze or what?" "Alright, I'm going. What do you girls want?"

"I dunno. Something with plenty o' alcohol, so we can get mad crunked." "Okaaay, I'll be back in a jiffy." "Really?" "Yeah." So, Donnie went into the liquor store, right beside the pharmacy, and picked up a case of wine coolers. He took it over the counter, where there was a female cashier. "I'll need to see some ID," said Virginia. "You really think I'm under 21?" said Donnie. "Don't gimme that attitude, pretty boy. Just because you're good looking doesn't mean you can always get your way." "Okay? Is a driver's license okay with you?" "It's the only thing we accept." Donnie went into his wallet and took out his driver's license. His driver's license had a picture of his former darker self. "Shit," he muttered. "What's the matter, Don Juan?" said Virginia. "Don't have an ID?" "I do," said Donnie, "but it's a bit outdated." "Is it expired?" "No. Three more years." "Then let me see it." "I can't." "Then you get no alcohol." "But they're wine coolers. They hardly contain any alcohol." "That's not what my Muslim friend says." "Ugh, fine. I'll let you see it." Donnie showed Virginia his driver's license. She held it beside his head to compare. She look back and forth. "What the hell is this?" said Virginia. "My driver's license," said Donnie. "Do you think I'm an idiot?" said Virginia. "This is a completely different man." "It is not a completely different man. The man in the photo is me." "So what, you found this off the floor or what?" "No." "It's a fake ID, is that it?" Donnie sighed. "Yeah, it's a fake ID. You got me." Virginia threw up her arms. "Are you serious? This is the worst I've ever seen. You could've at least made him the same race as you. Christ. Is every good looking person I meet stupid? Really? What were you thinking?" "I wasn't thinking." "That's what I thought. Now show me your real identification and no more jokes, alright?" "I can't. That was everything I had." "I told you no more jokes." "Fine. Never mind. I'll skip the wine coolers." "God, you're a weirdo." "I'm not a weirdo."

"You know what? You can buy your wine coolers. A person like you needs alcohol in their system." "You're very generous." "Thank you." Donnie left the liquor store and dropped off the case of wine coolers with the teenaged girls. "How much we owe you?" said Alice. "Forget about it," said Donnie as he kept on walking. "Thanks," said Alice. The girls gathered around, pleased at their freebie; for the following night they had a slumber party, in which two of them kissed. Chuck nearly turned Donnie away from his barbershop; he just could not believe what he was being told, and if he believed what he was being told he would probably be angry. "I know about that singer, who went from black to white," said Chuck, "but this is something else." "I'm not lying to you," said Donnie. "How is it possible?" said Chuck. "How can someone change their -- racial appearances? "I don't know. I never came up with the idea. I only used it. I wish I understood." "This is a prank." "It's not." Chuck sat down. "Welp, you do have the same voice. And you know everything he knows. I guess it must be true." Donnie let out a deep breath. "It is. Now, can you can please cut my hair?" So, Chuck and Donnie exchanged places, with Donnie sat in the barber's chair. "I've never done this before," Chuck said, holding his scissors. "Actually I have, but it was a real long while ago." "It's the same as nappy hair," said Donnie. "Except it's more free flowing." "I'll give it a shot. But don't gimme no lip if it don't come out right. I'm not an expert at this." "I promise I won't. I trust you." "Here goes nothing." Chuck sprayed Donnie's straight black hair, and pulled it back with a comb, and then he began cutting very slowly. "So!" said Donnie. "What've you been up to lately?" "Now wait a minute," said Chuck. "I have some questions for you first." "Shoot," said Donnie. "Why did you do it? Do you think we're ugly? Is that it? Didn't like your big lips and big fat nose?" "Don't make fun of me, but I did it for a, uh, a uh... "A uh, a uh, a uh what?" "A girl -- I mean a woman rather." "An' she didn't like the way you looked?" "I wasn't her type apparently." "Ooh, I know what that means."

"Anyway, why does it matter what I've done to myself? It's my own body, right?" "True, but I still think you made a mistake. You went through all that business for nothing." "It wasn't for nothing." "Donnie, if you were more confident in yourself, I bet she would've went running into your arms, regardless of how you looked." "Why do I always hear that advice? What's so important about confidence? Not that I'm not confident." "My friend, it's about instinct, ancient instinct. Back in the tribal days, you see, when lions, and tigers, and sabertooths were a real threat to women they would look for men with confidence. Why? 'Cause -- according to The Learning Channel (TLC) -confidence translates into a lack of fear. And if you're not scared shitless that means you can or will defend your lady against a dinosaur or whatever threat may come up. You see, confidence to them means bravery, and courage, and that appeals to their female instinct that says 'go and find a protector.' It's kind of like how they're attracted to men who are in shape. In shape, in the back of the female brain, means you can fight off a predator." "So, you're saying to clinch the deal, I need to get in shape and have more confidence?" "Yah, being an Uncle Cracker isn't enough." "What should I do then? For confidence?" "When I was a kid, maybe about sixteen, I took some Karate classes. Shotokan Karate to be specific." "And that boosted your confidence and everything?" "It did when I broke the bully's nose. Spinning back kick, right to the face." "Ouch." "He deserved it though. He killed my dog." "He killed your dog? What happened?" "He held it under water in the pool. Said he wanted to see which drowned faster: a dog or a cat." "Christ, what a psychopathic asshole." "Anywho, I think you should take up karate. It would be really good for you." "I dunno. In this day and age, will that really help me against guns or knives?" "It's not like in the movies, but yeah, it helps -- if you know what you're doing." "I'll think about it." "Don't think about it. Do it! And don't let me hear 'bout you just going on and practicing on a heavy bag. It's not the same thing." Chapter 34: Eye for an Eye Donnie hit his heavy bag with a series of punches and kicks. While doing this he pretended that he was beating the crap out of everyone he had ever hated. "Take that, you bastard!" he yelled. Whap-whap-whap! "Piece of shite!" he continued. "You ball licker! You swine!" And on those last words Donnie finished his work out. Soaked in sweat, he went to the bathroom for a cold shower. While washing up, with liquid soap and a loofah, he

noticed himself in the mirror. He looked at his -- "elephant trunk." He was quite pleased that it was the same size as before. For a time he thought that his surgery had only left it swollen and that it would change to a size befitting his color. "Thank goodness for that," he said. Then he flexed his other muscles, and admired the rest of his fair skinned body. Donnie sat down to watch television. It wasn't a thing he did too much, but this day he wanted to give his brain a rest. With remote in hand he flipped from channel to channel. Despite having a newfangled satellite-dish recently installed he found there was nothing of interest. Yawn. "What's the point of all these channels?" Donnie thought aloud. "It's only made me notice how repetitive everything is. How many times have I seen this hero's journey? And why do bombs only get disabled at the last second? How about a minute, hmm?" Okay. The TV did not give Donnie's brain a needed rest, but it sure did annoy him. He was especially annoyed when he went to channel three and started watching the entertainment show, where Kate was being featured. The news presenter (if you could call it news) talked about her love life, and all of her rumored beaus -- none of which were Donnie. This obviously infuriated him, so he quickly changed the channel. Then he found himself watching a romance movie. The romance movie was pretty cliche. Pretty typical stuff: a heterosexual relationship, where boy meets girl, girl meets boy, and the two die in a terrible, hideous accident. "Grumble, grumble," Donnie went, balking at the cheesy plot line...but then all of a sudden he started to weep uncontrollably. The actress in the film reminded him of Kate. Her death, though imagined, struck him somewhere in the gut. Now his hiatus with his darling had to end. It did not matter whether or not he was still embarrassed from what had happened before. He needed to hear her voice. So, he ran to the phone and dialed her number. "Hello, could I please speak to Kate?" he said. "'Ey, who is this?" said an unfamiliar voice on the other end. "Donnie Underwood," said Donnie. "Is this Mrs. Witman?" "I used to be Mrs. Witman," said Ms. Caraway. "Now I'm back to Ms. Caraway." "Uh, okay. Is Kate home?" "Are you a man, or a woman with a deep voice?" "I'm pretty sure that I'm a man." "Consarn it! She's tramped around enough already! Why don't you call back at another time? Let's say -- never?" "Ms. Caraway. I apologize, but I'm only calling as a friend." "Yaaah, you're all friends. You're all 'just friends.' I know what that means." "And what does that mean?" "I'll tell you about friendships between men and women, alright? It's doesn't work -- unless someone's gay, they both find each other very romantically and physically unattractive, or they're relatives, or through and through asexual, or of an extreme religious order, like radical Muslims." "I'm sorry. I'm not --"

"Listen! Any time there's sexual attraction that is not a genuine nor pure friendship. Because of the dynamic. The dynamic is different. When the other person wants to screw you or would screw you, given the chance, you are dealing with a sexual opportunist and a fink. A fink, who only treats you a certain way because he or she wants something that maybe you aren't ready to give up. It's falseness is what it is. It's like a salesman that befriends you because he wants to sell you a Toyota. You believe that he actually thinks you're young and handsome and good looking? Horseshit, I say! That's not a friendship. That's one person under a guise, trying to get their way, whatever that may be." "Well, I think --" "Or you can have the reverse! Say you hang out with your boss after work, and he calls you his friend, and you do friendly things together, buuut you're not really his friend. You're just trying to stay employed. See, what it is, it's motives and intentions which define a relationship." "What about when --" "I'm telling you! If you don't believe me about these so called male-female 'friendships' then why do you think men always groan about being in the 'friend zone' hm? Because they're not actually your friend, they don't want to be your friend, they want something else, something more, and they're scheming to get it. I don't know how to classify this type of relationship, but I like to call it 'friendships for fornication.' F -- ! One person is being friendly, so that they can get fornicated, but they're not actually your true friend. You'll see this when a guy is gunning for a girl. He gets all angry when she turns down his offer or god forbid gets into another relationship. But a real friend is happy for you when you get a boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever the hell. They don't get jealous, or wait for you to break up, so that they can swoop in. That's what true friendships are. You support your friend and are happy when they get things, even including people. Do you know what I mean? Do you get it? Am I getting through to you? Hm? Hm? Run it back to me. I wanna see if you understood." Donnie paused before trying to speak up again. "Okay, I think I get it," he said, slowly, trying to process the rant. "Um, having sexual thoughts about someone, who seems like your friend, makes you more than friends. Correct?" "Damnit!" said Ms. Caraway. "I said 'friends for fornication' not 'more than friends.' More than friends means boyfriend and girlfriend." "Can't it mean something else too?" "No! Words and phrases should only have one meaning and one meaning alone. Otherwise, it gets confusing, and you have this mess that we call the English language, which makes no sense at all. Like how come love and dove are pronounced in totally different ways? And what is up with words that sound the same but aren't? Beer, bear, and bare. Based on that, me just speaking, do you even get what I'm saying? "It's context, Ms. Caraway. If you say you drank a beer, then I know it's B-E-E-R and not B-E-A-R." "See, you're wrong, because I can in fact drink a B-E-A-R. Blend it up, make it into a smoothie, and now you're confused." Donnie was in fact confused. "Now, what was I saying before?" said Ms. Caraway.

"I forget," said Donnie. "Oh yeah!" said Ms. Caraway. "Male-female friendships... What a load of horseshit! You know, I thought my husband -- or my ex-husband rather -- was 'just friends' with his female friends, but then I come to find out he slept with each and every single one of them. And 'Karen,' he'd say, 'you're just being insecure and jealous.' Yeah! Because the good part of my brain actually knew what was going on. God, what a jerk off." "I'm very sorry," said Donnie. "Don't be sorry," said Ms. Caraway. "Just listen to what I'm saying: Any friend that would have sex with you is not your real friend, because that is disrespecting the boundaries, transmuting it into something else. You must have boundaries for a proper relationship. A real friendship is without lust or sexual desires. Emphasis on the real part." "Well --" "Are you saying sexual desires don't change what a relationship is!? Think about it carefully." "...Okay." "Let me give you another example. A bit more graphic." "Okay." "Let's say you had a babysitter, right, and this man babysat your kids." "Okay." "Then you come to find out that he's sexually attracted to them." "Okay -- what?" "But he doesn't follow his impulses -- but he would, if only they showed any interest." "That's sick." "Exactly. So you still think that he's just a plain babysitter?" "No." "Right. Now he's a babysitter-slash-pedophile, a wolf in sheep's clothing, because his sexual desires have changed what he is, and how he relates to other people. The dynamic is changed. The relationship is changed. See? I'm not all crazy, am I?" "That is an extreme example, Ms. Caraway, but I think --" "Hold your horses please! I have to deal with something... Whaaaaat!?" Donnie heard Ms. Caraway, Kate's mother, and Kate having a quarrel. Then Kate finally picked up the phone. "I'm sorry about that," said Kate on the phone. "I'm usually not much of a screamer." "That's okay," said Donnie. "Wait, who is this?" said Kate. "Donnie. Why?" "Which Donnie?" "...Underwood." "Oh. And what can I do for you?" "I'd like to see you." "I'm not really in the mood." "Please?"

"If you wanted to see me so badly, why didn't you make an appearance at your own party? "It's interesting that you bring that up." "Why's that interesting? "Kate. Please. I just need five minutes of your time. That's all I'm asking for." "I dunno." "I'm begging you. I have to show you something very important." "Alright. Fine. You got five minutes." "I'm on my way." When the rain cleared away, Donnie removed his hat, and rang the doorbell. Kate's mother came to the door. She stared out warily, with one eye half shut. She looked just like her daughter, except older, and with slightly different colored eyes. (Heterochromia.) "What do you want?" said Ms. Caraway. "I'm here to see Kate," said Donnie. "You don't look very black to me." "Sorry?" "She said a black man would be coming over." "Oh, uh, she must've been talking about my clothing,. See? I'm dressed all in black." Ms. Caraway poked Donnie in the chest. (For some reason he often got poked in the chest.) "Let me tell you something," said Ms. Caraway. "You men might rule the world, but you're nothing without us women. You got me? Cows make the cheese, not the bulls." "I agree," said Donnie. "A valid point." "And another thing," said Ms. Caraway. "If you do anything, anything at all to upset Kate, I will sue you into a fine dust for emotional distress. Don't think I won't. I'm a lawyer. I know about these things." "Kate says you're a patent lawyer." "Toe-may-toe, toe-maw-toe." Suddenly Ms. Caraway looked behind over her shoulder. Without saying a word more she left, and then Kate took her place. Wearing big black sunglasses, Kate stuck her head outside. Reluctantly. "I'm sorry about my mother," she said. "She's in a bit of mood today." "It's fine," said Donnie. "So, what can I do for you?" said Kate. "You don't recognize me?" "Alberto?" "Donnie." "Donnie Underwood?" Donnie nodded. Kate reached her arm out and gently touched his face -- then stepped back and shut the door. Slam! "Kate," said Donnie. He knocked. "Could you come back out? Please?" Kate came back out.

"Is this a joke?" she said. "It's not a joke," said Donnie. "It's really me. My voice, listen to my voice. It hasn't changed. Don't you recognize it?" "I don't know what you're up to," said Kate, "but it's not very funny." "I'm not up to anything, Kate. I've changed myself and you'll see I'm telling the truth when I'm ready to announce it to the world: I am Donnie Underwood." "Say what you told me again." "Hm?" "Say you're Donnie Underwood." "I'm Donnie Underwood?" "Like you mean it!" "I'm Donnie Underwood!" Kate gasped, knowing it was the truth, for her acting abilities allowed her to tell whether or not someone was lying. "It is you," she said. "It really is you! I can't believe it. How is this possible?" "The latest medical science," said Donnie. He pushed up his fedora to show his face. "What do you think? Don't I look handsome?" "It's sick!" said Kate. "It's disgusting! Why would you do such a thing?!" "I did it for you!" "That makes it even worse!" "Please, calm down, Kate. It's not a big deal." "So what now? Am I supposed to be impressed?" "Maybe." "Well, I'm not impressed, and quite frankly I think you have mental problems." "If you're going to criticize, then at least off those stupid bug-eyed sunglasses." Donnie snatched away Kate's sunglasses. There was a big black circle around one of her eyes. She tilted her head down in shame. "Why do you have a black eye?" said Donnie. "It's not what you think," said Kate. "Was it Garrett?" said Donnie, trying hard to maintain his cool. "I did something to annoy him." "I don't care what you did, you didn't deserve that." "I know." "Have you called the police yet?" "No. I'm not going to call the police." "Why the hell not?" "He did something to me and I did something to him. If you call the cops he's gonna rat me out. So don't even think about it." "What did you do?" "Donnie! I don't want you to interfere, okay?" "I have to do something." "You don't have to do anything!" "But --" "If you call the cops, or harass him, I will never speak to you again. Got it?" "But --" "Donnie, promise me you won't do anything."

"But --" "Promise!" "Okay, Kate. I promise." "Pinky swear?" "What's that?" Kate took Donnie's pinky finger and wrapper her own around his. Chapter 35: Double It A man, who was the spitting image of Donnie's former self, stood in shadow behind the curtains of a stage. Donnie was there giving him a pep talk. "I don't get it," said Luke, adjusting the length of his tie. "Why don't you just do this yourself?" "Like I said before," Donnie explained, "I'm very busy, and, for personal reasons, I'm not yet ready to tell the world about my transformation. So, if you'd stop questioning me..." "I'm sorry," said Luke. "I'm just nervous. I mean what if they find out? It's not like I'm your twin -- you know, when your were a 'brother.'" "Oh, what's your worry? They all look alike, don't they?" "Now, wait a minute." "Just joking. I have a self-deprecating sense of humor." "I dunno, man." "Luke. Relax. Only a few people know about my little secret right now, and you're pretty much my doppelganger...from fifteen feet away. Just remember not to get close to anyone. Say your speech to the students, inspire them, and then quickly leave. Also, try to avoid George and Allison. They're the reason I'm here, or you're here rather." "Okay." "Now, go out there and make me a role model to the children." As Luke heard a voice introducing him as a guest speaker he turned around ready to go on stage. But before leaving Donnie tapped him on the shoulder to remind him of something important. "Don't forget who you are," he whispered. With an alibi in place Donnie was free to do what he had planned. He paid a visit to the strip club, aptly called the Bearded Taco, and snuck to the back, where the alleyway was. There he hid behind a stinky green dumpster. He waited there for several minutes until a door along the building swung open. Out came Garrett and his stripper friend. The two took out packets of cigarettes and shared a lighter. They smoked without saying a word. Then Donnie sprang out with a ski mask, gloves, and a gun. He pointed it with one hand, gangster style (contrary to the Weaver Stance). Garrett and the stripper, Candy, instinctively put up their hands. Donnie was silent, unsure what to say or whether he should even speak. He could only stare. "What does he want?" Candy whispered. "He's just standing there." "I don't know," said Garrett. He addressed Donnie. "What do you want? Money? I can give you that, no problem."

Donnie pointed to Candy. "You can leave," he said in an altered voice, "but don't call the cops -- or I'll kill him as soon as you leave." Candy nodded and ran off, leaving Garrett behind. "It's just you and me, pal, huh?" said Garrett. "I'm not your pal," said Donnie. "Now, turn around, and slowly place your hands on the wall." "Alright," said Garrett, and he started to turn to the wall. But then of a sudden he spun toward Donnie, and lashed out with a swinging arm. Donnie's gun was knocked away. "Not so hard now, are you?" said Garrett. Donnie ran for his weapon; however, his efforts failed when Garrett grabbed him, and threw him to the ground as if he were nothing but a feather. Donnie, on his back, received the weight of a two hundred pound man on his chest. Garrett went for a ground and pound, and punched Donnie without relent. Donnie crossed his arms, hoping to stymie the force of the blows. "How do you like that?" said Garrett. "Huh?! Answer me, you bastard!" "Piss off," said Donnie. "Ha-ha-ha!" Donnie, wary and being beat, somehow caught sight of an empty beer bottle. He picked it up, and, with all his strength, smashed it against Garrett's face. The green glass shattered into a thousand pieces. Now Donnie slipped away as Garrett writhed in pain, and found another useful object just sitting upon the ground: a good, old fashioned red brick. He took it and bashed Garrett in the head, not once, not twice, not thrice but a dozen times. Garrett fell flat to the concrete. His head looked like it was a smashed pinata. Liquid and other speckled matter was oozing out. "You got knocked the fuck out," said Donnie. Then he wiped his bloodied mouth, left the alleyway, and disposed of his ski mask, gloves, gun, and anything else that could incriminate him. Into the trash cans they went. Donnie went into the hospital room and met with Kate. She was sitting somberly in a blue chair, beside Garrett, who was in a deep coma. He looked at peace as a tube (a drip feed) going into his body gave him nourishment. Kate stood up and rushed to give Donnie a hug. "Donnie, I can't believe you came," she said. "You're such a sweetheart. I was going out of my mind here." Donnie placed down the flowers that he had brought. Kate then noticed his face, which had a smidgen of makeup to cover his cuts and bruises from earlier. "Oh, your face," she said, "what happened?" Donnie gently pushed away Kate's hand. "No need to panic," said Donnie. "I just got into a little accident." "What accident?" said Kate. "I was, uh, going for a jog with Hoser, and I tripped, and tumbled down a hill." "You look like you fell down a mountain, not a hill."

"What can I say? I'm delicate." "Well, next time you --" Cough! Cough! Khaaagh! Kate looked aside and saw a young boy, the second patient in the room, coughing like mad. She went over to him, without any hesitation whatsoever, and gave him a glass of cool water to soothe his throat. While he drank she affectionately rubbed his bald head. "That's a good boy," said Kate. "Do you know him?" said Donnie. "No, why?" Kate replied. "Sorry. I thought you had a rapport with him." "A rapport? He's a little boy. I'm trying to help." "Yes. Of course." "Could you make yourself useful and get that blanket on the chair? I think he's chilly." "Sure." Donnie took the blanket from the chair, and handed it to Kate, who laid it atop the young boy named Daniel. "Are you comfortable?" said Kate. "Thank you, miss," said Daniel. "You're so polite," said Kate. Donnie cleared his throat. "Kate, I have to ask you something, once you stop fawning over that kid." "What is it?" said Kate. "Maybe this isn't the right time," said Donnie, "but I'd like to go out on a date with you sometime. Could we make plans?" As Kate was about to reply a man in a tuxedo, and white gloves, and a top hat appeared in the room. He stood in front of Daniel, holding a black suitcase. "Greetings, Daniel," he said, "I am the great Zanzini. I have come here to entertain you, and to delight you, and to distract you from the fact that you are slowly dying. Would you care to see a card trick?" Daniel shook his head. "Very well," said Zanzini. "I can do other things." He reached into his sleave and started pulling out handkerchiefs that were tied in a chain. "Huh, huh! What do you think?" "You are the worst magician ever," said Donnie. "I wasn't talk to you," said Zanzini. "So bug off." "You did say 'bug off,' right?" said Kate. "What're you gonna do next," said Donnie, "take a coin out from behind the kid's ear?" "I was planning that," said Zanzini, "but thanks for ruining it." He took out his wand and angrily pointed it. "Avada Kedavra!" "What are you doing?" said Donnie. "A curse on your soul!" said Zanzini. "I think you better leave," said Donnie, "you're upsetting the kid." Daniel covered his face with a blanket as Kate tried to comfort him.

"You haven't seen the last of Zanzini," said Zanzini. "But before I go --" He turned to Kate. "Could I have your phone number?" "Hey," said Donnie, "how do you know she's not my girlfriend? I'm in the room with her." "It's pretty obvious," said Zanzini. "It doesn't take a mathemagician to see that." "But how can you be so damn sure?" "Anyone can see there's no chemistry between you two. It's like a cat and a brick. The cat being the lovely lady of courze." "Well, Mr. Zanzino, I'll have you know that me and the cat lady have a date together tonight. So, ha, you're you out of luck." "Is that true?" Kate shook her head. "Look at that," said Zanzino. "She said no. That or she might be Indian." "Kate," said Donnie, "could I please speak to you in the hallway." Kate pinched Daniel's cheek, and then left the room to speak with Donnie in the hospital hallway. Donnie closed the door. "Why are we out here?" said Kate. "How could you embarrass me like that in front of that stupid magician?" said Donnie. "What did I do? I told the truth." "Couldn't you have lied?" "I don't like lying. Does that bother you?" "No. What bothers me is I hardly get to see you anymore." "I'm busy." "That's no excuse. We should go out some time. We should do things together. Just you and me." "I don't have time for dating, especially when it's not going to go anywhere." "You don't know that. Things will be different this time -- because I'm different. I'm literally different. Look at me. Don't deny it, I know you find me much, much more attractive than you did before." "Um..." "Don't you?" "Maybe!" "So, give it a chance then. Let's go out on a date. Something good might come out of it. You never know." Kate sighed. "Alright, fine. We can go out a date -- a friendly date." She took out her agenda. "But first let me check when I'm free." And she thumbed through it, going "hmm" as she saw each filled space. "Well?" said Donnie. "The second Saturday of next month," said Kate. "I should be free." "Wait -- today's the first." "Oh, too long of a wait? Should we call it quits?" "No, no! It's fine." "Good." "But don't forget, okay?" "I won't."

And Kate wrote it down in her agenda. She made a circle in red ink. Chapter 36: Seduction The weekend had arrived. Donnie was at an ATM, cautiously withdrawing some money, needing to catch a cab. He took his cash and went to the corner, where stood the traffic light. As he waited to cross a man came stumbling into his peripheral vision. The man looked well dressed, though he oddly had a swollen lip. "Excuse me, said Gregory to Donnie. I hate to bother you, but could I borrow a bit of money? I need to catch a cab for a very important meeting. I swear, I'll owe you back. I just need your address. Tell you what, said Donnie, who was ever skeptical, I need to catch a cab myself. Why don't we take one together?" "I'm not sure if we're going the same way though," said Gregory. "Where are you headed exactly? "The Carlton." "That new hotel? What a coincidence. I'll be going in that direction." "Are you?" "Yes, sir." "Great..." "One second, I think I see a taxi." Donnie put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. "Impressive," said Gregory. "I've never been able to do that myself." "I'd teach you how to do it," said Donnie, "but I have no idea how it works." A taxi cab stopped by the street side in front of Donnie and Gregory. They went into the back together and off they went (of course not without telling their destination). Donnie buckled his seat belt and glanced at Gregory's fat, swollen lip. "Not to pry," said Donnie, "but what happened to your lip? It looks pretty nasty." "Someone mugged me," said Gregory. "That's a shame," said Donnie. "Too bad I never got a good look at him. Now it'll be pointless telling the cops." "Hey. I probably can describe him for you." "Huh?" "Did the guy have big saggy pants hanging off his ass?" "How'd you know?" "They're all the same, aren't they?" "Ha! Yeah." Gregory looked out the window. "So," said Donnie, "you're going to the Carlton, huh? Are you a tourist?" "Sort of," said Gregory. "Well, I'm from a different state. I'm doing a presentation at the hotel." "What about?" said Donnie. "Seduction." "Seduction? "Seduction. I'm a seduction artist." Whats that?

"I seduce women." "And youre going to teach other men how to seduce women?" "Bingo." "And how do you seduce women exactly? What makes you so different? "Mind tricks. I mean -- psychology." "That sounds really shady." "It's not." "Mind tricks aren't shady? "Women do it too. So why can't men do it?" "Women don't use mind tricks." "Have you ever picked up a womans magazine? Read the articles. Its all about picking up guys and pleasing men. How to do it right, how to read them, where to touch them, what to say, et-cetera, et-cetera, et-cetera." "That's true, but I still don't think that --" "Why don't you come to the hotel, huh? Come for the presentation and I'll teach you what I know. Free of charge." "Uh --" "Come on, what've you got to lose besides time?" "Alright. I'll come to your silly presentation." "You won't regret it." The presentation at hotel conference room was underway. Gregory stood atop a platform, in front of Donnie, and dozens of other men, presenting his radical ideas through a microphone. We've all been there," said Gregory. "You look at that men with your lady and you say to yourself, 'Why him? Why not me? I'm successful, I'm nice. What's the problem? How come I can't attract anyone?' Okay, I have an answer for you. But before I tell you what I think, what I know, I want you guys to chime in. Why do you think you fail with the fairer sex?" A hand shot up. Gregory pointed. "Yes, you," he said. "Why do you think you fail with the 'fairer sex'?" The portly man answered. "Is it because my standards are too high? Or the fact that I have two chins?" Gregory laughed. "Ha! Your standards aren't too high, my friend. The problem is you think they're out of your league. You're putting the pussy on a pedestal. Don't put it on a pedestal. The women out there are not better than you. If anything its opposite. Gregory continued. Now, I have another question for you gents. How many of you think each woman is different, and unique, and individual? Nearly everyone raised their hand. Wrong!" said Gregory. "They are not unique and individual. They're not special. They're all alike. Seldom are they different. Just for example, how many women do you know of that go on dates and pay for both themselves and the man? It never happens! The best they'll ever do is go dutch, split the bill in half, and even then you're still regarded as a cheapskate. They are definitely not as generous as us males, huh?" "That's sexist!" someone shouted. "Not every woman is like that!"

"I know that," said Gregory. "Of course there are exceptions. But they are exceptions. My point I'm making is that most females, I should emphasize most, are not really as different as you think. They follow paradigms and patterns, and for that reason, you can seduce them. You can get anyone you want by exploiting these patterns." "Now," continued Gregory, "get out your pens and paper. I want you to write this down." He set up an overhead projector and projected an image onto a large white screen. He read them aloud as they were shown. Rules of Seduction: 01. You can only "game" a woman with whom you are prepared to fail. If you find yourself wanting her too badly you will never have her. 02. Exude extreme confidence. Fake it if you must. 03. Show some kind of value, skill, or talent to your chosen target -- but do not do it directly. That may come off as arrogant. 04. Win the affection of her friends. A woman is influenced by peer pressure. 05. Be hard to get. Or seem hard to get. Act like you're busy. Busy means important. 06. Have fun. Most women are just looking for fun. 07. Handle challenges from other men intellectually and psychologically. Outwit them. 08. Respond to any signs that she's not interested as if it were no big deal. Be cool. 09. When you have your target's attention playfully insult her. ("Neg" the target.) For example, "I like your hair, is that your natural color?" The more beautiful the woman is the more effective the neg is in gaining her interest, as she rarely hears comments of this nature. 10. Once attraction has been established punish any unwanted behavior by withdrawing and disinterest, but do not pout or have an attitude. Show her who's boss. 11. Alternate between attraction and disinterest signals in a push-pull fashion, until a connection is established. Play games a little. That way you appear more mysterious and playful. 12. Remember that you are the prize. She is not the prize, you are, and she has to win you. Donnie did not write down any of the rules, though he did agree with some of the points his presenter had made. Much of it was sold with enthralling stories of lust. But soon they came to an end when the presentation was finished. The men left the room, feeling more confident, as if they had found the silver bullet which would end their loneliness. Donnie met Gregory in the hallway. "What did you think?" said Gregory. "It's a bit patronizing, don't you think?" said Donnie. "What's patronizing?" said Gregory. "Like the tips you give -- don't stare at a woman's breasts too long, otherwise she'll think you're a pervert. Isn't that obvious?" "My friend, I'll tell you the truth. The people I teach aren't really good at social bullshit. I have to teach them the basics too." "I see." "You didn't think it was all crap did you?"

"Some of it was okay." "I get the idea you're still skeptical." "Maybe." "I know it all sounds silly -- it really does -- but let me prove it to you. I shall seduce a woman before your very eyes. Right here in the Carlton. I'll get three phone numbers from the first three women that come by." "What if they're married or have a boyfriend?" "Doesn't matter. Women can be easily manipulated." "Yeah right." "Watch." Three women passed by and Gregory had obtained all their phone numbers. One of them was even married. "The hell just happened?" said Donnie. "I've been studying women, scientifically, since I got my first hard on," said Gregory. "I know exactly what they want, and what they don't want. That's a very powerful thing... Anyway, do you believe me now?" "I have to admit," said Donnie, "I'm pretty impressed." "Thank you." "Soo, could you possibly gimme some personal advice about someone I know?" "Sure, but make it quick." "Well, there's this girl that I'm enamored with, and she's a, uh, very tough nut to crack. To say the least. And --" "Hey, I've already given you the tools you need. Once you apply my rules and tips you won't have any trouble at all." "But some of the things I don't think I could do. Like neg the target. I'd hate to intentionally insult Kate and play mind games with her. Also plenty of what you told us requires us to be jerks. Don't you have anything else? Some things you haven't told the others?" "No. Just try out what I've given you." "But Kate is smarter than the average woman. I don't think she'd fall for it." "Yeah, I've heard that before. Every guy thinks that his lady is special. Yet 98 times out of 100 it isn't true. My friend, listen to me good, my methods are tried and true. I know what I'm talking about." "Do you?" Gregory put his finger against Donnie's lip. "This is a fact," said Gregory. "I know everything there is to know about women, men, and their relationships. I know exactly how you feel. I know how you feel about that girl you are in love with. When you see her you get butterflies. When you hear her you shiver. When she touches you your body goes numb. And when someone says her name you get a stupid, silly grin on your face. She is unique. She is like no one else. She is everything to you, and everything you never had, and you want to be everything to her. Because she makes up for all the things you ever missed out on. She makes your world turn, and you're absolutely crazy about her. You go crazy any time you hear she's with another man. The thoughts of her being with someone else drives you to tears. The images of her kissing a person-not-you puts you into a deep, deep, depression. You wish you could expel all of the men in her life. You wish you could send all of them, all of her

male friends, exes, and people she used to date, and crushes off to some horrid island with wild man-eating animals. Because you want her so bad all to yourself and you don't know what you'd do without her. She gives you the will to live -- yet she makes you want to jump off a building. If only she'd give you a chance, she could see how good you were, how good you could treat her, and how you could show her true love for once." Donnie felt like he had been struck. "That's heavy stuff, man." "Yah, I felt like that once," said Gregory. "I fell in love with a woman, who I thought was my soul mate, and then she married my best friend. Ex-best friend rather. Now they have two beautiful kids and a summer cottage. Me? I'm all alone." "You're alone?" said Donnie. "Then how could I ever take advice from you?" "Sorry. No, uh, slip of tongue What I meant to say was: I was alone. But then I developed my system to seduce women, and guess what? Now I'm not. Now I'm the life of the party. I'm popular, and I'm cool, and I can sleep with as many women as I want to." "But I only want --" "SO, THAT'S WHY I'M HERE, MY FRIEND. To teach you how women think, so that you can have your own happiness, just like me, and you won't ever go through what I went through. If you follow my system I guarantee you can bang the drums all day, if you know what I mean." Donnie raised an eyebrow. "Really you should be thanking me," said Gregory. "I'm a god-send" "Thanks," said Donnie. "I'm sure you are." Chapter 37: Water Fountain The prison was cold and gray. Donnie, accompanied by a guard, went up a set of steel stairs and through a turning hallway that was lined with bars. He stopped at a thick metal door marked C10, which had a tiny window, not even big enough for a human head. The guard opened the door. Jay was sitting in his cell, reading a book, so absorbed into it that he did not even notice that he had a visitor. Donnie slipped a bill into the guard's pocket and went inside of the cell for his (probably short) visit. He cleared his throat. Once, then twice. Ahem! Ahem! Jay looked up. Yes, can I help you? Jay, said Donnie, its me. Me who? Your cousin. Donnie. Donnie Underwood." "Bullshit, yo! Who are you? Am I on hidden camera?" "Dont you keep up with the news?" "News? I don't even know what time it is." Donnie reached into his pocket and took out a newspaper article, about himself and his transformation, and then showed it to Jay. Jay looked at the article and then back to Donnie. "What do you think?" said Donnie. "If it's from a newspaper," said Jay, "it's gotta be true." "Uh, yeah, why not," said Donnie. "Hey. Why don't you have a seat?"

"I'd rather stand." "Okay. So, why you here again?" "I came to visit. Like I promised." "...You're late." "I'm sorry. I've been really busy." "Aah, never mind. Better late than never, right?" "Yes." Donnie decided to sit down beside Jay. "What're you reading there?" he said. "Nothing fancy," said Jay, holding his book. "Anne of Green Gables." "I didn't know you liked reading," said Donnie. "I never been a reader," said Jay, "but then I came here. Twenty three hours a day in your cell, no friends, no nothing -- you need something to do. So, I took a book and I liked it. When I read it I felt like I was somewhere else." "Hmm, I wish I brought a book with me in that case." "Huh?" "Oh. I have a present for you." "Really?" "Yeah." "But I dunno if you'll like it." "Anything is good," said Jay. So, Donnie reached into his front pocket, and pulled out...nothing. Confused, he searched every other area of his suit, yet the results were the same. He looked embarrassed and shrugged his shoulders. "I'm sorry," he said. "I must've misplaced it." "It's alright," said Jay. "These things happen." "I'll make it up to you," said Donnie. He looked at his watch. "But I have to go now. I have a date." He stood and knocked on the door. "Guard!" "Wait," said Jay, "what was the present?" "You'll see later," said Donnie, "when I return." The prison cell door slid open. Rays of sun sprinkled upon the park. Donnie and Sophia smiled at one another and chinked together their wine glasses. Donnie stared at Sophia, deep into her seductive eyes. He wished that he had done something like this earlier. "Getting over someone by using someone else is bound to work out," he thought. Sophia brushed back her gorgeous red hair. "I'm not exaggerating," she said. "Donnie, you are the kindest and handsomest man I ever met. I can't believe you're not married." "Yeah, me too," said Donnie. "But do you have a good sense of humor?" said Sophia. "I love a man who can make me life." "How about a joke?" "A knock knock joke?" "Sure." "Knock! Knock!"

"Who's there?" "Surprise." "Surprise, who?" Donnie turned stone faced and said nothing at all -- but he kept on looking at Sophia. Sophia waved her hand. "Hello?" she said. "Is anyone home?" "SURPRISE!" said Donnie. Sophia shrieked and dropped her wine glass. She put her hand on her chest and stared at Donnie like he was a monster. "Bad joke?" he said. Sophia burst out laughing. "Hoo-hoo!" she said. "You got me good!" Donnie smiled, satisfied with his joke that he had learned in 7th grade. Sophia smiled back, while looking him deep in his eyes. The two became silenced and then started moving toward each other, very, very slowly...when a ringing noise interrupted. Ring! Ring! "Aah, one second," said Donnie. He picked up his mobile phone from the picnic basket. "Hello?" he answered. "Where are you? said Kate in a distressed voice. Im having a picnic at the park," said Donnie. "I'm on a date." Without me? Yeah. Why not? "But I thought we were supposed to go out this weekend. Remember? I marked my schedule and everything." "It slipped my mind. Sometimes things slip my mind when I'm talking to an attractive redhead." "She couldn't be that attractive." "She's a bit more attractive than you, if you want my opinion." "You're lying." "Hey, you're not everyone's cup of tea." "Why you --" "Kate. It's been nice talking, but I have to go back to my date now. Talk to you later." "Wait, I --" Donnie hung up his phone and turned back to Sophia. "Now, where were we?" he said. Donnie continued on treating Kate as he did, using the lessons which he had learnt from his acquaintance named Gregory. Donnie, instead of making himself always available, made himself busy with plenty of women. Women who were possibly much, much more attractive than Kate. While he did not ignore her completely, he did show her his value, showed her that others were interested as well. Though none of this game playing made him feel any good his goals were now coming to fruition, and onward he went until he came to think that all the stars were

aligned. Then hed swoop in at Kates moment of weakness and be her white knight in shining armor. Today Donnie visited Kate. He brought her sweets, and flowers, and a bunny (to go against the tradition of teddy bears) when he heard that her father had gotten remarried. At the fall of the night he took her to the cliff side along the lake, a known romantic spot, and set up a bonfire. The two sat beside each other on a log, roasting marshmallows under the light of the moon. They were well into their conversation. "I don't believe you," said Donnie. "It's true," said Kate. "I'm so embarrassed." "You really don't know how to ride a bicycle?" said Donnie. "I never learned. I wanted to, but nobody took the time to teach me." "I can teach you." "Really? When?" "Right now." Donnie hopped onto an invisible bicycle and pedaled it around Kate, as if it were real. He rang his imaginary bell. Tring, tring! "You wanna ride my bicycle?" said Donnie. "There's room for one more. It's a tandem." "Um, alright," said Kate. Donnie stopped in front of Kate, who took a seat behind him. "It's easy," said Donnie. "Keep your body straight, put a foot on one pedal, kick off, and then start moving both legs. Momentum keeps you balanced." "Like this?" said Kate, motioning. "That's right," said Donnie. "Just like that." "Oh, no. Something's wrong with this bike." "What's wrong with it?" "The wheel is wobbly." "It is?" "Yeah. It's bent. I'm coming off balance. Oh no!" Kate grabbed Donnie by the waist, and, laughing, brought the two of them to the ground. "Whoa!" said Donnie. She crawled on top of him and put her face beside his. "I've never noticed how gorgeous you really are," said Kate. "You're so... Magnificent." "Magnificent, huh?" said Donnie. "I don't know about that." "Oh yeah," said Kate. "Magnificent. Definitely magnificent." She then rubbed her own nose against Donnie's nose for an Eskimo kiss. "Why don't we spend some time in your tent over there?" she said, pointing with her eyes. "What could you possibly want to do in there?" said Donnie. "You know," said Kate. "I see," said Donnie.

And Kate led Donnie into the tent that they had set up earlier, and the two zipped up the flap for privacy, though the silhouette against the fabric revealed what they were doing. It was intimate. Weeks went by. Weeks of: Romantic walks, visits to the cinema, the theater, the museum, and concerts, picnics, road trips, trips to the beach, plenty of restaurants, and even dancing, despite Donnie's two left feet. Things were going swimmingly -- yet there were still many doubts. Donnie and Kate walked together in the mall, not hand in hand, but closely enough. "Donnie," said Kate, "could we sit down? My feet are killing me." "I can carry your shopping bags if you want," said Donnie. "It's okay," said Kate. "I can handle it myself. I just need to sit down." *The large fountain in the middle of the mall, where people threw in coins, welcomed Donnie and Kate. The two sat along the edge while watching people pass by. Kate took off her shoes to let her feet breathe. "Ooh, my feet are so sore," said Kate. "I think I have a blister." "I can rub your feet," said Donnie. "No, that's weird," said Kate. "Whatever you want." "Okay then. You've twisted my arm. Have at it." Kate turned and put her feet atop Donnie's lap, so that he could properly massage them. "Be gentle," said Kate. "I will," said Donnie while massaging the sole of Kate's foot. "Mmm, that's good," said Kate. "A bit to the left." "Here?" "No." "Here." "Yes, exactly there." "Is that good?" "It's very good." At this moment Donnie sighed. "What's the matter?" said Kate. "Tired already?" "No, that's not it," said Donnie. "What is it then?" said Kate in her most sweetest voice. "Where are we?" "In the mall, of course, silly." "I mean in our relationship. I've not once heard you mention me as your -- what am I to you? I don't even know." "You're my best friend." Donnie's face turned red. He felt that all his moments with Kate were wasted, like he was jogging on a treadmill, going absolutely nowhere. He thought that all the attention he lavished upon her would have taken him to the "next level." Now he lowered his face into his hand in embarrassment. "What's the matter?" said Kate. "You don't like being my best friend?"

Donnie grumbled, saying something indistinguishable. "Speak a bit louder," said Kate. "Never mind," said Donnie. "It's not important." Then he saw something in the corner of his eye, a child, a toddler rather, crying uncontrollably. For some reason he went over to the frizzy haired girl, and, in spite of his somberness, tried comforting her. "Are you okay?" he said, not sure what to say to someone of this particular age. "Are you lost? Are you hurt? Do you want some ice cream?" However, the toddler kept on wailing; that is until her mother came around and scooped her up. "My baby!" she cried just before shuffling off. On that Donnie returned to Kate and he plopped down by her side. "Well, this was a waste of a day," he said. "It wasn't a waste of a day," said Kate. "I have a new boyfriend." "What?" said Donnie. "Who?" "You," said Kate. "You're my new boyfriend. It's okay I don't need a best friend. You can only be best friends with the same sex anyway, right?" Kate rubbed Donnie's chest. "Excuse me for a moment," said Donnie. "I have to go do something." Then he got up and did a cartwheel. Chapter 38: Yah, Mon

Time went by quickly, as it does when you are enjoying yourself. Donnie awoke in bed and looked at his girlfriend, who consumed his every thought, every minute, and every hour of the day. To him everything else, and everyone else, was secondary. He admired his still sleeping beauty and whispered into her ear, "Good morning, lovely." Kate awoke to these words and rubbed her eyes. She squinted at Donnie. Mm, what time is it? she said. Donnie read his alarm clock. 6:00 AM, he said. Oh, crap," said Kate. "Im gonna be late. She sprang out of bed and started dressing with her clothes that were tossed to the floor last night. Late for what? said Donnie. Im filming a movie, said Kate. Oh, that. I forgot. Its gonna be a big one. I can feel it in my blood. Well, I hope it doesnt take up too much of your time. I hate being away from you. How sweet. Kate went into the bathroom to brush her teeth. When will you be back? said Donnie. Erm, I dont know, said Kate while combing her hair. These things have schedules, but they never finish on time. Theyre like those idiots who do cable." "Will you be home before midnight?" said Donnie. "Ho, I wish. Can you guesstimate? Honestly. I dont know. Alright then. No problem. I can find something to do by myself until you come home. You do that. Kate started rushing out of the room. Donnie leapt out of bed. Wait, he said. What? said Kate. No goodbye kiss? said Donnie. Quickly now," said Kate. And Donnie kissed Kate goodbye. A book laid on Donnie's lap. His head rested on the table in front, where a dinner had been made. When the cuckoo clock struck three, the doors to the mansion swung open. Kate kicked off her shoes and ambled across the floor. Donnie perked up, but not too much. "Kate, I see you're home early," he said sarcastically. "Don't gimme that attitude," said Kate. "I've been working hard all day." "Working?" said Donnie. "You memorize lines and repeat them." "Do not get me started," said Kate. She took off her jacket. "I'm only teasing," said Donnie. "I get delirious at this hour, you know."

"Oh, okay then." "Apology accepted?" "Sure." "Anyway, I made you dinner. Would you care to sit down and join me?" "I have to go to bed." "Please." "Donnie, I can't eat your food. I'm tired and I have to watch my figure. It looks great, but I'll have to pass." "Again?" "Maybe when I actually have some time in my life." "But I worked so hard on it." "You have a butler, why don't you use him?" "This isn't about food. This is about the effort I put into it." "Babe, I'm sorry." "Never mind. It's okay. I just hate wasting food." "Then send it to Africa. They're always hungry there, aren't they?" "Oh, boy." "I'm teasing. You can tease. I can tease too." Donnie stood up and began clearing the table. The mashed potatoes were the first to go. "I'm really sorry about everything," said Kate. "But my career is taking off. And it's everything I wanted, and that means I'll be busy." "I understand," said Donnie. "I'm not complaining It's just that i love spending time with you, but lately that's not been happening a lot." "I know," said Kate, "and I'll make it up to you. Big time." "What do you have in mind?" said Donnie. Kate giggled and went upstairs. "This is quite a surprise," said Donnie. "I never expected anything like it." "I saved up," said Kate, "just for you." "Are you sure about this?" said Donnie. "I can help if --" "Nope! I've got this one. This is on me. It's the least I can do." "Still. It's a lot of money." "It's not as much as you think." "Maybe I can chip in?" "Donnie, please. You're insulting me." "Okay. Backing off. Gonna enjoy it." "Thank you." "Shall we go inside?" "I'd love to." So, Donnie and Kate entered their hotel room. Donnie dropped the luggage he was carrying off to the side and jumped onto the bed, where he stretched out his arms and legs. "I don't care what they say," he said, "half the fun is not traveling." "I hope you don't mind the room," said Kate, who was headed to the washroom, "it's the best I could do it."

"It's amazing," said Donnie. "The pineapple shaped lamp is really something else." "I'm glad you think it's amazing. To be honest I wasn't sure if you'd enjoy Jamaica. After all, it's full of --" "Full of what?" "Reggae music. Don't you hate reggae music?" "Yeah. Reminds me of the time when I visited Jamaica." Kate came out of the washroom and joined Donnie in bed. They both stretched out, relaxing under the orange sunlight coming in through their unwashed window. "Sooo," said Donnie, "should we get something to eat? Do you think this hotel has good food?" "We're not eating hotel food," said Kate. "We're going out and enjoying ourselves." "Sooo tired," said Donnie. Kate got off the bed and started pulling Donnie's arm. "C'mon," she said, "I have to finish my surprise." "Tomorrow," said Donnie. He put his hand under his pillow. "Please," said Kate, "we're not gonna be here that long. We have to make the most of it. And my surprise. Don't you wanna see what's my surprise?" Donnie grunted. "Oh, okay." Darkness fell upon the Caribbean Sea. A large boat floated aimlessly on the water. Contained within were Donnie and Kate, Donnie, who had his eyes tightly shut. "Alright," said Kate, "you can open them now." Donnie opened his eyes. "Whoa." "What do think?" said Kate, adjusting the strap of her basque (lingerie). "I got it just for you." "Hummm, it's very nice," said Donnie. Kate grabbed Donnie by his collar, seductively, and pulled him into the cabin room. She pushed him down onto the bed and began unbuttoning his shirt. When it was open she gently kissed his chest, between his nipples and slowly went down. She took off his pants to touch his "little friend." But Donnie all of a sudden stood up. "Wait," he said, "I can't do this." "What's the matter?" said Kate. "I don't want to have sex with you." "Why the hell not? "It doesn't feel right." "It can feel right, if you let me." "No. You don't understand.' "Help me understand." Donnie breathed out. "Would you have sex with me," he said, "if I didn't look the way I do right now?" "I don't know," said Kate. "Forget about it," said Donnie. "Let's forget this whole thing ever happened." "Tell me the truth. What's really bothering you?"

"You want the truth? I don't think you can handle the truth." "Spill your fucking beans." "Alright, I... I..." "Yes?" "I'm a virgin." "AAAH-HA-HA-HA!" "It's not funny!" "Oh, oh no, I'm sorry. I meant that in the nicest way possible. It caught me off guard. Really! It's cute! Now that I think about it that really explains a lot about your personality. So, you've never ever done it before, huh?" "No. Nothing at all." "Not even a wristy?" "What's that?" "It's Australian slang for hand job." "O...kay." "You seem appalled. Are you not into outercourse?" "What's that?" "There's intercourse and there's outercourse. One is not the other. I think you can use your imagination." "Um, I'd rather not. I'm feeling a bit queasy now." "Nervous, huh? Oh, Donnie. You don't have to be nervous. I don't care how inexperienced you are. We can still have fun. It's okay if you're a virgin -- at this age." "Well. See. That's the thing. I'm not bothered by the fact that I'm a virgin. I'm more bothered by the fact that you aren't. I know what you've done and to be frank it really disturbed the shit out of me. It literally gave me nightmares." "Donnie, you're being oversensitive -- and very insensitive too." "I'm not being oversensitive. Do you know what it's like being madly in love with someone, and then knowing, seeing, and hearing about all the things they did? Kate, I can't get these images out of my head. Any time I think about you -- in that way -- I think about all the people you've had before me, all the people you've kissed, and touched, and I just can't stand it. I feel so fucking frustrated. All I want is to be everything to you, but where am I amongst everyone else? How could you do that to me?" "I understand why you're so upset. But that's in the past, dahrling, in a time when I didn't even know we'd be together. Don't judge me by my past." "Technically everything's in the past. So if I can't use that to judge anything, then what can I use? Your plans for the future?" "Donnie, please..." Donnie sat down on the bed and put his head into his hands. Kate meanwhile kept her distance. She had no idea what her boyfriend might do next. There was a moment of silence, and then -"How many?" said Donnie. "How's that?" said Kate. "How many men have you slept with?" said Donnie. He lifted his head. "You don't want to know." "I do." "It's only going to upset you."

"How many, Kate?" "Donnie, that's an invasive question, and what I've done in the past is my business, and my business alone." "I've known you for how long, Kate? And you won't even give me the courtesy of telling me truth? How selfish is that?" "Maybe it is. But I'm not giving you a number." "Please. I'm begging you. I have to know." "Well --" "And don't downplay it either. Anything sexual has be included in your number. You can't skip out on something because it lasted less than a minute." "Alright. I'll tell you. I'll tell you about all my partners, everyone I've ever been intimate with." "Go on." "Okay, uh, uh, ummm..." "Go on!" "I'm counting." "Well?" "Mmmm, twenty?" Donnie leapt up and almost did a star jump. "Twenty?!" he repeated. "Twenty?!" "It's not a lot if you spread it out over the years," said Kate. "Why, if you do the math it's less than one per year." "Less than one per year starting from when you came out of the womb!" said Donnie. "Donnie. Is it really such a big deal? I got tested recently. I'm clean and disease free. What more do you want?" "It's not getting through your head, is it?" "I have an IQ of 130. I went to Oxford and graduated from my university summa cum laude. So, don't patronize me." "I'm not patronizing you. I just don't understand why you don't understand." "Who says I don't understand?" "Kate, do you want to hear what I have to say or not?" "No." "Well, you're gonna hear it." "Alright, go ahead, since I don't really have choice in the matter." "Don't be angry. I'm just trying to explain my point of view. See, the thing is... I think you're the luckier one in this relationship, because you have something that I'll never have. If we have sex you have the luxury of being the only one I've ever been with. That means you don't have to compete with anyone I know, past or present. Whatever you do in bed will be more than anything I have ever imagined." Kate continued listening. "But," said Donnie, "the reverse isn't true. To you, I'm just one of many. But I don't wanna be one of many, Kate, I want to be the one. Your one. Don't you get it? I don't like the idea that my first time will be your thousandth time. That ruins what should be a memory I'll never forget."

"Wait, wait, let me get this straight," said Kate, "you won't ever have sex with me, because I'm not a virgin?" "I never said that," said Donnie. "I just can't do it right now. I'm not ready." "When will you be ready?" "When my stomach stops turning, which might be never." "Donnie, you're being silly. It's just a number." "Age is just a number! What you've done is sickening." "I realize you're upset, so I'll let that one slide." "I'm sorry. I'm having a hard time dealing with this." "So, I guess that's it then, huh? No sex?" "Maybe under the right conditions." "What would that be?" "I'm thinking -- marriage?" "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Waiting until marriage? Are you from the 1950s? Should I make you a TV dinner?" "Is it such a terrible idea?" "It's not for me." Donnie turned ever so slightly, toward Kate, and put his hand on her knee. He looked at her desperately, hoping to save his manhood. "Just tell me something," said Donnie, "do you still think about them? Or am I the only one you think about -- in that way?" "You mean romantically?" said Kate. Donnie simpered. "Well," said Kate, "I'm not going to lie to you to spare your feelings. My past is my past and it's made me into what I am today. If I look back on it, with fondness or contempt, that's my prerogative." "So, your answer is?" "Yes, Donnie. I do think about the people I've met in my past. Sometimes." "But it doesn't turn you on, does it?" "Occasionally." "I see." "Donnie, you shouldn't ask questions if you don't want answers. I told you the truth. If you're hurt it's not my fault." Donnie stared, as if he were lost. "Could you please leave the room?" he said. "I'd like to lie down in bed now. I have a bit of a headache." "Oh," said Kate in a soft, demure voice, "I could get you some aspirin." "That won't be necessary," said Donnie. "It's not that type of headache. But thank you for asking." "...Goodnight," said Kate. "...Goodnight," said Donnie. Kate quietly left the room. She went outside into the open air of the ocean, where she leaned against the railing of their rented boat. She looked down and saw her reflection. Stars surrounded her face.

When Donnie took his drink from the stewardess, Kate leaned toward him, letting her shoulder fall against his. "Sooo," she said, "this is gonna be a long flight, huh?" No reply. "Hey, is your chair as uncomfortable as mine?" she continued on. "I think I need a new seat." Kate then sat on Donnie's lap. "Pretty comfortable," she said, "but something's missing." She took Donnie's arms and used them as arm rests. "Ah, that's much better. But something else is missing. That's right. My chair doesn't love me anymore. Maybe I should be more affectionate with it? Give it a bit of my attention?" Kate turned her head and kissed Donnie, one, two, three, four times. As this was going on a child directly in front sprang up from his own seat, and turned around to watch. Kate paused. "Why did you stop?" said nine year old Stevie, ever curious. "I don't mind public displays of affection. Really." Kate stroked Donnie's face, using the tips of her fingers. "Why don't we get out of here?" she said. "But we're on an airplane," said Donnie. "I know," Kate said with a devilish grin. Then she took Donnie by the hand and dragged him into the airplane bathroom. There they released their frustrations, and, consequently, joined the Mile High Club. Chapter 39: The Biz Donnie's car sped down the highway, though John today was driving. John looked in the rear-view mirror at Donnie and lifted an eyebrow. "That's quite the grin you have on," said John. "What can I say?" said Donnie. "I'm in a good mood." "Is it what I think it is?" said John. "I don't know. You'll have to be more specific." "You know what I mean." "Why, I'm afraid I don't." "Don't make me say it." "Say what?" "Erm..." "Go on then." "Erm... Sex." "Oh! Sex! SEX! Yes, I did have sex! Why, thank you for asking about the sex, which I had. The sex was quite enjoyable. I think the best part about the sex was the sex." "Why don't we change the topic?" "Sure, okay." John tapped the car's steering wheel, thinking what to say. "Erm, well," he said, "you must be really excited. You'll be meeting loads of celebrities today, won't you?"

"Aah, I don't really care about celebrities," said Donnie. "To be honest they kind of annoy me." "In what way?" said John. "They're just so fake. Their boobs are fake. Their personalities are fake. The height that they say they are is fake. Everything about them is fake." "Wait a minute --" "What?" "Oh, nothing. I see the studio coming up ahead." After getting through the studio gates, John took Donnie over to stage #9, a big, boxy, off-white building that looked something similar to a hangar that could hold many, many aircraft. Donnie stepped out of his car and waved goodbye to John, then, holding a paper bag bearing Kate's name, went alone inside. There he noted the building's black walls, and the large lights hanging upon a grid of tubing. Turning his head just slightly he came to see Kate, her male costar named Rex, and a film crew of no less than ten. The director shouted directions at them. "I want to see more passion!" said Harris. "Remember where you are and all that you've been through! I want you to inhale her! "I can't do this," said Rex Manning (not his real name). "I'm too hungry." "Yes, that's what I want, be hungry," said Harris. "Be hungry for her." "No. I'm meant I'm literally hungry. My stomach is grumbling." "Think about eating later, will you?" "I'd rather eat right now." "But the catering crew isn't even here." "I'll go out and buy something. C'mon. Let's all go for lunch." "We're not going for lunch, Rex. This is a very important scene, and we're on a deadline." "Boo-fucking-hoo!" "I don't like this attitude you're giving me." "Is that so? Then why don't you find someone else to fill my role? Hm, how about that?" "Fine, we're going for lunch. Everyone take a bloody break! Five minutes!" "Twenty five minutes." "Ugh -- TWENTY FIVE MINUTES!" When the film crew dispersed, Kate pulled away from Rex, and looked him sternly in the eyes. "Why are you looking at me like that?" said Rex. "Didn't you hear? Lunch!" "Actually," said Kate, "I wanted to ask you a question first. Could you tell me how my acting was? I'd really like your opinion." "I don't care what anyone says," said Rex. "You made me look great." "Right. But about my acting abilities?" "Look, I gotta go, toots." "Wait, I --" "Don't worry, Kelly. You're doing fine. Believe me when I say this: You are by far my favorite object of affection." "Uh, thanks?"

"Think nothing of it, Kelly." And on those words Rex walked away -- and in his place came Donnie. "Donnie," said Kate, "you came!" "Of course," said Donnie. "Did you think I wouldn't come?" "Well," said Kate, "I thought maybe secretly you don't like what I'm doing." "Now why would I not like what you're doing? I support your career, Kate. I love that you're living your dream." "Really?" "I wouldn't have it any other way." Kate pinched Donnie's cheek. "Ooh, you're so cute!" "Erm. speaking of food," said Donnie, whose face was red from blushing, "I brought you a present." "Oooh, what is it?" said Kate. Donnie gave Kate the paper bag that was in his hand. She looked inside and saw a cupcake and assortment of baked goodies. "I made it myself," said Donnie. "Um, I appreciate the gesture," said Kate, "but I can't eat any of this." "Not even one cookie?" said Donnie. "Not even one cookie," said Kate. "How about a nibble?" "Rats nibble." "Sooo, not even a little piece?" "Donnie. I'm not eating anything. I have to watch my weight." "But you're so skinny already." "That's because I don't eat any junk food. And I'm not skinny, I'm slim." "But I see you eat junk food all the time." "Just drop it, will you? I'm not eating your food." "Oh, alright. Never mind." "I mean -- I'm not eating your food right now. I can have it later on one of my off days. Okay?" Kate smelled the paper bag. "God, it smells so good," she said. "Believe me, Donnie. I want to eat everything in here right now. Unfortunately, I can only have a salad." "A salad, huh?" said Donnie. "It's not the tastiest thing in the world," said Kate, "but if you come with me to the restaurant I'm sure I'll enjoy it a lot more. What do you say? Sweetie pie?" Donnie smiled. "Sweetie pie is my nickname for you." Kate and Donnie found a hamburger restaurant, with a salad bar, where coincidentally Rex was visiting as well, but instead of a salad or a burger he was having french fries and a pizza. The place did not serve pizza. "Are you sure you don't want any?" said Kate while holding a fork with a leaf of lettuce. "It's good -- for you." "No thanks," said Donnie. "I have enough green in my milkshake." "Aw, okay," said Kate.

"I'm sorry," said Donnie. "I'm just not into rabbit food. I mean really, what is the appeal of salad?" "Okay. It's not as good as regular food, but it's low in calories, it has some type of nutrition, and it's relatively filling. Also it's ethically-sound." "Mmmaybe it would taste better if you actually put some dressing on your leaves." "No, no. That would make it too fatty. See, what I do is I keep my dressing on the side. Then I dip my fork into it, pick up the flavoring, and eat it along with my 'leaves.'" "You made that up yourself?" "Pretty clever, huh?" Donnie looked over his shoulder and stared at Rex in the corner eating a slice of pizza -- backwards and crust first. Kate reprimanded her boyfriend by making a noise with her tongue. "Sssst! Stop staring," she said. "It's incredibly rude." "Look-it him eating," said Donnie. "It's so weird." "It's not weird," said Kate. "He's just a human being, like you, or me." "Really? I thought he was a giraffe." "Quit joking around, Donnie, and turn your head back here." "Do you think I should ask for his autograph?" "No, I do not think you should ask for his autograph. He's eating." "So?" "Celebrities hate when people ask for their autographs while they're eating. It's really annoying." "Why's that?" "Think about it." "Well, I suppose that --" "NYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" "What was --" "NYAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" "Are you --" "NYAAAAAAAAAAH!" "Stop that! What're you doing?" "See. Isn't it annoying when people interrupt you when you're trying to do something?" "I understand...but I still wanna get an autograph." "Why do you even want an autograph so bad? It's just a scribble. It won't even be his real signature. Plus I thought you hated celebrities." "I can make exceptions. Can't I?" "Whatever you're going to do, Donnie, don't do it." But Donnie got up from his seat and walked over to Rex, who was now stuffing his face with lukewarm french fries. Donnie cleared his throat. "Mr. Manning," said Donnie. Rex hesitantly looked up. "Mr. Manning," said Donnie, "I just wanted to say that I loved you in 'Forest Park.' You are an incredible actor."

Rex stopped chewing for a moment, then said, in a matter of fact manner, "Tell me something I don't know." Donnie was dumbfounded. He wanted to say something back (like "screw you, buddy") but knew that he couldn't. So he returned his table, where Kate sat waiting, and pouted. "How'd it go?" said Kate having seen everything. "When you stay up waiting for Santa Claus and he doesn't come," said Donnie. "That's how it felt. And yes, I know, you told me so." "Poor baby," said Kate. She smiled and pinched Donnie's cheek. "Why don't you let me make it up to?" "How can you make it up to me?" said Donnie. "Well, you know, I do have my own movie trailer." "And?" "There's a bed inside." "And?" "We can make good use of it." "And?" "We can go to sleep -- if you know what I mean." "And?" "Um, get intimate?" "And?" "SEX, DONNIE. We can have sex." "And? Oh, wait a minute...!" "He-he-he." Kate put down her half-eaten salad and left the quaint hamburger restaurant to visit her trailer with Donnie, one of the many fringe benefits of being an actress. Chapter 40: Bright Lights Billboard advertisements for the soon-to-be released movie "Heavenly Heights" covered the city landscape. That and the constant television commercials earmarked tonight's much anticipated premiere. The street was lined with cars, and rabid fans kept behind steel barriers, desperately hoping to a get a glimpse of the stars, and even more desperately hoping to be seen by them. A red carpet laid on the gum-stained asphalt leading to the cinema. Donnie sat inside a limousine, along with Kate, and Rex, waiting for the exact moment to exit. "Look at all those people," said Donnie. "How long do you think they've been waiting?" "Since yesterday," said Kate. "No kidding?" said Donnie. "Yeah, what a bunch of idiots," said Rex. "How can you call them idiots?" said Donnie. "They stood out in the rain and wind just to see you. They love you." "Love?" said Rex. "They don't even know who I am." "Alright, maybe not love," said Donnie, "but they really do like you. Doesn't that count for anything?"

"If I did bad movies," said Rex, "do you they think they would give a damn enough to go and see them, and support me, purely for the fact that they like me. No, because they don't like me. They like what I do, what I produce, not actually me." "Are you always this cynical?" said Donnie. "I'm not cynical," said Rex. "I'm realistic. I'm what you call a realist." "Is that so?" said Donnie. "Yes," said Rex. "And what about you? What do you consider yourself as?" "I think deep inside," said Donnie, "I'm an optimist. I know it doesn't show sometimes, but I think that's what I really am." "Hmm," said Rex. "How quaint." He looked away. Now, Donnie turned his head to Kate, who staring out the window. She was either looking at her reflection or the hoards of people awaiting her. "Kate," said Donnie, "how come you're looking out the window like that?" "I'm thinking," said Kate. "About what?" said Donnie. "If this movie's a hit," said Kate. "I mean, if it goes really huge, what's gonna happen to me? Do you think I'll be the same? Or maybe it'll all go to my head." "You'll stay the same," said Rex. "It's the people around you that change." "How's that?" said Kate. "You'll get a lot of attention from people, who would normally never pay attention to you," said Rex. "And they'll be trying to use you." "For money?" said Kate. "Not just money," said Rex. "Other things too. Sex. Fame. Popularity. Or sometimes all three. It'll make you paranoid." "Are you sure?" said Kate. "Yup," said Rex. "They'll all want a piece of you. They'll want to have what you have. They figure if they get close enough to you they can have a bite. The last girlfriend I had always got extra frisky in public. She wanted to show off." "But my friends won't change though, right?" said Kate. "No," said Rex. "They'll change." "Well," said Donnie, "I for one won't be changing. Not one bit." "Heh, you really believe that?" said Rex. "Yeah, why not?" said Donnie. "Being famous is more difficult than you think," said Rex. "I wouldn't be surprised if you flipped your shit and headed for the hills. You seem like that type." Donnie glared. "Anyway," he said, "why don't change subjects, hm?" Rex shrugged. "So, what is this movie about exactly?" said Donnie. "You haven't even told me yet." "It's a surprise," said Kate. "But I don't like surprises," said Donnie. "Either way I'm not telling you." "C'maaan." "Patience, my dear. Like they say, 'Patience is a virtue.'" "Yes. Oh, by the way -- when the bloody hell is this premiere gonna start?"

"We can only leave when we get the signal. When we get the signal the limousine is going to drive us to the front of the red carpet, then someone will open the door, and Rex and I will step out...buuut you have to stay behind. And while you stay behind the driver will take you somewhere else to wait some more, until we get into the cinema. After that you can come in to see the movie too." "I asked you about the time, Kate, not the logistics." "You sound annoyed, Donnie." Donnie folded his arms. "Well, it's just that I thought we could walk out together," he said. "You know, as a couple." "I'm sorry," said Kate. "We can't let people think that we're a couple. I have to walk out with Rex, so that people get it in their heads that he and I are dating." "Why?" said Donnie. "It helps the movie sell better." "If the movie's good it should sell itself. You shouldn't need to fabricate a bunch of lies." "It's not a bunch of lies. I'm not lying to anyone. I'll never say outright that Rex is my boyfriend. I'm just suggesting that maybe he is. The conclusions they draw are up to them." "But don't you think it's a bit extreme? I mean you said I can't even sit beside you in the screening room. Who is going to see us in the dark?" "The people beside us. Anyways, why are you making such a fuss all of a sudden?" Rex went bottoms up on a glass of champagne, which was available in the limousine refrigerator. "You ought to have drink in you," Rex suggested to Donnie. "It''ll loosen you up." "No thanks," said Donnie. "I prefer to be sober for." "Hold that thought," said Rex. "I see someone waving to us." As Donnie looked through the window the limousine driver drove forward and stopped center in front of the blood red carpet. When the door swung open Rex and Kate held hands, and stepped outside together to the sound of cheering. Then the limo sped off and parked to the side, where Donnie could only watch the glamorous events taking place. He squinted, looking at Kate, who was flirting like a bona fide French lady, being held here and there, being touched about the waist, and hugged and kissed on every available cheek. This all might have been digestible (with a large glass of water), but only in the case it were not in any capacity reciprocated -- but that was not the case. It was a kiss for a kiss and whatever was being handed out. Donnie swore that he could feel his blood actually boiling. "Boy, o' boy," said Donnie, "ain't this dandy? Stuck in here while my girlfriend pretends she isn't my girlfriend. The goddamn nerve." He seemed to have a sudden change of heart. "Or maybe I'm just being too sensitive? After all, what she's doing is just an extension of her job, right? It's just an act, all an act, isn't it? Isn't it?" Colin, the limousine driver, looked in his rear view mirror. "You talking to me?" "Well, you're the only one here," said Donnie. "Hey, sorry," said Colin. He turned around. "I'm not used to people talking to me on the job."

"Like to keep to yourself, huh?" said Donnie. "No, my customers like to keep to themselves." "Oh... But on the upside it must be an interesting job though, right? I mean you must get to meet some real characters in here." "Definitely." "Got any stories?" "Hoo! Let me think here. Welp, umm, last week I picked up Shirl Ragner." "Shirl Ragner? That cute little girl from the movies?" "Hey, she just turned eighteen." "Okay, what's interesting about that?" "Welp, she came in here last week, took some ecstasy, and proceeded to have an orgy. She was airtight, if you know what I mean." "Oh, God. That's disgusting. She looks like a baby." "Hey, I tried to squirt them with water to break it up, but they thought it was another type of fluid." "Ew. What the hell is wrong with people?" "You have to remember that she's a child actor. And right now she's at that stage, you know, not quite a girl, not yet a woman. And she's experimenting, and trying things, trying to find out what it means to be an adult... And apparently that includes foursomes, MDMA, and miniskirts. Not that I have any problems with either of those." "Okay, the drugs I get. Who doesn't like to get high? But the sex? What's it? A foursome? What's that got to do with being an adult? I'm almost twice her age and I've never even done anything close to that." "Welp, the thing is people think she's this little cutesie actress, so she's trying to change their perception of that. She doesn't wanna be typecast and now she's struggling with her good girl image, trying out the dark side. It's a cliche career move I don't much care for, but whaddaya gonna do?" "Whatever her reasons are, I still think it's nasty." "Hey, it's not as bad as when I picked up Madonna. Normally, I don't call people animals, but wow, wow, wow. I almost rolled the limousine over when she pulled out her big black --" "Uuh, could you turn on the radio? I'd like to listen to some music now." "Hoo, sure. No problem. What station?" "Mmm, 52.9 please." Colin reached out his arm, turned on the radio, and tuned in for station 52.9 (fiftytwo-point-nine). When a sound came through the speakers he immediately covered his ears. The noise was heavy, loud, and disturbing. At least according to him. "What the hell is this?" said Colin. Donnie bounced to the music. "You don't like rap music?" said Donnie. He sang along. "Ante up! Ante up! Kidnap dat fool! Ante up!" "This is terrible," said Colin. "How can someone like you listen to something this? It's so repetitive and simplistic. It's just a loop with some guy talking. Where's the music?"

"You don't understand what rap is," said Donnie. "In rap the music is secondary. What's most important is the poetry -- the lyrics. It's the heart of every song. And you need to listen to it carefully to have some appreciation." "Okay," said Colin. His ears perked up. "Let me listen to the song they got on now. Okay. He's talking about: bitches, bitches, bitches. Move out of the way, bitch. He's got 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one. NICE! Hey, by the way, do you know what the word misogynist means?" "I admit that isn't the greatest example of what rap is, but it isn't all like that." "Yeah?" "Yeah. Anyway, what's your idea of good music?" "Lemme see what I can find here." Colin fiddled with the radio and stopped on a station, filling the limousine with heavy metal rock music. He put his arm in the air, and then banged his head up and down (aka head banging), and he sang something that sounded like, "Meh-mehna-meh-meh! Meh-mehna-meh-meh! Meh-mehna-meh-meh!" "Are you kidding me?" said Donnie. "What is this? I can't even understand what the singer's saying. He's just yelling at me. I feel like I'm in school." Colin stuck out his tongue and swung it left and right. "Please," said Donnie. "Stop that. You're creeping me out." Colin turned off the radio. "Thank you," said Donnie. "Nah, I turned it off because we hafta go," said Colin. "I can see Rex and Kate headed for the theater... Wait for it... Aaand they're in... Welp, okay, let's go then!" "You're driving," said Donnie. "I knew that," said Colin, then he put the limousine into drive, and rode up to the movie theater as close as possible. "Well, I guess I better get going now," said Donnie. "Thanks for the ride, uh --" "Colin," said Colin. "Oh, by the way, would you like me to open your door for you? I know that might sound like an odd thing to ask, but some men get insulted by the gesture." "I wouldn't be insulted," said Donnie, "but I can open my own doors. Thanks." Donnie slid Colin the largest bill he had, as a tip, and then stepped out to go inside the movie theater. After going past security he was allowed inside the screening room, where Kate, Rex, and their director were all sitting down. Donnie looked around in the darkness, seeing whether a seat had been held for him. No, it seemed that there was nowhere to sit -- except for the empty chair by the column, and the festively plump woman, who looked to be maybe in her mid to late 40s. "Okay," said Donnie, "Kate forgot to reserve a seat for you. It's no big deal... Is it?" So, he walked over to the only available spot and sat beside the lonesome lady, who thought that she should put her hand atop his knee. "Excuse me," said Donnie. "You seem to have your hand on my knee." "You like it?" said Jenna. "I apologize," said Donnie, "but I'm feeling a bit uncomfortable." "Why don't you sit on my lap? You could be much more comfortable, if you did." "I'd rather not."

"You sure about that?" "One hundred and ten percent." "Mm, I love men who play hard to get. Are you hard...to get?" "No... Yes... Uh... I don't know. Excuse me please." Donnie tapped the shoulder of the man in front of him and whispered into his ear. "Sorry to bother you," said Donnie in his lowest voice possible, "but you don't suppose we could switch seats, do you? The woman beside me is hitting on me." "Is that so?" said the man. He glanced behind. "Yes," said Donnie. "You should be thanking yer lucky stars!" "Umm, she's not really my type." "You pretty boys are way too picky." "Alright. Never mind." "Fine, I'll switch." "Thank you." "But it's gonna cost." "Really?" "You want to switch or what?" "Okay. How much?" "What you got?" "Ah, forget it. I changed my mind." "Your loss, pal." Donnie returned to his seat, where he glanced at Jenna, and gave her an insincere smile -- to which she pinched his cheek. "You're so sexy," said Jenna. "Sexy boy!" "Uh, I should tell you that I have a girlfriend," said Donnie. "And she's in the theater. So if you wouldn't mind not groping me, then that would be great." "Ho yeah! You have a girlfriend!" said Jenna. "Then why aren't you sitting with her?" "I don't know." "You're such a liar." "I'm not lying." "Are you brushing me off 'cause I'm unattractive?" "I think you look fine. Actually, you look very good for your age. What're you about forty two, forty three?" "I'm seventeen!" "Oh... Sorry." "It's okay. I got other things going for me." "Like?" "I'm a virgin." "Really? That's pretty rare in this day and age. What's the reason? Are you religious?" Jenna fluttered her eyelashes at Donnie. "Yes," she said. "I am. I'm saving myself for marriage." "That's very admirable," said Donnie.

"I've done absolutely nothing," said Jenna. She paused. "Except oral sex, anal sex, and a few thorough fingerings. Did a facial once, but I found that wasn't for me. Much too sticky. It ruined my wonderful hairdo." "Come again?" "Oral. Anal. Fingerings. One facial." "Why are -- ew. What the? I don't think you count as a virgin anymore." "What do you mean?" "Well, let's look at that terminology. Oral SEX. Anal SEX. Both have the word 'sex' tacked at the end, sooo, technically you've already had sex; therefore you're not actually a virgin. And the fingering thing that's kind of a gray area. The facial, I think that's way worse than all the other things you've done. I mean what is the appeal of that? Why would you want spunk on any part of their body? What sort of depraved slag does that?" "Stop being so judgmental. It's not like I licked a butt-hole. My friend did that once. He's regretted it since. Namely because his partner had the runs." "Don't go off topic. You're not a virgin, okay? You've already sex." "You're wrong. None of what I've done is sex. Sex is strictly an act geared toward procreation. If it's not that, then it's not sex. Plus, these things I do are really loopholes given to us by our Lord and savior, Jesus Christ. It's a gift. So I'll be darned if I don't obey his laws and do things, such as dry humping, as much as I please." "Now you've done dry humping too?" "Who hasn't?" "Me." "Well, you gotta be careful. My friend did it once with his jeans on, going commando. Cut his wiener right open." "Hmm... Do you know what a Sodomite is?" "Yes. They're from the Bible." "Yes and Sodomites are people that do sodomy. Sodomy is anal sex, and to a degree oral sex. So, I was thinking, doesn't that mean you're a sodomite? Worse than a sodomite, I think, since you've done a bit more than the aforementioned. Would I be wrong?" Donnie watched Jenna, awaiting a retort. But all Jenna had to say was, "You're such a douche bag." "Excuse me," said Donnie. "Did you call me a douche bag?" "I'm not talking to you anymore. I don't talk to douche bags." "I don't know why you're calling me a douche bag. You're the filthy person who started this conversation." "Shut up, douche bag!" "Oh, boy." Donnie bent forward to the man in front of him. "Excuse me," said Donnie, loudly without trying to conceal his words, "could we switch seats now?" "Okay, you got the cash?" said the man. "I got the cash," said Donnie.

Then he retrieved two bills from his wallet, of the highest denomination, and gladly gave them to the man in front. As he settled into his new a presenter for the movie, which was about to be seen, appeared before the crowd. The jovial producer spoke into a microphone. "Hello, hello, everyone! And thank you for coming to our movie. I appreciate each and every one of you, who voluntarily came. But before we begin I'd like to say a few words, as this event greatly reminds me of my childhood. You see, when I was a young in boy in 1939..." The crowd tuned out. But when the speech finished, (what seemed like) some months later, they suddenly became re-energized, and clapped unrestrained. Finally, the lights came down and the movie "Heavenly Heights"began. Donnie sunk into his chair as images flashed before his eyes. He wrung his hands together, paying attention to every line in case there would be a quiz. He looked at the others, and saw that they were enthralled. Absolutely enthralled. He turned his attention back to the screen. "Heavenly Heights" was a heavy romance drama, with tragedy, heart break, and of course love. Love there was when two hours into the movie Kate and Rex finally ran off as lovers. They went into a field of flowers, spun to the ground, and ripped off each other's clothes. Kate grabbed Rex around the shoulders and caressed his arms passionately as they went tte--tte. They kissed without relent, like there was no one to judge or watch, and their nude bodies entwined. Donnie felt numb. His hands shook and sweated. He breathed heavy, trying to avert his gaze. But he couldn't help it, he couldn't turn away. He had to watch every detail. Then the lights came on and clapping filled the room. The audience stood for a standing ovation for all the actors, who took the applause with delight. Rex Manning smiled while Kate blew kisses and bowed. Donnie stared at her, stared at her revealing lacy red dress, and hoped that she would see his disappointed face. But he ran out of the screening room before she could even notice. He braced himself against the wall in the lobby. He muttered to himself, "Relax. Calm down, Donnie. It's just a movie. She didn't cheat on you... It just seems that way. When she comes out hug her, congratulate her, tell her what a good job she's done. Don't be immature. Be supportive. Act like an adult for godsake -- here she comes." Kate walked out. Arms linked with Rex she waved to the crowd that followed, who, vying for her attention, clumsily blocked her into a circle. Now security was on edge, wondering where all these extra people (fans) had come from. Donnie shouted Kate's name -- "Kate!" -- but found his cries drowned out by that of others, saying the exact same thing. Frustrated he tried pushing forward to meet her, but was kept away by the people sticking their out their arms for autographs and pictures. "Kate!" said Donnie. "Kate!" His voice became louder. "KATE!" He started to scream. "KAAATE! KAAAAATE!" But Kate could not hear. She was too busy soaking up the attention, whether she liked it or not. So Donnie, who by now had a sore throat, left the movie theater, and took a stroll outside. Then wandering around he stumbled into a bar, a real dive, open for business 24 hours a day.

"Excuse me," said Donnie when he went inside, "do you have anything with alcohol?" Chapter 41: Where In The World Ten to five in the morning a car appeared on the road. Swerving erratically it came up the curbside, and knocked down Donnie's mailbox. Donnie stepped out of his car and made a note to have it fixed. Then he went over to the double doors of his mansion, and reached into his pockets, trying to find his keys, which proved somewhat difficult in his state. "Bloody keys," he said. "Where are you, stupid things?" As Donnie looked on the ground, stooped down, the door in front of him opened. Kate stood there, dressed in a robe, with arms folded, and eyes fully glaring. "Do you know what time it is?" she said. "Do you actually have any idea what time it is? "I could tell you the time," said Donnie, "but that would put clock makers out of business." "That isn't funny," said Kate. "Where were you? I was worried." Donnie got to his feet. "You shouldn't worry. It'll put wrinkles on your forehead." "Well, I was worried. I was looking for you everywhere at the after party. You should've been there." "I wasn't interested." "I thought you were a fan of Rex." "Not anymore. He's a stupid asshole." "Hey, I work with him. Watch what you say... And why do you hate him all of a sudden?" "Does it even matter?" "Anyway, why don't you come in? It's cold outside. I don't want you to catch a cold." Donnie went inside with Kate, and, on Kate's insistence, they sat down in their living room to have a discussion. "Now, what's bothering you?" said Kate. "Nothing," said Donnie. "I'm fine. Everything is fine. You're fine. I'm fine. We don't need to talk about this." "Can we at least talk about something?" said Kate. "Did you like my movie?" "Should I be honest?" "That's the only way to go, isn't it?" "I HATED IT." "What? Why?" "You think that what you made is a movie? I felt like I was watching a porno. I felt sick to my stomach." "My acting makes you sick, hmm?" "You asked for my opinion." "But just to be straight here... You're jealous, right?" "Sick not jealous."

"Donnie. OK. I'm not an idiot. I do understand how you feel...which is why, I admit, I tried keeping the movie a secret in the first place. So, from the bottom of my heart, I apologize for hurting your feelings. I'm sorry. Do you forgive me?" "I don't know. Are you really sorry? Or is this just your acting?" "Of course I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I only did the movie because it's an opportunity for my career." "Hmmm..." Kate put her hand on Donnie's knee to comfort him. "But can I ask you a question?" said Donnie. "What is it?" said Kate. "Did you enjoy it?" said Donnie. "Enjoy what?" "Your sex scene with Rex." "I..." "Well?" "I found it a bit awkward, but it wasn't too terrible." "Was he a good kisser?" "I..." "Well?" "Yes. He was a very good kisser. I enjoyed it. Is that what you wanted to hear?" "How could you say something like that? I had trouble enough watching you naked through that thing you call a movie, and grinding your crotch against another man, and now you're telling me you actually got off on it? That's great. Everything's come full circle. You got off and the audience got off too." "Hey. Isn't that the point of show business? To arouse people?" "Oh? So you like that, huh? You like when people look at your scantily clad body, in your movies and magazines, and wank off? Because that's what they're doing." "Wank? Why does that sound so familiar?" Donnie did a jerking off motion with his hand to which Kate look disgusted. "You're so nasty," said Kate. "Not as nasty as you," said Donnie. "What do you want me to do?" said Kate. "Quit acting?" "No. I'd never ask that of you. I just want you to be a bit more considerate of me." "And how should I do that?" "Choose movies that don't make you out to be some object only to be desired. Like why do you always have to be someone's girlfriend or lover? How about doing something really kick ass?" "Such as?" "A female warrior -- with a sword." "First off, they don't make movies like that. Second, you can't tell me what to do. I'm a grown woman. I'll do whatever script or movie that helps my career. I busted my hump to get where I am." "So what's more important to you? Me or your career?" "Don't even ask me that question. You're being so goddamn invasive."

"Okay, what's the point of even talking to you if you're not going to answer my questions? And how am I being invasive? I've literally been inside of you. My question couldn't be more invasive than that, could it?" "You're so vulgar." "I'm not vulgar. I just... I just don't understand you." "What's to understand!? I have a career and I think it's important." "But more important than me?" "You just don't get it, do you? I can't just turn on a dime and start doing movies that are suited to your palate. It doesn't work like that. I have an image to maintain, which I've painstakingly built from the ground up." "That's all you care about, your image?" "Don't act like I'm the only one in the world who does it. Everyone cares about their image -- some more than others." "Well, it bothers me." "I don't care." Donnie stood up, but Kate took him by the arm, and pulled him back down. "Wait," she said, having a change of heart. "What do you want?" said Donnie. "I'm going to bed." "Don't go to bed angry. It's the number one relationship tip therapists give couples. You shouldn't go to bed angry. It'll collect and build up inside." "Kate. I'm not angry. I'm, I'm frustrated." "Are you?" "Or maybe I'm having male PMS." "That's a serious condition." "I know." "Should I cure it with some kisses?" "No. I'm highly allergic to that particular cure." "Impossible! No one can be allergic!" "Not true. I've had this allergy for quite some time now." "I'm feeling skeptical. Let me see if you're actually allergic or just lying." "Wait. No, Kate, I --" Kate climbed atop Donnie and started smothering him with kisses. (Her solution to everything it seemed.) Donnie tried resisting, but after the twentieth kiss on his neck, or something around that number, he turned into a pile mush. Things went well that morning, he thought. Things went well the following day too when Kate and Donnie were out and about, spending much needed time together in the city's high street shopping district. Donnie had on a shirt with a popped collar to hide the hickey on the side of his neck. "You look so silly like that," Kate teased. "Why don't you let me put some make up on it?" "No way," said Donnie. "A man should not wear make up." "Plenty of men I know wear makeup," said Kate. "There's nothing wrong with it." "The people you hang out with aren't normal. Theyre in the entertainment industry. They're weird. And I know this because a lot of them want to be normal, which is something a normal personal never desires. Wanting to be normal is for weirdos."

"You think I'm a weirdo?" "Yes. But the most beautiful, wonderful weirdo ever." "Awww..." "Hey, check that out." "What?" While waiting for the light to turn green Donnie pointed out to Kate a young couple going at it, kissing, and groping each other as if no one else was around. "Aww, how cute," said Kate. "Ass grabbing is cute?" said Donnie. "I didn't notice that part," said Kate. "It's gross." "It's not gross." "It is." "Why are you so annoyed? Don't you like young love?" "First, young love is a misnomer, because it isn't actually love. Real love doesn't go away after a couple months or two weeks. We should call it exactly what it is: young lust. Or how about temporary mutual attraction?" "I don't think that'll catch on." "Sure it will, if we start using it." "I won't be doing that any time soon." "Whatever the case is, I do think it accurately describes teenaged relationships." "Okay. So, to be clear, basically you're saying that no teenager has ever fallen in love, because of the short duration?" "You know what real love is, Kate? An old couple. I see two senior citizens, two people that have been together for longer than our combined age, and I think that is true love. They've been through everything together, and when one of them dies by falling down the stairs it's going to be really depressing." "I don't care what you call it. I still think young love -- or 'young lust' according to you -- is still cute. I mean look at them. Look at those two young people. Not a care in the world. See how caring and gentle that young boy is with his girlfriend. He's caressing her neck, and nibbling on her ears. And now he's trying to put his fingers down her pants, and, okay, now it's getting gross." Kate winced as she watched the young couple trying to make love. (Or is it lust?) "You know," said Donnie, "the grossness doesn't annoy me as much as the arrogance. They're so arrogant." "It's arrogance now, is it?" said Kate. "Yes," said Donnie. "Because when people make out in public they're not just doing it out of 'love.' They're trying to draw attention to the fact that they are desirable and wanted. Oh, they could do it anywhere else, but nope, they have to do it in public. Because they want everyone to see, to see that they're not alone, and that they are attractive to the opposite sex. It's really pretentious." "It's pretentious now, is it?" "Why else do it then? Are you so horny that you can't keep yourself from slobbering on your partner for a minute?" "Some people are just that passionate."

"C'mon. Are you saying that there is never an ulterior motive in a 'public display of affection'? What about when people do it to get back at their exes, or someone who's rejected them?" "Ever the cynic, Donnie. You really think that everyone who swaps fluid out in the open is trying to show off?" "Of course! Why do you think you never see ugly couples doing that sort of thing? Because there's nothing to show off. They're not proud. If they were they'd be sliming each other up and down the streets. It's like when you're fat, you cover up, because there's nothing to brag about -- but when you're toned and in shape you wear all those things you never wore before, and you're taking pictures of yourself, and going jogging in the park, showing off your legs, and ass, and tits, and whatever you can, for no reason other than to make yourself feel good. And then you're eating up all those compliments men are giving you, and it's all like om-nom-nom-nom, 'Oh please, please, give me some more delicious compliments! Make me feel better about myself!'" "What? Anyways, I don't care what you say, Donnie 'cause you're wrong. I've seen plenty of ugly couples kissing, and, at that, very vigorously." "But do they do it while sober?" "Uhm, maybe." "Look. It's like this, Kate. You got a nice car you show it to everyone you can. You got a shit box you're trying to keep your head low. It's a universal rule. You have something nice, you're proud, you wanna show the world." "Wait a minute, then how come you never kiss me in public? You're not proud of me?" "That would make me a hypocrite, Kate, and you know how I don't like being a hypocrite." "Oh, alright --" But then Donnie surprised Kate with a quick kiss on the cheek. As she smiled, pleased, they crossed to the other side of street. Walking on they saw a police officer ticketing the teenaged couple, for seconds ago the two had literally been rolling around on the ground (readying for "business"). "Where're we going?" said Donnie. He was still holding Kate's bags. "Not that I can't handle it, but my arms are sorta getting tired." Kate pulled Donnie into the lingerie shop. "Madame's Lingerie" it was called. "What're we doing in here?" said Donnie. "Shopping for some knickers," said Kate. "I think I should sit this one out," said Donnie. "I don't know what to do here." "Nooooo, I'm gonna try some things on and you're gonna help me out." "How would I do that?" "Suivez-moi, s'il vous plat." "Hmm?" "That means: Follow me, please." Kate went to the clothes rack and randomly picked out some pieces. She put them into Donnie's arms and then the two went to the area in front of the changing rooms. Kate opened a door. "Alright," she said, "let's go in." "Wait, isn't this illegal?" said Donnie.

"Only if I don't want you in there," said Kate. "But it's against store policy." "Get your butt in there!" Kate and Donnie went into the change room, which was more like a walk in closet. Kate shut the door, and then took her items from Donnie, and put them to rest on the bench. She took off her clothes. "What if we get caught?" said Donnie. "Don't worry," Kate said seductively. "We won't... Now, if you wouldn't mind handing me something." Donnie gave Kate some boy shorts, which look like panties -- but like shorts too, the shortest shorts you could ever imagine. Kate put them on and spun around. "What do you think?" she said. "Sexy or cute?" "I don't know," said Donnie, "but it's really good. What's it called again?" "They're boy shorts," said Kate. "Why's that?" "I guess they look like shorts that boys would wear." "Boys would never wear shorts like that. If they did they'd get their asses kicked." "I take it you don't like the female fashion?" "It's ridiculous. The clothes women wear is ridiculous." "How'd you figure?" Kate tried on a bra. "Well," said Donnie, "I imagine it in reverse. A woman wearing a man's clothes looks normal, right?" "I suppose," said Kate. "But flip that," said Donnie, caught up in another rant, "and it would look disturbing -- to say the least. I mean what if we wore what you females wore? What would anyone think?" "Personally, I'd find it kinky." "I mean gimme your opinion outside the entertainment industry. Not your actor's opinion, you know, 'cause you guys aren't exactly normal." "What do you mean not exactly normal?" "Wanting to be seen all the time for a living, that's not normal." "Don't exaggerate. I don't want anyone to see me on the toilet." "Umm, anyways, back to what I was saying..." "Clothes?" "Yeah, what if we men wore what you women wear? Let's say I came to you in a miniskirt or a dress that stopped short of my crotch. Or short shorts that barely covered my arse. Or a shirt that let a good portion of my boobs stick out. Or perhaps a pink thong riding up my crack. What would you think of that? What would you think of those things, hmm? Appropriate for the public? Or the eyes of children?" "First, you don't have boobs. Second, I don't really see the problem. All of that is fashionable, for men or women. Scottish people wear dresses, don't y'know?" "So youre going on what's acceptable by Scots? Do you know what they eat? Haggis! Maybe you've heard of it? Minced heart, lungs, and the liver of a sheep, with oatmeal, and onions, boiled in its own stomach." "That's no worse than Balut."

"What's that?" "It's a Filipino dish. They boil a duck egg with a duck embryo inside, then crack the top, pour on some salt, and scoop it out to eat with a spoon." "Ew... But you get my point about women's fashion, right? It's ridiculous. Short clothes in the winter, clothes that don't offer any sun protection in the summer, shoes that give your feet cramps, underwear which won't keep your fluids in should an accident happen, and things so tight they cut off your circulation and must be pulled off with another pair of hands. Really. You should never need assistance when trying to remove your jeans." Kate tried on another piece of lingerie. "I think you're being over critical of the female species," she said, while adjusting her knickers. "Men are just as flawed, if not more so, in the fashion department. Have you seen the way those kids wear their pants?" "They're called baggy pants," said Donnie. "Right," said Kate. "You think that what I wear is abnormal, what about that? I don't even understand how they walk, much less run." "Maybe you're right," said Donnie. Suddenly a knock came at the change room door. "Ey! What's going on in there?" said a woman outside. "Are there two people in there?" Donnie spoke up in a squeaky, pseudo-female voice. "No, dear! It's been a mistake! Go back to your honey badgering now!" Kate looked at Donnie and said through her teeth, "What was that?" Donnie shrugged. The woman outside kept barking. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to open up," said Gwennifer. "There's a no sex in the change rooms policy, which consequently means one at a time." Kate opened the change room door just enough so that one eye was out. "We'll be out in a moment," said Kate. "Hey!" said Gwennifer. "You're Kate Witman! You are, aren't you?" Kate sighed. "Yes, yes, I am." "No wonder there are all those people outside." "Who's outside?" "I dunno. They all have cameras. I'm guessing they're photographers." "Paparazzi?" "Is that what they're called these days?" "Yes." "Anyways, I'm sorry to bother you. Take your time, Ms. Witman. And again I'm terribly sorry. If I knew it was you, I wouldn't have bothered you in the first place." "Thank you. I appreciate your kindness." When Gwennifer left, Kate and Donnie exited their change room. They took their items to the check out and noticed the little mob that was outside, the photographers taking pictures through the window. "Boy," said Gwennifer, "it must be great being famous, huh?" She scanned the barcode on a pair of panties. "Everything looks nice when you're on the outside looking in," said Kate.

"Oh, god," said Gwennifer. "You must think I'm an idiot. Of course. Why would fame ever be something positive? It must be such a hassle." "I have good days and bad days," said Kate. "Oh, I hope you don't hate me for saying that," said Gwennifer. "I really do have appreciation for what you do. It must've been hard working your way up like that and becoming successful. I mean you go to Hollyweird to pursue your dreams, and you get loads of rejection, and people trying to exploit you, and you're working long hours for next to nothing. And on top of that it must be confusing, too, I figure. Because you're an artist, right? You have to be different, and have your own identity, but you're a human too; so you feel the need to belong, and be like everyone else." "That's kinda profound," said Kate. "Oh, I fantasize about these things when I got nothing to do," said Gwennifer. "Usually when I'm driving. It helps pass the time. I think what it'd be like to be famous. I always look at the good side of it, but in reality it must be horrid. Like I said: a huge hassle." "Not entirely," said Kate. "There are some benefits to it. Like I get to go to places most people don't get to go to. They put me in the front of the line, if I'm at the back. I get free stuff for nothing. And strangers compliment me all the time -- it's great, but it's still something I'm trying to get used to. To be honest, I don't really believe them when they say I'm the most beautiful woman in the world. Second maybe. But first!? That's a stretch." Gwennifer laughed more than she should have. "Wah-ha-ha-ha! Yah!" "Uh, okay," said Kate, "see yah later." When the transaction between merchant and customer finished, Kate and Donnie headed for the front door. As they stepped out all the photographers in wait came out to surround them. Donnie put up his hand, trying to cover his face, but Kate just strolled down the sidewalk like they didn't exist. "These people are getting on my nerves," said Donnie. "Relax," said Kate. "Ignore them. Keep your eyes ahead and on the horizon." "They're blocking my horizon." "Alright, well, they're there. There's nothing you can do about it." "Couldn't we call the cops? Isn't this stalking?" "Legally no. We're on public property." "Ugh! I hate being photographed!" "Then do something about it." So then, without warning, Donnie took Kate by the hand and started to run. There was no choice but to follow. "Agh," said Kate, "I can't run in these heels." "We're almost there," said Donnie. "Where?" said Kate. "The red light," said Donnie. Donnie and Kate jumped onto the street, despite a sign that said "no walking." They maneuvered around the screeching, honking cars, and successfully got to the other side (which meant not dying). They turned a corner and lost the paparazzi.

Kate dabbed the sweat off her forehead with a handkerchief when she and Donnie paused to catch their breath. "Omigod," said Kate, "we almost got killed." "Yes," said Donnie, "but we have our privacy now, don't we? And if I may quote one the greats: 'All's well that ends well.' Right?" "Maybe," said Kate. As Donnie was about to reply his stomach unexpectedly growled. "Ooh, I don't like the sound of that," he said. "Why don't we get something eat, huh? Maybe I can give my one arm a rest." "Where should we eat?" said Kate. "How about a pizzeria?" said Donnie. "I'm sure that we can find one that makes salad." "I'm not a rabbit," said Kate. "I don't always eat salad. Maybe today I'm in the mood for something a bit more palatable." She took a moment and looked around. "I know!" she clapped. "What about that chippy over there?" She pointed with her eyes. "Fish and chips?" said Donnie. "Aah, I'm not much a fish guy. Actually, I'm thinking about becoming a vegetarian. It seems like the ethical thing to do." "Stop kidding around," said Kate. "Everyone loves fish and chips." "Even vegetarians?" "Okay. Not the vegetarians." "We should think about the vegetarians. They're good people." "What's with your sudden obsession about vegetarians?" "I dunno. Sometimes my mind wanders... Anyway, yeah! Let's go have some fish and chips." "I hope you're not taking the piss, mate." "The what?" Kate giggled, then she and Donnie went into the chip shop called: "Perry's Fish and Chips." They took a seat in the corner, away from the window. The place was quite dead, and had a genuine English feel. "Forgive me for saying this," said Donnie, "but you seem a bit excited." "I haven't had real food in sooo long," said Kate. "Also this place kinda brings back memories." "You've been here before?" said Donnie. "No, but when my parents were on a break my dad took me to Europe for my eleventh birthday." "Fancy." "I know it sounds spoilt, but I used to be really obsessed with the little mermaid 'cause my dad used to read me fairy tales before going to bed; so, naturally, I asked him to go see the famous statue in Denmark, and, eventually, he said yes." "How was it?" "A bit disappointing." "Going to Europe was disappointing, huh?" "Well, the thing is when we got to visit the mermaid statue one of her arms was missing."

"Who would do that?" "Jerks! But anyways we traveled to England and that's how I got hooked on fish and chips. For some reason I thought that was the proper food for mermaids. Oh and mushy peas." "And Marmite?" "No way. Marmite tastes like arse." "Of course it does. It's brown and sticky." A waitress appeared behind Kate. "Hello," said Sandy. "Are we ready to order?" "Yes," said Donnie. He put down his menu. "I'd like some spotted dick and faggots. He-he-he." "WE will have two orders of fish and chips," said Kate, "and two diet colas. Never mind my boyfriend's order please. He's just taking the piss." "Taking the piss?" said Sandy. "Over what? Dick and faggots?" Donnie giggled. "Could we please get our order now?" said Kate. "As you wish," said Sandy. "Thank you," said Kate When Sandy went away Kate leaned on one of her arms and stared at Donnie. "So did you get a good enough look?" she said. "What's that?" said Donnie. "I noticed you checking out the waitress," said Kate. "I, I, I most certainly was not." "Oh relax, Donnie. I'm not trying to make you feel guilty. I've been on hundreds of dates. This behaviour isn't exclusive to you." "Okay, maybe I took a teensy weensy look. But only for a microsecond." "You think she's pretty?" "Aaah --" "I think she's pretty. Far prettier than me, actually." "No. No, no, no. No one is prettier than you." "Not one person on this planet earth is prettier than me? Off the top of your head you can't name one person?" "I'm afraid not." "Aren't you sweet?" At this moment Sandy the waitress returned. Like requested she had two orders of fish and chips, and two diet colas. She set them down onto the table. "Thank you," said Donnie. "What's that you have in your arm there?" said Kate. Sandy looked nervous. There was a booklet tucked beneath her arm. "Oh, this," said Sandy. "Um, it's a book." "About?" said Kate. "I collect autographs," said Sandy. Donnie looked at Kate. Kate smiled. "Isn't that nice. Would you like my autograph?" "Would I!" said Sandy, then she took out a marker, and handed her book over to Kate.

Kate thumbed through the book, looking for a blank page. While doing so she browsed all the signatures that were there. "Wow," said Kate. "You have quite a collection here. You even have Stanley Stuart." "That was really hard to get," said Sandy. "I did awful things to get that." "Like what?" said Kate. "I had to kiss another girl," said Sandy. "Oh," said Kate. "That's not too bad." "Why, a young lady like you," Donnie said to Sandy, he pulled up his pants, "should not be doing that sort of thing. That's not very becoming of you, now is it?" "Really?" said Sandy. "Because I also gave someone a hand job." She made a jerking motion. Donnie looked disgusted. "Yes," he said sarcastically, "how interesting. Anything else you have to share?" "Let's see," said Sandy. "I showed off my bewbs to a crowd of people for plastic beads, and I entertained a group of Javanese businessmen." "Maybe I shouldn't be asking this," said Donnie. "How exactly did you entertain these Japanese businessmen?" "I let them 'explore' my body," said Sandy. "Mostly groping, but a bit of kissing, and some licking, and sucking. You know things you'd do in primary school." "That doesn't sound like anything I did in primary school," said Kate. "Hold on," said Sandy. "I also remember I did something else. Yes. I think I went to a club that night." "This was all in the same day?" said Donnie. "I'm good at time management," said Sandy. "Right," said Donnie. "Anyways," said Sandy. "I went to this club and entered this crazy blow job contest. I serviced two guys at once and won first prize of $69; although I suspect one of my partners was inclined toward being premature. It's sort of cheating, isn't it?" "Oh, God," said Donnie. "What is this? The Aristocrats? Yuck." "But if a guy did it," said Sandy, "that'd be okay?" "But guys don't do these things," said Donnie. "No straight guy will ever tongue or mouth kiss another guy, unless there's a gun to his head. Much less money, attention, drinks, or anything of that nature. Because we don't come cheap . We will not show off our naughty bits for plastic beads, nor do we entertain Japanese businessmen -- sexually. And when in the history of mankind has any man participated in an oral sex competition? A girl goes to a club and gives blow jobs to two guys, okay? You never have the reverse, which is a guy licking two poomtangs at the same time. It doesn't happen. So don't do that, 'Oh, it's okay when a guy does it,' because we don't. Men don't exploit their bodies for financial gain, attention, or otherwise... Usually." "Wait a minute," said Kate. "What about when men going streaking or moon people? You won't denude yourself for anything of actual value, yet you'll do it for a chuckle?" "That is the complex nature of man," said Donnie. "We pride ourselves on our sense of humor."

"Hold on," said Sandy. "You say men won't do anything nasty for financial gains, but that isn't a fair comparison, because there's no market for it. Are you telling me that there wouldn't be as many male strippers as female strippers, if they could get paid the same amount or more?" "Wait, wait," said Donnie. "We got sidetracked. Let's go back a sec. How is what you told us related to your autograph from Stanley Stuart?" "It's how I got my plane ticket money," said Sandy, "which I used to visit Stanley at his movie premiere. That's where I got his autograph." "I can't believe it," said Donnie. "All that for a scribble." "That story you told us is almost as bad as that scene from Stephen King's 'It,'" said Kate. "You know the one I'm talking about." "I know it's deplorable," said Sandy. "But I was young and stupid." "I'm not passing judgment," said Kate. "I'm only baffled that you'd tell such things at a place where people eat." "I do feel a bit sick," said Donnie. "I'm sorry," said Sandy. "I just blurted that out because I wanted to get it off my chest. It feels good when you share things -- even if you're wrong -- doesn't it?" "I suppose," said Kate. Kate signed Sandy's autograph book and returned it to her. "Gawd," said Sandy, regretting her candidness. "I've made a fool of myself, haven't I?" "Yes," Donnie said firmly. "Actually," said Kate, "you seem like a really nice girl, outside of your wild stories." "Really?" said Sandy. "I know this might sound strange," said Kate, "but I need to hire an assistant. The job would require you to travel around the country, although I'd pay you very well. Much better than what you get here." "Is this a serious offer?" said Sandy. "Yes," said Donnie. "Is this a serious offer?" "Very serious," said Kate. "I need someone to come along with me when I do my movies, of which there should be many." "I'll take it!" said Sandy. "No second thoughts?" said Kate. "None at all," said Sandy. "Great," said Kate. "I'll get your information when my boyfriend and I are done eating." "Can't wait to work for you," said Sandy. "Sandy!" said a voice. "Get yah buns in h'yah! There's a pile o' puke that needs a moppin'!" Sandy, still smiling, left and went to the kitchen to help whomever was calling. Donnie exchanged a look with Kate that said something like, "What just happened?" "Something wrong?" said Kate. "I'm fine," said Donnie. He finally began eating. "I just wasn't expecting dinner and a show." "Actually," said Kate, "it's closer to lunch than dinner."

"Duly noted," said Donnie. Kate watched Donnie eating while she sipped on her now warm soda. "So, how's your food?" she said. "Not bad," said Donnie. "However, I'm still thinking about that waitress." "Yeah?" said Kate. "Did she turn you on?" "What? No," said Donnie. "I meant that -- I'm grossed out by her." "Why?" said Kate. "I don't know," said Donnie. "Maybe it's because I'm a prude? Am I a prude? "I won't lie to you," said Kate. "Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Just to be clear. Yes." She pinched Donnie's cheek, "But that's why you're so attractive. You're old fashioned, like apple pie, or knitting, or sitting around a table for dinner with your family instead of a TV. " "I'll take the compliment," said Donnie. He simpered at Kate. The two sat quietly, staring at each other, and enjoying their food. That was until two men in blue service uniforms came inside the restaurant. They wheeled in a large, rectangular object to the furthest wall, out of the way of the chairs and tables. Kate turned her head. "Oh, look at that!" "What?" said Donnie. "A photo booth," said Kate. "I haven't seen one of those in ages." "And?" said Donnie. "Aaand let's go have our pictures taken!" said Kate. When Kate and Donnie went over to the photo booth the workers in blue who had brought it in left the restaurant. Kate read the sign placed outside. "What a bargain," she said. "Four poses for two dollars." She looked at Donnie. "Do you have any change, m'dear?" "Yes, yes, I do," said Donnie. "Great," said Kate. "Then let's go in!" Kate and Donnie went into the photo booth. After closing the curtain, they sat beside each other, on the bench, and fed eight coins into the coin-slot. A small red light told them when to pose. In the first photo they posed side by side, seated like normal. In the second they made funny faces. The third Kate had her arm around Donnie while having a laugh. The final photo she was sat atop his lap, with her head turned to the side, giving him a wicked kiss bang on the lips. The two finished and came out of the photo booth. They stood by it, and had their photos come down a metal chute. Kate picked them up for a look. "What do you think?" said Kate, holding it up to Donnie. "I look so pasty and white," said Donnie. "You look handsome," said Kate. "Yeah?" "Hell yeah!" "Not too keen on the swearing, but thank you anyway." "Hm," Kate thought, "I think I'll put these photos in my treasure trunk." "You have a treasure trunk?" said Donnie.

"Don't you remember dragging it around when I moved into your place?" "No." "Well, it's where I keep my prized possessions." "Like jewelery?" "Not jewelry. Things more valuable than that." "Gee, I wonder what that could be?" Then Donnie took Kate by the hand, and they finished their date by going home, and falling asleep in each other's arms -- which lasted only about a few minutes when one of them rolled off the sofa. You couldn't ask for a more perfect date. Chapter 42: It's Not What You See, It's What You Don't Many, many days went by. But things were going okay despite the absence of a girlfriend and butler, who was on a well deserved vacation. Donnie's charity was on autopilot and today there were no responsibilities to be fulfilled. Donnie thought that he should pay his old friend a visit. Carrying a tennis ball he went to the backyard, where a cage-like structure made out of fencing kept in Hoser. "Hey, boy," said Donnie through the gaps of the kennel, "how yah doing? Wanna play catch?" Hoser jumped up and barked. RAWR! RAWR! RAWR! "Easy now," said Donnie. "What's gotten into you? You're barking at me like I'm a robber. Come on now --" Donnie put his hand out to Hoser, but quickly pulled it away when he was nearly bit on the finger. "For Chrissake," said Donnie. "You're acting like such a bitch." Hoser barked again. RAWR! RAWR! "Alright, I'm sorry," said Donnie. "I take it back. The name calling was immature and uncalled for. Do you forgive me?" Hoser cocked his head at an angle. "You know what you need?" said Donnie. "Bacon! That'll make you less crabby." So Donnie reversed his steps and went back into his mansion. As he was perusing his refrigerator for food there was a call at the phone. He dropped everything in his arms and ran to it excitedly. "Hello?!" he said over the phone. Donnie, said Kate. "How's my sweetie pie? You sound out of breath." "Oh no, I'm not," said Donnie. "I'm just excited to hear your voice." "I would've called you more," said Kate. "But this director's a pain in the butt. He treats us like cattle." "That bastard!" "Not so loud!" "Sorry." "It's okay." "Sooo, uhm, what've you been up to? Besides your movie?" "I learned how to whistle. Can you believe?"

Kate whistled. "Who taught you that?" said Donnie. "Slutty Sandy," said Kate. "You call your assistant Slutty Sandy?" said Donnie. "That's horrible." "Well," said Kate. "I don't think it's such a big deal. It's not like I'm lying. She really is a slut. Oh, she doesn't think she is, but she is. Sluts are like that, you know. And the fatties. They're always in denial. I think it's an ego thing, like they don't wanna admit to being what they actually are." "So, um, what is that then?" said Donnie. "Willful ignorance or ignorance is bliss?" "Willful ignorance for the purpose of bliss," said Kate. "The truth will not set you free," said Donnie. "As I was saying," said Kate. "Sluts just annoy me so much. The way they defend themselves! Okay, it's either they just get straight up get angry and deny it, or they compare themselves to make their nasty habits seem less than what it actually is. Like a girl will go, "I'm not a whore. I blew twenty guys, but Jannie's done fifty. It's not as much in comparison. Her count is more than double. She's the real whore." Like really? Of course yours will seem sane in comparison, because your friends are all huge whoresluts! That's the thing too, birds of a feather flock together, so all these skanky bitches have a warped sense of what's normal. Because the world to them is their little circle of friends. It's the blind leading the blind." "Skanky bitches?" said Donnie. "But THEN AGAIN," said Kate, "I guess all people do that, don't they? They try to save their own ego by comparing themselves to the worst person they know, who's probably pretty bad, because like I said, birds of a feather." "Interesting use of cliches," said Donnie. "What now?" said Kate. "Nothing," said Donnie. "Keep in mind," Kate continued. "I'm not judging anyone. I'm not being judgmental. To each their own. I'm only saying that people, when it comes to themselves, aren't objective. They're downright dishonest. That's what gets to me. The lying. I hate liars. But then again who wouldn't choose to lie? I mean who really, in front of another person, wants to admit they have a problem? No one -- except maybe alcoholics." "Ah-ha," said Donnie. "I really am not picking on sluts," said Kate. "I love 'em. They have all these interesting stories, but they need to step up to the plate and admit they got issues, or at least admit what they are, or what they're doing. You know what? EVERYONE needs to step up to the plate and admit they got issues, maybe then we'd stop feeling so bad. So, hear me now, Tubby Timmy, stop comparing yourself to your 360 pound cousin. You know you're fat. Deal with it and go out for a jog." "Mm, I dunno if this movement of acceptance and candor will take," said Donnie. "Why, you don't think people should pull their heads out of their own butts?" said Kate. "So many people have their heads up their butts. It's so far up there they've forgotten where they are." "Okay, regardless of what people should do, or your philosophy," said Donnie, "you shouldn't be giving people nicknames like Slutty Sandy. What if they find out?"

"They won't find out," said Kate. "And also we have nicknames for everyone." "Are they all just as awful?" said Donnie. "No," said Kate. "Not all of them." "But why give them nicknames in the first place anyways?" said Donnie. "Why not just use their regular names?" "The idea is," said Kate. "You it take someone's name, make it silly, and then it's easier to remember. It really does work. You should try it out. I have nicknames for all my little helpers. There's: Big Bill, Cowboy Kody, Whacky Jackie, Ricky Dicky, Tim the Tool, Smelly Emily, and even Carl the Coon." "Did you say 'Carl the Coon'?" "Yeah, why?" "Kate! That's a racist word!" "It is not. It's short for raccoon. We call Carl a coon because he has bags around his eyes." "Whatever it is you think, you can't say it. Trust me. If you do that you'll be branded as a racist." "Alright, alright, I'll give him a new nickname. How about Carl the Monkey?" "Aah, I guess that's okay." "Anyways, enough about me, how're things on your end, hm?" "Not bad. I found a new efficient way to get through all your fan mail we keep receiving." "Is it a machine?" "It's more like fire than a machine." "Oh, God. I told you to recycle it. Don't you care about mother nature?" "Okay. Fine. I'll recycle it -- on one condition." "What's that?" "Can I come and visit you? "Donnie, I already told you. We have to keep everything under wraps. It's a very secretive project." "But I miss you so much." "I miss you too, but that doesn't change my answer." "Well, I guess, at least I can spend more time with Hoser." Kate sighed very loudly. "Why'd you sigh very loudly?" said Donnie. "About your dog," said Kate, "uuuuh, I finally took an allergy test." "And?" said Donnie. "I'm allergic to dogs," said Kate. "That would explain why I only get the sniffles at our mansion." "What're you saying?" "I need you to find Hoser another home." "But we already keep him outside, isn't that enough?" "Donnie, please. I'm highly allergic." "Alright, I'll find him a new home." "I want you to do it within the week too. Because I know what'll happen. You'll procrastinate, you'll forget about it, and then I'll have to come home to a dog." "Okay."

"And one more thing --" Donnie heard a voice screaming at Kate. "What're you doing?! You're not being paid to sit around on your arse all day, pretty face! Git over here!" "Aw, Jesus," said Kate. "I gotta go. Talk to you later?" "When later?" said Donnie. "Maybe this afternoon," said Kate. "Wait, no. I gotta do a bunch of interviews." "That should be fun." "What? I hate interviews. It's always the same questions. 'Did you have fun making this movie?' NO! I DIDN'T! Actually I'm not doing the things you see on screen. See, it's called pretend. The people in Donkey Kong did not actually meet the gorilla." "I think you mean King Kong." "Hey, isn't it amusing that interviews are where I use my acting skills the most? How about that, huh?" "I thought you said you had to go." "What? I can't talk about myself for once?" "Sorry." "I'm just teasing, Donnie." "Oh." "Anyways, talk to you later?" "Alright. Talk to you later. Kate. I love you." Kate hung up the phone. Sunday afternoon. Donnie allowed people into his mansion, hoping that he could find a proper home for his dog. The first visitor was an old lady named Gladis. She had on a fur jacket, turquoise earrings, and black hair with distinguishing white streaks. Gladis sat in the living room across from Donnie and Hoser. "Well, let's get this thing started," said Donnie. "Why do you think you would be a good owner?" "I would be a good owner, said Gladis, because Im very good with children. But pets...animals? said Donnie. Oh, pshaw, same thing arent they? I dont think so. Children are just like animals. They need to be cleaned, wiped, fed, and given proper attention. They follow their instincts, they have no real sense of self-control, and they live to eat, and do whatever else they have in the back of their little minds." "That would make everybody an animal then, not just children." "I suppose in a way that's what we are." Alright, then. So, Im taking it that you have children? No. None at all. Not even one? Nope. Ive never had children of my own. Thats why Id like to own a dog. Its the next best thing. I'll take good care of him, I swear. And when he's dead I'll even have him stuffed and mounted." Thats kinda creepy. Its taxidermy. People have been practicing it for hundreds of years. Yeeeah. I dont think this is gonna work out.

Are you sure? I am an animal lover." Youre wearing a fur coat. Because I love animals. Donnie narrowed his eyes. Im gonna think about this one, alright? Then he stood up and showed Gladis the door. As she was leaving another visitor came by. It was none other than Xavier. "Hello," said Xavier, holding a paper under his arm, and a Xeroxed poster of Hoser. "I'm here to see this dog you have. Kind, sir, would you let me in?" Donnie was about to slam the door shut, but remembered he couldn't because of his ties to Xavier's father. "What do you want?" said Donnie. "I already told you," said Xavier. "I'd like to see your dog, sir." "I'd rather you not," said Donnie. "Look," said Xavier, "I know you don't like me, but -- I like you. And I'm really sorry for what I've done in the past. Can't we put it behind us, friend? Please let me see your dog please. I love animals. I own a kennel, do you know that? I also made a donation to the zoo last week." "Fine, you can come in," said Donnie, "but make it quick." "Snappy as ever," said Xavier. Then Xavier went inside with Donnie and sat down. Donnie noticed Hoser immediately take a liking to Xavier. Hoser jumped up on Xavier and licked his face. Xavier gently pushed him down. "Easy, boy," said Xavier. He looked at Donnie. "Feisty, isn't he?" Hoser returned to Donnie at his behest. "Okay," said Donnie. "Let's start this interview." "So what is this?" said Xavier. "You're actually going to interview me? After knowing me for how many years?" "That's exactly why I'm interviewing you," said Donnie. "Alright, fine. What's your first question?" "Why are you really here?" "To see your dog!" "Sure, pal." "Anyways, I have a question for you: Why are you getting rid of your dog?" "Allergies." "You're allergic to dogs? Why would you get a dog in the first place then?" "Not my allergies. Kate has allergies." "How disloyal, Donnie. That beast has been with you through thick and thin, and suddenly a dame comes along, and you have to get rid of your best friend?" "I'm not getting rid of my best friend, because you see Kate is my best friend." "Your girlfriend is not your best friend -- and neither is your wife, nor your 'significant other.' Alright? You know how I know this? Because couples, who say they're best friends, break up. Why would you ever break up with your 'best friend'? I've been friends with my actual best friend for over twenty years. The girl who said I was her best friend dumped me after four 'cause I refused to get married. You'd think that someone who calls you their best friend would understand your needs -- and not leave the country without telling you."

"Sorry that didn't work out for you." "Okay, granted, breaking up is not necessarily indicative that you were never best friends in the first place, but what is indicative is the aftermath. Like why couldn't we continue being 'best friends' afterward? But no she just got up, and left, and went splitsville on me. I haven't seen her since the day she decided that Calcutta would be an ideal place to live. I got one letter from her and it was her chastising me about getting into a new relationship too quickly. Like she wasn't happy about it. But if she really was my best friend, wouldn't she want me to be happy, and still be there for me despite me getting into a relationship with someone else? Shouldn't actual best friends always care for you, no matter whether you're 'with them' or not?" "See, what I think is --" "Let me get this through to you, Donnie. This whole my girlfriend/boyfriend/wife/husband is my best friend thing is bullshit. People who say that have no real friends outside of their 'best friend,' or they're confusing sexual attraction with genuine human bonding that you find in a non-sexually motivated relationship. It's true. I mean remove that sexual attraction, in your quote-unquote best friend, and what have you got? That fat creepy girl or the boy, with the bad skin, who you might hang out with but don't really like." "Well --" "I'm not saying it never happens, okay? There are literally billions of people on this planet Earth. There might be cases where I'm wrong, but they are few and far between. And that's just the way things are. Your spouse, your significant other, whatever you call it, cannot be your actual best friend. To be best friends you have to understand each other beyond a shadow of a doubt. Okay? Someone of one gender cannot understand the other gender in the same way someone of the same gender can. Women get women, and men get men. It doesn't work vice-verse. I mean how can a man understand the pains of childbirth, or how can a woman understand what it's like to be kicked in the testicles? See, it's these gender barriers that prevent authentic, genuine, true best-friendships... But romantic entanglements, being what they are (whether lopsided or not), are always full of lust as much as delusion." "Delusion, huh?" "Oh, sure, you love her when she or he's putting out, but what happens when the gravy train stops? Do you remain best friends? Do you remain best friends when the other person starts sleeping around? Hells no. But when it's hetero man and man, and woman and woman, you can remain best friends while the other goes on a shag bender, almost indefinitely, because it's for reals. You're not flying under the wings of romance or some other type of perversion." "You believe this?" "Sure do." "Fine. Forget about best friends. What about regular friends? Is that possible according to you?" "To be honest, I do think that men and women can definitely be just friends -- but only if there's no sexual attraction. But being actual besties? No way, Jos." "Did you just say: No way, Jos? And why's it that they can't be besties?" "Like I said, the two genders are far too different from each other to have that special closeness, which is required to be best friends. There's a dichotomy in the way."

"Whatever you say." "Don't gimme that tone. It's simple. There are only two points here: One, in a real friendship there can't be any sexual-romantic attraction and therefore ulterior motives. Two, if you want a genuine best friendship, which I think is the next level, you must first have the first, plus be of the same gender to make that extra, special connection. See how it works? Two levels. That's it." "So, by you any sexual/romantic attraction makes a friendship null?" "Yes, because its foundation is usurped." "Okay. What about when there is no attraction in the beginning and then something develops later on? So, it's genuine in the beginning, and what is it now? That's it? Just because you changed your mind the friendship is obliterated?" "Oh, that. That's a grey zone. It's called 'more than friends.' When you start out as real friends, then sexual/romantic attraction comes along the way that means you've become more than friends, granted, it's not reciprocated. If it's reciprocated, then that's just the regular ol' boyfriend and girlfriend thing -- or fuck buddies, which isn't too uncommon these days. Because modern people are so unrestrained and filthy." "Wait. I don't think 'more than friends' means what you think it means." "I know, I know what it officially means, but I'm borrowing it to mean something else. Alright? Ad hoc it's a loanword." "Right, so, more than friends --" "M-T-F for short. I have lots of M-T-F's, but that's only because I'm rich and handsome." "Yes. Women have a lot of these M-T-F's don't they?" "Yeah, the ones who are egotists. Because M-T-F's are nicer than usual. Obviously they want something, so they're pouring on the compliments and gifts." Xavier paused and took out a sheet of paper. "What's that?" said Donnie. "I made a list," said Xavier. "A list of all the friendship/relationship types/people you meet. And a set of rules." "Oh, boy," said Donnie. This was Xavier's List: Rule #1 - Each person can only be in one category, although they can have qualities that resemble another, and you can transition or change. No. I don't care what you say, your brother is not your friend. He can be friendly, or act like your friend, but first and foremost he is your brother. Rule #2 - Sexual and romantic attraction changes what your relationship is. Rule # 3 - Don't forget Rule #1 and Rule #2. "You just couldn't think of a number three, huh?" said Donnie. "Quiet down," said Xavier. He licked his lips. "The categories are..." (Xavier's List continued). 1. Perfect Stranger - You don't know anything about this person. Maybe you've seen him/her around, but you haven't even made a conversation. 2. Stranger - You know almost nothing about this person, but you've exchanged

a couple pleasantries, and you could know their name. Think the postman or the lady who makes your coffee. 3. Acquaintance - Someone who's in your work environment or at school. You might know his/her name. You've had some extended chats, maybe you've even done some activities with them, but generally you interactions are limited to the environment or organization in which you are forced to go to. A co-worker is a very good example. 4. Friend of a Friend - Your friend's friend that you hang out with, but only when the other person is present. 5. Friend - Someone you might see once in a while. You'll do some activity together, like play sports. But nothing intimate. You probably wouldn't hang out alone with this person. [And remember there is no sexual attraction in a real friendship. If there is, then it becomes something else.] 6. Good Friend - You might hang out alone with this person. You might call them on to move furniture. You would call them your friend for sure, and you know their history, and their back story. You have a good feel for who they are as a person. 7. Close Friend - You can hang out alone with this person and not be uncomfortable. You know beyond their usual biography, you know some secrets. 8. Best Friend - They know everything about you. They understand you. And this person is first in your mind, or almost first, whenever you want to do anything. You can definitely hang out alone with each other, and silence is seldom awkward. 9. More Than a Friend - An M-T-F. This person is like a friend, or maybe even a good friend, or a close friend, but they are romantically or sexually attracted to you. They would accept a good fucking from you, if you put it out there. 10. Romantic Interest - Things are heating up. Maybe you've shared a couple kisses on the lips, or hugs, with this person, there is definitely an attraction. Often leads into boyfriend and girlfriend relationships. Or fuck buddies. 11. Fuck Buddies/Bed Buddies/Friends with Benefits - This is sort of a weird one. It's kind of a halfway between friends, and a boyfriend and girlfriend relationship. The thing is though, about this, it's never equal. Usually it's a last ditch, desperate move to try and seduce someone into something better. Usually the girl is using her M-T-F's horniness to rope him into something that might resemble a relationship. But it seldom works out, because guys don't get emotionally attached from sex. Not in the least. 12. Boyfriend, Girlfriend - You know what this is. Like friends, but with all that gooey stuff. 13. Long Term Girlfriend - Like the above, but you've been together for a long time, years maybe, and you may even live with each other. For some this can be a stop before wife and husband, or it may be everything they want or need. 14. Wife, Husband - Obviously you are married. 15. Whore - A stranger who has sex with you for money. So, a stranger yet you're doing things that only a 11, 12, 13, or 14 would allow. Visiting a whore hardly qualifies you for anything, but it's not as bad as no human contact at all. Now, in the case no money is exchanged, you just robbed someone.

Donnie yawned. "Am I not amusing you?" said Xavier. "I'm sorry," said Donnie. "I just think all these long winded, pompous lectures are boring. What's the point of them? Do you expect me to buy into your razzmatazz? What does this have to do with the story -- of, um, our lives? Hm?" "I was bored. I wanted to write something. I like writing lists." "Well, it's not very good, and furthermore you've forgotten something really important." "What is that?" "All these things only apply to straight people. What about homosexuals?" "You can't count homo-sexuals." "Why not?" "They're sick." "Sick how?" "Well, homo-sexuality is clearly a mental disease." "Are you being serious?" "A penis is obviously designed for a vagina. If you think otherwise you got something else going on in your head, probably a mental disease." "Okay then, thank you for explaining the world of romance to me." "Romance? What romance? This romance stuff is all bullshit anyways. It's purely biological. Chemicals firing in your brain, controlling you, telling you what to do. I know this, because I don't remember wanting to screw around with women when I was a little kid. But then suddenly boom! What we call romance is chemistry and biology, all in the name of reproduction, and continuing species. Why do you think sex is so important to a man? and why do you think it's so important for him to have a job? Because a woman is looking for a provider, who will help her to raise her children. So, this boils down to an exchange of sex and money. And that's what romantic relationships really are: partnerships, a sharing of resources." "Why, aren't you academic?" "No need to be sarcastic. I'm just telling you the truth. Best friends don't break up. I think that was my original point? Wasn't it?" "Well, whatever you say, it doesn't matter 'cause Kate and I are not going to break up. So, Xavier, your arguments are invalid. Kate and I are just fine." "Hey. Speak of the devil. I have something to show you." Xavier took out the paper from underneath his arm and gave it to Donnie. "Why are you giving me this?" said Donnie. "It's a present," said Xavier. "Open it." Donnie looked at the cover of the newspaper and saw that it was no newspaper at all, but rather a tabloid, a tabloid called: "The National Daily Star Inquisitor." "Turn to page thirteen," said Xavier. Donnie turned to page thirteen and froze for a moment. His eyes went across the page, seeing all the pictures of Kate -- with another man. A man, who looked to be no slouch. The headlined read: "Mystery Man Sweeps Kate Witman Off Her Feet." "Interesting, isn't it?" said Xavier.

Donnie looked at it again, this time giving the pictures more than a glance. There Kate was, in fact, hanging out with a male companion. They were walking down a trail, sharing a type of moment. Kate seemed quite happy, blowing off the head of a dandelion. "Well?" said Xavier. "I don't know what the idea is here," said Donnie. "Are you trying to upset me? Well, I'm not upset. They're just, um, friends..." "Let's say they are in fact just, um, friends," said Xavier. "You think it's okay that they hang out alone together like that? Just the two of 'em?" "Maybe he's gay." "He's not gay." "How do you know that?" "Let's call it gaydar." "Whatever. Kate has male friends. I hate it, and I hate it when she hangs out with them -- alone or in a group, where she's the only girl -- but what the hell can I do? Tell her to stop?" "Tell her to get some female friends." "She can't. She says she doesn't get along with other females. She says they're too catty and jealous of her." "Probably true, but I still question the personality of someone who can't get along with their own species. I mean really. There must be something wrong with you if you can't be friends with someone who doesn't wanna have sex with you -- or would have sex with you given the opportunity. Like, c'mon, how needy and craving for attention can you be? Are you that self-centered? You can only get along with those who have a good lusting for you? I'm sorry, but to me it's a red flag when a woman has more male friends than female friends. The rule should be your girlfriend can only have one male friend for every nine female friends, maximum. 10% men, 90% women. And the men have to be ugly, gay, asexual, or not at all sexually attracted to her. And absolutely no exboyfriends. I cannot stress that enough. That is literally the worst type of male friend." "Wait. What about if she's got no friends?" "That's just sad." "Oh. Okay then." "So yeah! Male Friends = Dicks In Glass Jars. Watch out, yeah?" "Alright. I get your point. I realize maybe some of her male friends actually do want to do 'things' with her. And I find the idea deplorable, but I'm not going to tell her what to do. As long as Kate's faithful that's fine. I trust her, and, after all, she is in a relationship with only me. AND, I have to correct you, she isn't needy or craving attention. She's a very independent woman for your information." "She has her own personal assistant, a publicist, a photographer, a beauty consultant, a hoard of men waiting to do her every bidding, and a boyfriend who does nothing but dote on her. Is that your idea of independent and not needing or craving attention? If she didn't crave attention she wouldn't be an actress, okay? She would stay out of the limelight and do something quiet, like, I dunno, be a writer. Or editor." "Xavier, you might be right, you might be wrong, but that won't make me change my mind. My relationship with Kate is in a good place. So, she's hanging out with one man? Big whoop."

"Read the between the lines, brother. Look at that paper again. Look at her in her little pink sports bra and shorts. She looks like a skank. You don't dress like a skank, unless you want someone else to get a real good look." "Excuse me, did you call my girlfriend a skank?" "I said 'looks like a skank.' I didn't say is a skank. There's a difference." "Oh, boy. What do you want? I'm not gonna get upset because she has male friends, alright? I have friends of the opposite gender too... Well, uh, one, who I haven't seen in a very, very long time... But yeah, all the same." "Man. I dunno how you do it. I couldn't stand it if my girl kept hanging out with a bunch of males alone. That's like putting a sheep in a wolf pack. Someone's gonna get eaten, and it's probably not another wolf." "You're really getting on my nerves, and I'm starting to suspect you never came here with the intention of adopting my dog." "I'll adopt your dog and give it a good home. But first turn the page of that there tabloid. You haven't seen everything." "I told you already. I don't care who she's hanging out with." "Fine. Don't turn it. Live in ignorance." "I'm not a child, Xavier. Reverse psychology doesn't work on me." "I wasn't trying to use reverse psychology. I really meant it. If you don't want to look, then don't look. I'm not twisting your arm." "Alright! I'll turn the page, but after that you have to go. Okay?" "Okay." Donnie turned the page of the tabloid and came onto page 15 or 16. Kate was with same fellow, giving him a good kiss on the lips. They were at the airport lounge, having a drink at the bar. "Doesn't it just knock the wind out of you?" said Xavier. Donnie started to breathe heavy. His head felt light as the photos registered in his brain -- and furthermore reminded him of other things that he had seen. "Are you okay?" said Xavier. "Hey, remember when I sent you that package before? That was me giving you a warning, not me trying to annoy you. I hope you know that." "Shut up," said Donnie. "This is fake. Doctored photos!" "Don't kid yourself," said Xavier. "I'm not that cruel." "I know what this is," said Donnie. "It's for a movie. That's what." "And you're okay with her kissing in movies?" "If it's a movie." "Yeah, but it's still real. She's still doing it. She's still getting physically intimate and making physical contact. Doesn't matter if it's being collected on film. Why should it matter that it's for a film? You should not be able to justify cheating through art." "Xavier. I know what you're doing, and I disagree, and I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm totally fine with this. If she's doing this for a movie, then so be it." "Gee, Donnie. You've really manned up since I first met you. I once took you to be an insecure, self-conscious, low self-esteem, wimp. But you don't even care that she's swapping fluids with some other guy. How great is that? I don't think I could be as manly as you. I'd go crazy if my lady kissed someone else -- or even hugged them." "Hugs?"

"People think it's benign and innocent, but it's your whole body squishing and rubbing against another person's body. It's much more intimate than you think." "Is that so?" "Yes, and I have an unwritten rule in my head: A gesture is only acceptable when unconfused, and without awkwardness, and without sexual connotations under all forms of context." "In English?" "If a gesture cannot be done while naked, without me thinking something is 'going on,' then I am not cool with it. A handshake is a good example. A handshake is a handshake, whether naked or clothed, and you will never get that confused with anything else. But sitting on a lap, hugging someone, or dancing, that can take on the wrong meaning while in the nude." "Um, okay, yeeeah, so you what were you saying before?" "Oh, nothing really. I was just saying, you're more confident than I thought you were. Personally, I couldn't take it if my girl were going around acting like your girl, kissing people for movies, or whatever the hell she's doing. I mean that's a blow to the ego. Because you know in the back of your mind whenever she does these things, afterwards she's sizing you up, and comparing you." "She is not comparing me." "Of course she's comparing you. Women compare all the time. In anything. Why do you think men instinctively don't like women with much of a history? Because nobody wants to be weighed against all those jokers from the past, and then decidedly be dubbed the bronze medal of her life." "Hm, you like to hear yourself talk, don't you?" "The worst thing though is the deception. I can't stand that. Because when you get with someone, and they do all these little special things for you -- like kissing your neck, and your shoulder, nibbling your ears -- they're not actually special. You think they are, you think it's just for you, but really they're just things she's learned from her past. And once you open up your eyes you can't help but think, 'She's done this before. This is her go-to-move that she's done on everyone else. I'm not the first. I'm not special. I'm not the one. I'm just another bloke in her line up.'" "But I'm not just another bloke... What does that mean?" "No, you know what? You know what the real worst thing is?" "Yeah. What?" "It's the take home fantasies. See, while you're here on your own, Kate is off locking lips with other men (for whatever reason) and at the end of the day she is storing that stuff in her brain. Now when she climbs into bed with you, she'll be thinking about these other people. FANTASIZING. But here's the thing, these fantasies aren't like those cheap celebrity fantasies we all have -- these are real, actual people. There's a good possibility something could happen, if she decided. Lord. Imagine that. Imagine all those men she's kissed and done stuff with, and now she's thinking about them. But what are you in this plethora of romantic memories?" "What are you going on about?" "Your woman is emotionally cheating." "No one is emotionally, or physically, cheating. Okay? We have an understanding."

"Hey, question, just going off topic here." "What?" "Do you think that you're her best? Have you ever given yourself that thought?" "Rule #1 of Relationship Club: Don't ask; Don't tell." "Her idea, right?" "Well, yeah." "She probably suggested that because you're a crappy lay. She doesn't want you to know." "I'm not a crappy lay." "You've been with one woman. How many guys has she been with? I bet she's had many men way better than you. She probably think you're shitty in bed compared to all the other men she's been with. When you're down there, going at it, she's probably thinking, 'Wow. This is tiny compared to William's.' Oh, isn't William a guy she used to date? I heard they had quite a hot and heavy relationship. Or what was his nickname -Will?" Donnie's face turned crimson. He did not like thinking about anyone that Kate used to date. (Or any other man in her life for the matter.) Didn't matter what they did, or didn't do, it was all the same to him. Hell, he even got apprehensive when she hung out with her gay male friends. She was quite the flirty type, probably the type to try and ungay a guy, maybe by a kiss on the cheek, or on the lips, or somewhere else. "Earth to Donald Underwood," said Xavier, waving his hand, "Earth to Donald Underwood. You awake?" "Yeah," said Donnie. He shook his head. "I'm cool. I was just thinking about something." He looked lost. "What do you want?" "I have another question for you," said Xavier. "Yeah?" "What is the name of that actor Kate's hanging out with? The one from the paper? He doesn't look too familiar to me. Does he look familiar to you?" "Uhm... His name escapes me at the moment. Wasn't he in that movie 'Thrushmore?'" Xavier stood and slapped Donnie upside the head with the tabloid. "You idiot!" said Xavier. "He's not an actor. Can't you see what's going on? Kate is cheating on you! She's not doing any of that goddamn shit for a film!" "You don't know what you're talking about," said Donnie. "Kate is not cheating. She's not the type to do something like that." "Unless you're both in an open relationship," said Xavier, "then yeah, she is in fact cheating on you.' "No, she isn't," said Donnie. "Kate is a good girl. That's why I love her." "Jayzus Christ," said Xavier. "How much more evidence do you need? Should I show you the other pictures too? The ones where she's kissing that guy at that concert she went to? Or how about that club? Or how about her little visit to the plaza? Or how about --" "Leave me alone," said Donnie, who was starting to curl into a ball. He couldn't make eye contact with Xavier or even Hoser. "You're lying. It's not real." "It's damn real," said Xavier.

Xavier grabbed Donnie by the shoulders and picked him up, and looked him straight in the face. "I know how you're feeling," said Xavier. "I've been there before. You've fallen madly in love with someone, who doesn't give two shits about you, and who you probably have nothing in common with, and who isn't anything now like when you first met. Yet you try to make it work, but it's not going the way you wanted in a big bad way, and you're hurt. It's like no other pain in the world. You feel like you're dying, but you don't wanna let go, because you still have some idiotic shred of hope left, and you don't want to face the fact that all your time and emotions were spent for nothing." "What're you getting at?" said Donnie. "To put it simply," said Xavier, "you're in love with the wrong person and you made the stupid decision to follow your heart. Now you can't admit you have buyer's remorse." "Goddamn you." "I know it's hard, but let me tell you something: It's not your fault. But you do need to accept the truth and move on." "I..." "Listen to me, Donnie. Kate isn't for you. If you're night, then she's day. You don't match. It's time to accept that. Let it go." "N-no. We do match. We're, we're meant to be." "You're not meant to be. You're lying to yourself. You made that up to make yourself feel better. And I don't blame you. Because we all delude ourselves about the ones we love to relieve the pain." "O-o-okay. So what should I do now, then? Throw it all away because of a few kisses? Maybe she was drunk." "That is a shitty excuse." Xavier pushed Donnie back down, and stood over him as if giving a lecture. "Donnie," said Xavier, "you have to realize something... Your woman is a deceitful slapper." "She is not a deceitful whatever the word you used," said Donnie. "She is on birth control pills though, am I right?" said Xavier. "So?" "She doesn't have a medical condition, she doesn't have irregular periods, she's not going to see you for months and months, what does she need it for? Why does she need to prevent a pregnancy that couldn't possibly happen because you're not with her? Donnie held his breath for a moment, like he was having troubles breathing. "Wait, how do you even know about that?" he said, trying to control himself. "Why, I'm friends with your doctor," said Xavier. "Isn't that against the law," said Donnie, "breaking doctor-patient confidentiality agreements?" "My family practically runs this city. I can find out anything I want. Did you know that big foot really exists?" "Cut the crap. I'm not in the mood for jokes. And, and I really think you should leave now." "Hold your horses, huh? I have something for you." "Another 'present'?"

"Don't do those air quotes to me. I really do have a present to give you. You'll like it too." "Hurry up." Xavier slid two fingers into his front pocket and pulled out a business card. He handed it to Donnie. Donnie looked at it and read the title aloud, which was above an address. "The Xavier Fine Wine Ranch. Good for one free bottle." "This is how you're consoling me?" said Donnie. "Free wine?" "Have you never heard of reading between the lines?" said Xavier. "I told you before, cut the crap. Just tell me straight." "Alright. The Xavier Wine Ranch is a brothel -- a house of prostitution. Hookers. Street walkers. Ladies of the night. Sluts. Whores. Soccer moms. You name it we have it." "You actually run a brothel?" "Is it not getting through to you?" "That's illegal. I could call the cops and you'd be arrested." "Ha! They're my best customers." "Jesus." "Did it surprise you?" "I guess not." "So yeah --" Donnie stood up and paced around. "I don't understand this," he said. "You're filthy rich. You have all the money in the world. Why would you run a brothel? What's the point of taking that risk, even if you do think the cops don't give a crap?" "How could I give up the business that made my family rich?" said Xavier. "Booze and women." "Get the fuck outta here," said Donnie. "I'm serious. That's how we made our first fortune. Then of course we went legit." "You didn't understand what I said. I literally meant to get the fuck outta here. I don't want you in here anymore. God. You're so despicable, trying to make me cheat on my girlfriend, so that you could worm your way back into her life. The balls you got are bigger than the ones on my dog." "That's disgusting, and I'm not trying to get my way back into Kate's life. I'm done with her. I honestly don't care. She's a horrendous girlfriend. That's why I came to visit you, to emancipate you. If she's cheating on you, then you should be able to go out, and have some fun of your own. It's only right, Donnie. Make it even. Don't get angry, get even, amiright?" "I don't care what Kate did to me. I would never ever cheat on her. Cheating to me is like murder. It's something I just don't do." "This is why I like you, Donnie. You're such an insecure, self-conscious, nervous, confused, jealous, neurotic person -- but you never let that get in the way of your morals. You're such a boyscout. You're like Superman, except kryptonite isn't your kryptonite, Lois is your kryptonite." "Can't I be Batman instead?" "I'm Batman. You could never be Batman."

"That's what you say." "Anyways, I gotta go. I hope you change your mind about things too, Donnie. You shouldn't let yourself be pushed around anymore." "Wait. What about my dog? Didn't you come here for my dog?" Xavier sniggered. Later that day, Donnie found a new home for his dalmatian when he went to visit Chuck's Barbershop, and dropped off Hoser. As luck would have it they were a perfect match. Chapter 43: Cheap Love A long winding road took Donnie up a tree covered hill. He parked his car and stepped outside, wondering whether he had become lost. But then he spotted a path, obscured in foliage, with a sign that read "welcome" in thin purple lettering. He went onto it and followed it all the way down. When it came to an end he found a cabin marked "The Xavier Fine Wine Ranch." Behind it were rows and rows of ready to pick grapes, further than the eye could see. Donnie went inside of the cabin. There were many bottles of wine placed neatly on shelves, and a curly haired woman named Marney waiting by the door. "Oh, hello," said Donnie. "Hello," said Marney. "How can I help you?" Donnie gave Marney the business card that was gifted to him by Xavier. "I'm here for a, uh, free bottle of wine," said Donnie. He winked. "No need for winking here," said Marney. "I fully understand what you want. I'll get you a free bottle of wine right away." Marney left and returned with a bottle of red wine, which she gave to Donnie. "Is it to your liking?" said Marney. "I guess," said Donnie. He scratched his head. "But I'm not really much of a drinker, I wouldn't know the first thing about wine." "Well, that's a beginner's wine. We have much better wine than that elsewhere. Would you care to shop around?" "No, thank you. I think I'm fine for now." "But I insist." "I'm sorry. I should probably go now. I actually came here for something else, not wine, as odd as that sounds." "Are you absolutely sure? Because this wine I'll show you is very, very particular. You'd be a fool to pass it up. Trust me on this." "Alright, fine. I'll have a look. Where is this wine?" "Follow me, if you will. It's all the way in the back." "Wait. Why do you need me to go with you? Can't you just bring it out?" "There's a heavy box that needs to be removed." "How heavy is it?" "For a big strong man like you? It should be as easy as pie." "Oh, alright. I guess could do that. After all, I always help a lady in need." "Mm, anything you say, honey."

Then Marney led Donnie through a back door. As they were going past some crates, and boxes, Donnie couldn't help but wonder where they were going. However, out of curiosity he kept on following. "Is she going to murder me?" thought Donnie. "I'm not going to murder you," said Marney. "How did you know what I was thinking?" "Most men tend to think that while down here. This basement is quite creepy." "It's okay. It has a cute dungeon-esque feeling to it." "Thank you. I try not to sweep the cobwebs when I can." After walking the length of the basement Marney and Donnie went up a set of small steps. When Marney pushed up against one of two panels that were part of a cellar door she revealed a house of prostitution. The brothel was full of scantily clad women, subtly swaying to the music, and customers walking about, with a bar to the side where men could have some "liquid courage." The atmosphere was sultry yet had a touch of class, which probably came from the Victorian decor. Donnie and Marney landed in the welcome area. "Girls!" Marney whistled. "We have a new customer!" Two dozen girls gathered in front of Donnie, presenting themselves as pleasingly as possible. They flirted subtly, fluttering their eyes, licking their lips, and playing with their hair. "Go ahead," Marney told Donnie, "take your pick." "I dunno," said Donnie. "I think Nicole might suit you," said Marney. She pointed. "She's the tall brunette at the back. Very gentle. Good with first timers." "I think we have a misunderstanding," said Donnie. "When I said 'I dunno' I meant that I'm having my doubts about this whole brothel thing." "Would you like to go to the bar for a drink? It'll help you relax." "Actually I think I should leave." "I think you should stay." "No. I can't." "Don't gimme that. You obviously you came here for a reason. You knew what was coming. You could've left any time before, but here you are. So why leave now and waste your time? Have some fun." "But this doesn't feel right." "Are you some sort of prude? You've been giving me the runaround since we first met." "No, I haven't, and I'm not a prude." "Then what's the matter? Are you a pussy?" Donnie cleared his throat. "Pardon?" "You're a little pussy, aren't you?" said Marney. "You're too pussy to get some pussy. Hey, I understand. A lot of people tend to puss out." "Now, look here," said Donnie. "I'm not afraid. I just think paying for sex is disgusting." "Oh, get off your high horse," said Marney. "Everyone pays for sex in one form or another, okay? When you take a girl out on a date, and you pay for her date, that's paying

for sex. You might not get a return right away, but basically that's what you're doing. So don't look you're nose down at us girls for cutting out the bullshit, and being upfront. We're trying to make a living here, with a smidgen of honest." "Fine! I'll do it! Happy?" "Attaboy! Now what's your flavor?" "Erm, what do you recommend?" "Personally, I like British girls. They're a bit stiff at first, but once they get rolling they're quite good. As my dear friend Alexendar says, 'British women taste like Marmite.'" "I don't like Marmite." "That was just a joke, but if that's really the case, then I think you should go with a Frenchie. See that one with the raccoon makeup and dark hair? She knows a bit of yoga. Stretchy, stretchy, non?" "I don't really care about nationality. Or yoga." Marney snapped her fingers. "I know," she said. "I know just the person for you: Gabriella. She's the youngest one we got here, and the young ones, as you know, are very tight." "Uh, how old is she again?" said Donnie. "Fourteen." "Shit! You want me to sleep with a fourteen year old?" "Look, she just came in, and she's never done it before. So we want her first time here to be as pleasant as possible. I would've recommended her first, but she was hiding in the back... Gabby, get out here! You have to be more confident!" Gabriella, the young, curvacious brunette stepped forward to let herself be better seen. She had long flowing hair and equally warm brown eyes. "She's quite attractive," said Donnie. "But --" "Can I be honest with you?" said Marney. "Most of the people that come in here are very, well, ugly. But you're not. You're a very handsome man. So, if you had your first time here with Gabriella, and vice-versa, that would be very, very nice. Now, keep in mind, if you do refuse she'll probably have to do it with some bald lardo. Not that there's anything wrong with that." Donnie thought for a moment. "I'll go with Gabriella," he said. "Alright," said Marney to the girls with a clap. "You can all go now. Except you Gabriella. You must stay behind." While Gabriella applied makeup to her face, Donnie sat on her bed. It was kept in a room no larger than what you'd find in a typical college or university. The walls were adorned with posters of musicians, and celebrities, and beside the pillows sat various stuffed animals. There was a walrus wearing a crown. "Is this really your first time?" said Gabriella, who was applying foundation to her cheeks still ridden with acne. "For money," said Donnie. "Yes." "You look nervous," said Gabriella. "Why wouldn't I be?" said Donnie. "I'm about to cheat on my girlfriend." "That's terrible. Why would you cheat on your girlfriend?"

"She cheated on me..." "Oh, revenge sex. I guess we're gonna do it rough, aren't we?" "...But you know what bothers me the most about her cheating? And all the other things she's done? It's not the deeds alone, no, but the fact that later on she'll be thinking about them. Fantasizing about these men that she's been with, taking these memories home, and getting off on them whether I like it or not. It's the memories that bother me, Gabriella. It's like I'm competing with everyone from her past. I just want to be the only one she thinks about. Is that too much to ask? Or is romance dead?" "I still believe in romance. Sure, it's not gonna be like any Disney movie you've seen, but it's there if you look hard enough." "Lower your standards, huh?" "If you're hoping for your knight in shining armor, or you little virgin princess, then, yeah, you're probably out of luck." "I guess I should accept the fact that society's changed. We don't value the things we used to value, like monogamy, and loyalty to our partners. I mean back in the day people would actually save themselves for marriage. But who does that anymore? People these days are so impatient and immature. If anything takes more than a minute they get annoyed. In the future anything more than five seconds will be way too long." "Hm, you're awfully chatty for a man, aren't you?" "Is that your way of saying I complain too much?" "No, it's my way of saying, quit whining." "Quit whining is it?" "You're a man. Why should you have any complaints? It's a man's world, don't you know? Do you know how lucky you are? Try being a woman for a minute. You'd go mad." "Being a man does not make me lucky. You're the one who's lucky to be a woman. Life's way, way easier for women. Reproduction side effects aside you got it pretty good. Off the top of my head: 1) You don't have to face the fear of rejection. You don't need to ask anyone out for a date. You can just sit around and get asked. 2) You always get things for free. You get picked up, driven around, taken to fancy restaurants, and at the end of the night, who's picking up the bill? 3) And when you're in a relationship it is easy street. The man's always doing the work. He's gotta hold down a career, carry your shopping bags, do repairs around the house, fix your car, take you up and down wherever you want -- it's like having a free servant. But instead of you paying him, he pays you. It's great. Why do you think girls can't stand being single for more than a few months, or, god forbid, a year? Because they can't give up the luxury of having a man around to do their every bidding... Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe women just date around and constantly have men on their arms, because it's an emotional crutch. You know, they have the constant need to be desired and approved by others." Gabriella finished doing her makeup. She turned around to face Donnie. She looked way older than she really was. She looked at least in her twenties. She looked like a real woman. Smelt like one too, with the perfume she had on. (Eau de Minuit.) "That was quite an essay you gave me," said Gabriella. "But I'm pretty sure girls mostly date for the sex." "You really think that?" said Donnie. "Then why do they always complain about it?"

"It's a power thing," said Gabriella. "If you make yourself into the martyr, you can have more room for negotiations in your relationship." "If that's the case why do women fake orgasms? Wouldn't that be contrary to their goals?" "That's all part of the trickery. We don't fake orgasms. We make you think we fake orgasms." "Diabolical --" "So," said Gabriella, "you got any more complaints? Or was that everything?" "I could've went on," said Donnie, "but I didn't want you to think I was a misogynist." "I believe the word is masseuse," said Gabriella. "Um..." "Anyways, I have some complaints of my own, if you don't mind." "Yeah?" "Like... Like..." "Go on." "Like, uh, you know, when a man dates an attractive woman more people become attracted to him. But in the reverse that isn't true. What gives?" "That's because women don't think like men. Women see a man with a really gorgeous woman, probably way too good for him, and they think: 'What's she so interested in? There must be something I'm not seeing. He must have some special value.' Then there's the other thought that follows: 'If I steal him away, I'll be just as attractive as her.' Thinking he has some sort of special criteria for a partner. Now, for men it's not quite the same. When an average man sees another man with a hot lady, the first thing he thinks is, 'Oh. Used goods.'" "So a woman is used goods? But when a man sleeps with a lot of women, then he's a stud? A woman does the same she's branded a slut? What's that all about, huh?" "Think of it this way: When a lock can be opened by any key it's considered a terrible lock. But when there's a key that can open any lock it's called a master key. See, a woman is the lock, and a man is the key." "Did you make that up on your own?" "Of course not. I heard it from a hobo." "Let me get this right, you take what a hobo has to say seriously?" "Wait. Actually. Come to think of it, I think the reason we have this 'dichotomy' between men and women, when it comes to labels and promiscuity, is really because of the effort involved." "Hmm?" "Hear me out. If a man sleeps with a lot of women he is thought of as a stud." "Okay." "If a woman sleeps with a lot of men she is thought of as a slut." "Okay." "BUT! If the man has only slept with prostitutes, or paid for sex, what is he then?" "I don't know." "He is not a stud. He is a trick, which is a negative label. He gets the negative label, because he did not go through all that trouble of finding and seducing any women. He took the easy route and simply paid for it. Likewise when a woman sleeps with a lot

men it takes little to no effort to do so -- all you have to do is be there and say yes. That's why they get called sluts, this terrible name, when they sleep around, because it takes no exertion, determination, or great will power to do so. On the flip side when a man does the same, without paying for it, he gets called a stud, because it took great skill to achieve his task. See. What we're really focused on is the effort. Nobody likes it when people get things on easy street. It's like how we hate trust fund babies. 'Oh, you started a business and you're super successful now, Mr. Trust Fund Baby?' Yeah, that's because of Daddy Warbucks!" Donnie let out a breath. "Hold on," said Gabriella. "What's wrong with paying for sex?" "Oh," said Donnie, "you wouldn't understand, you're a whore." "Hey! I'm not a whore. I'm a provider of much needed services." "Right and I'm here to do your taxes." "You have a way with the ladies, don't you?" "I'm only trying to explain the world to you. I'm not saying I think it's right." Gabriella snarled. "Like I said before," she said, "it's a man's world. There's always a double standard for us women. When a guy gets older he gets more attractive. When a woman gets older she's an old bag. When a guy's single he's a bachelor. When a woman is over thirty and single she's a spinster. It's a crock, I tell you." "Don't get angry at me," said Donnie. "I didn't make it up. Honestly, I'm all for equality and women's rights. Why, I'm thinking of opening a shelter for battered women. Isn't that something nice I'm doing on behalf of men, hm?" "And who's been battering the women?!" Gabriella said with a raised voice. "Jeez, you're temperamental." "I'm sorry. I'm in a bit of a mood today. All this 'men are like wine and women are like cheese' talk normally wouldn't bother me, but I just remembered my boyfriend yelled at me in the morning. It's got me a bit sour on the male species." "Wait. You have a boyfriend? Aren't you a prostitute?" "Yeah, what's it to you?" "You're cheating on him." "No, what I'm doing isn't cheating. I've never lied to him. Or tried hiding anything about myself. He knows exactly what my job. You on the other hand, you're the one who's cheating, or you're about to." "I still think what you're doing counts as cheating." "Regardless, we're both going to have sex, and it should be a good one. Better than usual, I'm sure." "Why'd you say that?" "You know this already: Relationships magnify emotions (good or bad). Everything's twice what it should be. You probably wouldn't get the same rush doing this if you were single. There's just something extra satisfying about betraying someone you love, who's hurt you real bad." "She did it to me first," said Donnie. "I know, baby," said Gabriella. "Now shut up and let's get it on." She pushed Donnie onto his back, straddled his waist, and tore off her blouse. "Do you like what you see?" said Gabriella.

"Oh, it's, um, nice," said Donnie. "Touch them" said Gabriella. Donnie touched Gabriella's perfect breasts. They were firm and shapely, yet soft and supple, not too big and not too small. As he stared at them Gabriella slowly peeled off his underwear. She took out his you-know-what and slowly began kissing it...but nothing at all happened. It stayed as soft as ever. "You're not getting hard," said Gabriella in a frustrated voice. "Hello! Is anyone home?" "Stop it," said Donnie. He pulled away and sat up. "Can't you see I can't do this?" "Why not?" said Gabriella. "I don't want to cheat on my girlfriend." "Too late. You already cheated." "No!" "Yes! I touched it! It counts! And guess what else?" "What?" "I'm telling her." Donnie paused and stared at Gabriella, as if he was trying to burn a hole through her head. "You don't know who my girlfriend is," said Donnie. "I read the tabloids," said Gabriella. "Kate Witman, no?" "Are you being serious? Because this isn't funny." "I know it's not funny." "Why are you doing this?" "I know you're rich and you think I'm just a whore. I figure I should act like one." "Is too late to late to retract my statement?" "Probably." "So, you're really blackmailing me, huh? I know you're a prostitute and all, but I thought you'd be better than this." "Okay. Fine. You don't have to pay me, if you really don't want to..." "Thank you." "...But I'll just let everyone know that you slept with a 14 year old hooker." "I didn't sleep with you." "Didn't you?" Donnie retrieved his pants and took out his cheque book. "Alright, how much?" he said with a sigh. "Let's not discuss money," said Gabriella. "It's quite rude." "Then how will I know what you want?" said Donnie. "I'll write it down and give it to you," said Gabriella. Gabriella got a slip of paper, and pen, and wrote down a figure. She handed it to Donnie. Donnie looked at it and twisted his face. "A million dollars?!" he said. "Oh, I forgot to add the decimal point," said Gabriella. "Either way I'm not giving you that amount," said Donnie. "Actually, I'm not giving you anything at all. I've changed my mind." He stood up and went to the door, but Gabriella blocked his way. "Okay," she said, "I'm willing to negotiate."

"I'm not negotiating with you," said Donnie. "You're okay with me telling your girlfriend what happened?" said Gabriella. "I don't really care anymore, and, even if I did, it's my word versus the word of some teenaged hooker who's probably had more abortions than a Russian woman. In short: I think I should be fine. Don't know why I didn't realize this a minute ago." "I'm not letting you leave." "Who's stopping me?" "Could you hold on a minute?" "Hm?" Gabriella walked to her dresser and opened a drawer. When she turned around there was a Polaroid camera in her hand. She hastily positioned herself in front of Donnie -- so that they would look together -- and took a quick snapshot. A square sheet, with a thick white border, ejected from the camera. Gabriella held it in her hand and waved it about. "I'll show this to every media outlet I know," said Gabriella. "Not only will I get good money for it, but they'll eat it up. How does that sound? 'Computer Entrepreneur Takes Advantage of 14 Year Old Girl.'" Without warning, Donnie lunged at Gabriella. He grabbed her by the shoulders, and threw her down, then put himself on top of her, and squeezed her face hard with a single hand. "Look here," said Donnie. "You don't know what you're dealing with here. So, I'm going to give you a second chance. You leave me alone, and leave my girlfriend alone, and I won't hurt you. Is that a good deal? Am I negotiating properly?" Gabriella burst into tears. "Oh, oh, oh wait, oh no," said Donnie, having a change of heart. "I was just pretending to be tough. A bit of acting, you know -- like my girlfriend! Please don't cry. I'm, I'm sorry." Donnie lifted Gabriella to the bed, and the two sat beside each other. Donnie consoled Gabriella while gently rubbing her back. "Are you okay?" he said. "I'm sorry for being such an a-hole." "I'm fine," said Gabriella wiping her tears. "You don't need to apologize. I deserved it." "Here," said Donnie, "let me make it up to you." And he took out his chequebook -- once again. Chapter 44: Did You Miss Me? Finally, after three months, Kate had finished principal photography for her new movie. While her airplane touched down on the taxiway, John awaited her in the terminal. He held up a white sign that read: "Ms. Witman." At this moment Kate left Gate 4. Obviously tired she was wrapped in a scarf, and wore a hat, with big Jackie O sunglasses, trying to stay incognito. She didn't want to talk to anyone that she didn't know or give out any signatures or autographs. In fact some people had recognized her and she had just went past them like they weren't there at all. "Ms. Witman!" said John.

Kate turned her head and saw John, who was surrounded by paparazzi. Bottom of the barrel photographers. "Ms. Witman," said John, "so glad to see you after all this time." He shook her hand. "How was your flight?" "The usual," said Kate. "People kept walking through the aisles to see me. They pretended to be going to the bathroom, but I knew otherwise." "How unfortunate," said John. He looked past Kate. "By the way, where is your assistant? Sandy? She isn't in the washroom, is she?" "No." "No?" "No. I sacked her a week ago." "Why's that?" "She was trying to get into show business." "And that was a problem?" "If it's on my time, yes. I mean really. I was paying her good money for her full attention, and she didn't give it to me, so I let her go. Is that unreasonable?" John thought for a moment. "Let me take your bags for you," he said. "Thank you," said Kate. As paparazzi followed along, John dragged Kate's luggage outside. As Kate was about to go into the limousine awaiting her a young man with a flowers, a teddy bear, and chocolates jumped out at her. He was short, had bright yellow hair, parted to one side, and a polka dot bow-tie. "Ms. Witman!" Troy said desperately. "I've been waiting all day for you! I come bearing gifts!" John was busy putting away the luggage into the limousine's trunk. It slipped his mind that he also had to double as a bodyguard. "Get it?" Troy continued. "I come bearing gifts? I have a teddy bear for you!" Kate lowered her sunglasses. "Look here," said Kate, "could you chat me up another time? I'm kinda busy at the moment." "Kate, I know you think I'm like all the others," said Troy, "but I'm not like them. I'm different." Kate had heard that line thousands of times before. She returned her sunglasses to the on position and rolled her eyes. "I'm sure," said Kate. She smiled a fake smile. Troy then gave his three gifts to Kate. "I hope you like it," said Troy. "I cashed in all my rolls of pennies to afford it." "Did you now?" said Kate, genuinely feeling sorry for the poor sucker. "How long did it take to collect those pennies?" "A year," said Troy. "A year?" said Kate. "Oh my. How nice of you. I do appreciate it, I really do." "Do you think we can go out on a date some time?" "A date? I'm sorry. I already have someone." "You do?"

"Yes, but if I didn't, I'm very sure I would accept. You are quite attractive for a man of five foot two, and you don't have that angry chip on your shoulder that short guys usually have." "Really?" "Yeah." "Oh, Kate, Kate, you're da best That's why the whole world loves you." "Mm, yes, the whole world minus one." "Huh?" John returned and started shoving people out of the way and yelling. "Get out of the way damn it!" he said. "Make some room!" He opened the passenger door for Kate, and closed it firmly when she got inside. Kate sat down on the nearest seat. The partition between driver and passenger was already up, allowing any needs for privacy. "Donnie!" said Kate, seeing Donnie across from her. "I thought you couldn't come." "The meeting got canceled," said Donnie. He looked at the things in Kate's arms, the teddy bear, chocolates, and flowers. "Oh, yes," said Kate, noticing, "these are for you." She handed Donnie what she was holding as their limousine started to take off. "For me?" said Donnie. "Wow. You've never done anything like this for me before. It's really sweet of you." "Is it?" said Kate. "It is," said Donnie. Donnie went over to Kate and kissed her on the cheek. He put his arm around her as well. "My girl," said Donnie, grinning, "the romantic." "Not that romantic," said Kate. "It's just chocolate and cheap flowers and a stupid stuffed bear." "No, no," said Donnie, "don't diminish it. I love it all." Donnie kissed Kate again. "Did you miss me?" "Being away from you was so awful," she said. "I know," said Donnie. "It felt like you were gone forever. Not actually forever, because that would be impossible. A million years isn't even forever." "That's very nice of you to say." "So, how was the flight?" "Besides everyone trying to take a peek at me? Not bad. Tiresome yet interesting." "How's that?" "I sat beside a Middle Eastern man. He told me the world was going to end in the year 2001, and he kept staring at my cleavage, but in a disappointed manner, which I found quite odd." "Oh, Lord." "I also went to the bathroom and saw some interesting graffiti." "What was it about?" "It was an anonymous quote. It said: 'The opposite of love is not hate; it's apathy.' That kind of blew my mind."

"Okay, but I have a question. If apathy is the opposite of love, then what's the opposite of hate?" "Uuh, apathy?" "So apathy is the opposite of both love and hate?" "Yeah, see, uh, because they're both very similar. They're both emotions that require a great deal of caring and passion." "By that definition many emotions or states of mind would be the opposite of apathy. Obsessive compulsive disorder for example." "No, that's different. Hate and love run in the same circles. See, you can never truly hate someone, unless you've truly loved them." "I don't think so. Are you saying that everyone who hates Hitler has loved him at one point in time?" "You know, there are worse people than Hitler. I don't know why it's always Hitler who's the most reviled man in history." "Can you name someone worse?" Kate was silent. Donnie continued. "I don't think people understand what an opposite is. An opposite is something that is in opposition to something else that shares a common characteristic. It's confrere. So, an opposite for an emotion has to be an emotion. A state of detachment, or devoid, or an absence of emotion doesn't count. Like take black and white. They're opposites. But the opposite of either isn't blindness, or nothing, which is what apathy seems to be. Okay? The opposite of food isn't hunger. It's drink. The opposite of a Liberal isn't an anarchist. It's a Conservative. Now I understand the confusion, but you have to draw the line somewhere. The devil is in the details." "Well!" said Kate, finally. "What've you been up to while I've been away?" "Not much," said Donnie. "I've been catching up on work. Relaxing. Hanging out with my friends." "What friends?" said Kate. "George, and Allison, and Pearl," said Donnie. "I don't know if Pearl counts as a friend. She's more your worker." "Anyways, I've also been spending time on my computer. Hanging out in the AOL chat rooms." "On the internets?" "Internet. There's no letter 'S' at the end." "And what do you do in these chat rooms?" "Talk to strangers." "Why would you want to do that?" "You can meet anyone in the world. Including assholes. Isn't that interesting?" "I barely care about our neighbors, why would I want to meet someone that lives across the ocean?" "Good point, but the internet is more than chat rooms. You can visit websites and find any information you want." "I can do that at the library." "You can also do e-mail." "What's that?"

"You can send mail electronically. It's almost instantaneous. I sent an e-mail to an old friend of mine and it only took ten minutes to transmit." "That's nice, but it's not as nice receiving an envelope in the mail, now is it?" "You have something against the internet, don't you?" "I just think it's a fad. I can do everything ten times better off the internet. Everything you described is something that I can do better elsewhere." "It's not a fad, Kate. The technology is nascent. You know, one day you'll be able to watch TV on your computer." "Again, I can do that on my TV perfectly fine, on a big screen TV." "Hm. Alright then, I guess I can't convince you. Kate patted Donnie on his knee in a patronizing manner. "By the way," said Donnie, "did you get any of my letters?" "Sure did," said Kate. "Thank you. They were very sweet." "But I never got any letters back," said Donnie. "I'm sorry. I was so busy. I didn't even have time to go to the post office." "Aah, you're always so busy. Have you ever considered another career path that's less busy?" "Never. Why? Do you want me to quit? And why do you want me to quit?" "Kate, I hardly get to see you...and when you're away you're doing things that hurt me." "It's just pretend." "Fine, let's say that it is. Then what about when you're actually here? We can't even get any privacy or alone time. I know it's part of the parcel, it's your job, but I can't help but feel the way I feel. This whole thing, I'm... I'm so stressed out." "You don't think I'm stressed out either?" "Kate. I have daymares about you, and when I go to bed, I have nightmares. I'm lucky if I get four hours of sleep." "Wait. You have nightmares? What are they about?" "A lot of it's abstract bullshit, but they're mostly about you and me...and sometimes someone else." "Tell me at least one of them." "Well, the last I remember, we were walking through a clear, glass structure that was suspended by wires to the ceiling of this ancient building. We kept going in and out of these empty rooms, but when we got to the last room, we found these two nesting dolls sitting in the corner. They were of the both us. One of you and one of me. I picked yours up, and I opened it, and each time I discovered a new doll it revealed a different image of you." "What about yours? Did I look at your nesting doll?" "Yes. But yours wasn't like mine. When you opened the outer layer of my nesting doll, all you found inside was blood, and lumps of coal." "...You know that dreams don't mean anything, right?" "I think they have meaning. They tell us about things we ignore when we're awake." "Whatever. I don't like the idea of you having nightmares about us." "Then why don't you help make them stop?" "What's that supposed to mean?"

"A little change never hurt anyone." "You want ME to change? No, no. I don't think I should, because clearly I am not the one with the problem. If you ask me there's something wrong with you. You have a low self-esteem or something. You always have a problem with everything I do. The way I dress, the way I socialize, my friends, my career -- like what do you actually see in me? Why are we together?" "...Because I love you." Kate suddenly had a guilty look on her face. Then she leapt forward and gave Donnie a big hug, squeezing him in her arms. Donnie let out some breath as he felt his lungs get smaller. "I'm so sorry," said Kate. "There's nothing wrong with you. It's my fault for always being away. I'm such a jerk." "You're not a jerk," said Donnie. "I am! I'm the biggest jerk there ever was," said Kate. "I'm acting exactly like my parents. When we were a family it was always work, work, work for them. They were only focused on their careers. They never had time for each other." Kate nuzzled Donnie's face. "From now on," she declared, "things are going to be different." "Just like that?" said Donnie. "Just like that," said Kate. "I'm going to treat you like you deserve to be treated." "And what does that entail?" said Donnie. Kate whispered something into Donnie's ear. To that he raised his eyebrows. Chapter 45: TGTBT Some dates later, and a good amount of effort, Kate and Donnie's relationship was all patched up. They took a day out of their busy schedules and made plans for a vacation to escape the dreary weather. Cuba, they figured (where all things red, white and blue are banned), would give them the R&R that they both very much needed. Chapter 46: Paradise Walking along the beach, Donnie and Kate held hands. With the sun going down, and the sky red-orange, they ignored any eyes that would stare. The time here was between them and them alone. Warm sand went between Kate's toes. "This weather is amaaazing," she said "I know," said Donnie. "Not like Canada at all." "We should consider moving here," said Kate. "Um, I don't think my wealth would like communism," said Donnie. Kate brushed some sand off her shoulder. "By the way," she said, "how do you like my bikini?" Donnie looked at Kate's one piece, white bikini. "It's very nice," said Donnie. "I like it." "Thank you," said Kate. "I wore it just for you." "What do you mean?"

"I know you like it when I'm modest and covered up, so I thought I'd pick something befitting. See: My butt's not spilling out, there's no midriff, and, above all, no cleavage -- which you always say reminds you of a plumber's arse crack. It's quite virginesque, don't you think?" Donnie looked at Kate's bikini again. "Kate," he said. "I appreciate it, but you really didn't have to." "I wanted to," said Kate. "I wanted to please you. You're always grousing about me dressing too provocatively and saying how I only do it for attention. Which isn't necessarily too far from the truth. But now I'm wearing something nice. Shouldn't you be happy?" "Very happy. I'm always happy when I'm with you. But if you choose to wear something modest, I want it to be natural. I don't want it to be forced. I'm not trying to boss you around." "It's not forced. You're not bossing me around. This is how I wanted to dress. It was my choice alone." "So, you're pro-choice, huh?" "Isn't everyone?" Donnie gave that a minute. "Well, it does seem kind of spur of the moment though," he said. "I've never seen you like this. For once your face is actually your focal point." "I hope that's a compliment," said Kate. "Sorry, I didn't mean it to come out that way. Not making a big deal out of this, but it is an oddity. And something must've sparked the idea. I don't think it was all just me." "Actually, uh, I was talking to my dad on phone and somehow we got into why he used to make such a big deal out of my clothes when I was growing up. I used to think he was just being a prude, but then he explained to me the nature of man, and how they think, and he went into this whole long lecture about primal instincts, and hormones, and evolution, and chemistry, and, and...it was a really long speech." "The gist of it is?" "The gist of it is you don't wanna attract the wrong attention by wearing the wrong clothes. You don't wanna attract guys who are just interested in your body. Sure, dressing skanky catches the eye right away, but it's cheap. You have to think about romance like going out into the job world. Dress for success. Because you will be treated as what you appear to be. Also, if you look smart, and modest, and coordinated, you will appeal to those people who have those same qualities. Basically: Tits out you're gonna be treated like a tit." "A wise man your father. But I have a question for him." "What is it?" "How come when you catch a woman in her bra and panties unexpectedly she gets disturbed, but when she's seen in a two piece bikini -- which is pretty much the same -- why doesn't she care?" "I have some questions of my own first. How come men have nipples? And how come women have to cover theirs up, but you don't have to cover up yours?"

When Donnie couldn't answer, looking dumbfounded, Kate bent over and picked up something that looked like a disc. It was off white in color, had a flower marking in the middle, and five pill-shaped holes. "What's that?" said Donnie. "A sand dollar," said Kate. "If you can skip it three times across the water you get a wish." "What if you can only skip it once?" said Donnie. "You die," said Kate. "Okay," said Donnie. "You go first." "I won't have a problem with that," said Kate. She took her sand dollar, angled her body, and threw it out to sea. The sand dollar skipped four times. "My best one yet!" said Kate. "Four times," said Donnie. "That's quite impressive, my dear, but what does it mean?" "It means," said Kate, "um, I dunno. I've never done it more than three times before." "Lemme give it a shot," said Donnie. He did just like Kate did, and threw out his sand dollar. The sand dollar skipped exactly three times. "You did it!" said Kate. She jumped up and clapped. "What're you gonna wish for?" "Well, let's see," said Donnie. "I have more money than I could ever need. I'm not too bad looking -- if I must say so myself -- and I'm boyfriend to the most beautiful woman in the world. I don't think I need a wish to be honest. You want my wish?" "Wishes are non-transferable," said Kate. "Since when?" "Since forever!" "Okay. I'll make a wish. I wish for more wishes." "You can't do that." "Why not?" "There are rules to wishing." "Okay, I know what I want." "What is it?" "I thought saying a wish aloud would nullify it." "That's only for your birthday." "Right." "Now, what's your wish?" "I wish that you would love me. Forever, and ever, and ever. Or, that being impossible, the rest of my life." "That's so cheesy -- and really damn romantic." Kate put her arms around Donnie and gave him a kiss on the cheek. After making "love," Kate and Donnie held each other in their arms, in a tent that they had set up upon the sand. The sun had finally gone down and turned the day into night.

Only twinkling stars were left in the cloudless sky. Donnie rubbed Kate's arm, warming her up as the weather became cooler. "Should I get a blanket?" said Donnie. "No, I like it when you warm me up," said Kate. Donnie and Kate kissed again like any couple would. Kate turned to Donnie, who was now on his back, and rested her head on his chest. "I love you so much," said Donnie. "Romance overload," Kate joked. "Hey," said Donnie, "when we get married where do you think we'll have our wedding?" "A wedding?" said Kate. "No, no wedding." "What do you mean?" "Weddings are so damn pretentious. If you're going to get married, then get married. Why inconvenience everyone and shove it in their faces? It's really just a way to show off." "Here I thought weddings were every girl's dream." "I'm not like most girls." "Not even close." "I hope you mean that in a complimentary manner." "I do." Donnie held Kate tighter. "Actually," he said. "I really am surprised by what you said." "Really?" said Kate. "Not wanting a wedding," said Donnie. "That's weird. I always thought women were more romantic than men." "Women are not more romantic than men. That's my opinion as a female." "How do you figure?" "See. Women like romance, but they don't like doing romance. They just don't do it, because it's not required to seduce anyone. If you've noticed, all the great romantic ideas and gestures are done by men. You ever see a man receive flowers? You ever see a woman get down on one knee and propose? And think about the greatest romance novels and movies of all time -- Romeo & Juliet, Casablanca, Wuthering Heights, Dr. Zhivago, The English Patient -- who wrote them?" "Men?" "Exactly." "Wait a minute. Wuthering Heights was written by a woman." "Yeah, but of the five it's the worst." "I guess I shouldn't tell you that I enjoyed reading that novel." "Did you? Ha-ha." Kate smirked. As she laid with Donnie, listening to the beat of his heart, he suddenly sat up. "What's the matter?" said Kate. "Why don't we go out and do something?" said Donnie. "I thought you wanted to relax," said Kate. "That's not what you want, is it?" "No, but I want to do what you want to do."

"And what I want to do is what you want to do." "Seems we're at an impasse." "Rock, paper, scissors? I win we do what you want, you win we do what I want?" "Sounds like an idea." So, Donnie and Kate put their hands out, and played: Rock, Paper, Scissors. Donnie won three rounds of five rounds, with paper against rock, rock against scissors, and paper against rock. The other rounds that went to Kate were rock against scissors, and scissors against paper. "Looks like I won," said Donnie. "Boo," said Kate. "What do you want to do?" said Donnie. "I feel like dancing." "I hate dancing." "Alright, we won't do it." "No, no! We're going dancing. That's what you want and that's final." "You sure?" "Uh, where're we going dancing again?" "A club." "Oh, Gawd." "What? Where else would we dance?" "Clubs are the worst. They're loud, smelly, full of drunks, and whores. It's a breeding ground for cocktail babies." "Now what about the bad points?" Kate playfully whacked Donnie on the shoulder. "Just kidding," she smiled, "we'll do something else." Donnie and Kate walked around, taking in the sights of this quaint foreign country, which seemed 30 years behind the rest of the modern world. There were a lot of artifacts from an era gone by, especially those big, bright, muscular cars that you'd see in old, black and white TV shows. "Do you think they'll ever lift the embargo?" said Donnie. "That's about as likely as a chimp going into outer space," said Kate. "Sooo, you're saying never?" said Donnie. "Never say never. I'm just saying it's not likely." "Ah, I guess I like it better this way. It's nostalgic." Donnie and Kate crossed the street. As they walked down the sidewalk, enjoying the fresh air and stars, a sound of music entered their ears. The music was lively and young, yet had an old, classical feeling. "Ooh, a club," said Kate, looking on, craving to let off some steam, and have a dance. "Isn't that nice?" She twirled her finger in her hair. "We're going," said Donnie. "But!" said Kate. Then in a turning of tables Donnie pulled along Kate. But moments before they were about to enter the club a galloping donkey, being chased by its owner, ran onto the street, and jumped onto Donnie's foot. "AAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" went Donnie.

"Ay, caramba!" went the owner of the donkey. Kate held Donnie as he leaned back to relieve the pressure on his toes. "Donnie," she said, "are you okay?" She turned to shake her fist, and yelled at the fleeing donkey and its owner. "You dumbasses!" "Yah, I should be okay," said Donnie. "But I don't think I'll be able to dance anymore." "It's okay," said Kate. "I'm gonna take you back to the hotel and we'll put some ice on your little piggies." "But the club?" said Donnie. "I don't need to go." "No, no, I refuse. I won't ruin the night." "You have to, you're hurt!" "Kate! I want you to have some fun for once while I'm around. So let's go to the club or we'll just argue about this some more." "I can't." "I'm telling you, I'm fine. I just have swollen toes that's all." "But what's the point? You can't dance." "We can enjoy the music. Maybe we can have some drinks?" "I dunno." "Please. Let's have some fun, huh?" "And your foot's gonna be alright?" "It should be." "Then I reluctantly accept." "Attagirl. Now let's hurry up before it gets crowded." Donnie hobbled along with Kate, and went inside the club called "Club Precio." They went to the bar area and sat on some stools. They glanced around, noticing the atmosphere. It was loud, hot, humid, and exotic. Half dressed tourists and locals danced to the feverish music being played by the local band, which made Kate full of envy, as she too wanted to dance to the Macaroni. The Macaroni was a Spanish song (playing on loop it seemed) that was all the rage at this time. "Saludos," said Vinicio. "What can I get you?" "What do you want?" Kate said loudly to Donnie, trying to overcome the noise. "I'm not in the mood for alcohol," said Donnie. "How about a cola?" "And you, senorita?" said Vinicio. "What do you recommend?" said Kate. "You blancas seems to enjoy the mojitos," said Vinicio. "'Ow about that, ah?" "That will be fine," said Kate. Vinicio heard a voice and looked to his side. "Ah, excuse me," said Vinicio. "I will be back in a moment." Then he left never to be seen again. "Where is that bartender?" said Kate, after waiting for more than ten minutes. "Maybe we should go somewhere else?" said Donnie. "This visit's been a waste," Kate sighed. "I can't even get any free drinks now." "What makes you think you would've gotten free drinks here."

"It doesn't matter what country you're in, Donnie. A girl will always get free drinks at any club. Of course as long as the bartender's there." "But you know that they're just looking for a 'good time' right?" "I know. 99% of guys being friendly to you in a club -- or anywhere else for that matter -- are looking for a 'good time.'" "And you accept drinks, knowing that?" "It's a bit like gambling. You put in some coins and maybe you'll get three cherries. Usually not." "Hmm..." Kate yawned. "I guess we should going now," she said. "Why don't you have a dance first?" said Donnie. "But your foot's hurt." "You can go without me." "Won't you get annoyed?" "No, you go and enjoy yourself." "Really?" "Yeah." "Okay!" said Kate, and she jumped off her stool, and went to the dance floor, looking for a partner to dance with. "Um, don't hesitate," said Donnie. Donnie watched Kate in the sea of people. It was about 10 seconds before she had found a man willing to dance. Many, many men willing to dance actually. Kate looked flustered, but in a very happy way. "Everyone's so friendly here," thought Kate. "Now who should I dance with?" Her eyes moved toward the six foot, broad shouldered man, with the chiseled jaw, and bulging arms. His name was Adriano. "My beauty," said Adriano, "would you care to dance?" Adriano took Kate's arm, and ran his nose across it, like he were giving it a smell. "Yes," said Kate. "Why don't we dance?" So, Adriano led Kate to the middle of the floor, and the two danced to the song called the Macaroni. Adriano was quite skilled. His movements were fluid, and it seemed that he could shake or wave any part of his given body. Kate took a strong liking to him, especially when he spun her out gracefully, and brought her back in. Now he stood behind her, while moving his hips; he smiled, and wrapped his arms about her, letting his head rest on her shoulder. He was doing that weird type of hug. You know, the one that only a man does to a woman, where he gets directly behind her, and grasps her almost as if he is going to put her in a choke hold (but doesn't). Kate was impressed. Yet she pushed Adriano away, and went onto the next man in waiting. On vacation, after all, she had to sample all the flavors this country had to offer. She danced, and danced, and flirted with the movements of her body, until she was almost blurry eyed, and in a sweat. "Wow," Vinicio the bartender said as he cleaned some glasses, "that girl has got the moves. If I had the time, boy, the things I'd do to her." "She's my girlfriend," said Donnie. "Ah-ha," said Vinicio, "I knew that. I was only kidding."

"It's okay," said Donnie. "I'm not too annoyed." "I don't know how you can stand it. If I had a woman like that I'd be more careful. After all, dancing is really a mating ritual." "Since when?" "Since the dawn of man, hermano. We been doing it longer than the peacocks. When a male dances it is to show the female that he has strength, energy, and flexibility, and coordination, all which are required for hunting." "That's silly. We don't hunt anymore." "Unfortunately, you can't beat mother nature. All these desires are built into the female psyche, and instinctively they go for men, who look like they can hunt. Why do you think they prefer taller men? It's because they're more likely to be better hunters; better hunters means better providers; better providers means being able to raise children; raising children means you can pass on your DNA. So really all these complications are for the continuation of your genetics. Which is basically the point of life." "Wow. You seem well read for a bartender." "I have a PhD in sociology." "And you're working at a bar?" Vinicio sighed. "Communism," he said. "Yeah, that's real nice," said Donnie. Donnie turned his head away and continued his spying on Kate. Kate who was having plenty of fun, dancing, bumping, and grinding the night away, with just about anyone that was willing. And it appeared that everyone was willing. She was the center of attention. Maybe some people had caught on to her fame, as a few of them were taking pictures, and asking for kisses on the cheek, to which she naturally obliged. Donnie grumbled. Seeing his girlfriend swivel, and turn, and move her hips, with all these other people, made his stomach violently churn. The cola in his hand, with its half melted ice cubes, did nothing to settle it. He balled his hand into a fist and then leapt off his stool. He pushed through the crowd and found his way to Kate. He pulled her away from the fellow who was rubbing his crotch area on her bum. "Donnie," said Kate, "what're you doing here? Is your foot feeling better?" "I need to talk to you," said Donnie. "About what?" said Kate. Then at this moment Adriano appeared, returning to say, "Wait your turn, mister." Donnie turned around, so fast as to be almost imperceptible, and put his finger in Adriano's face. Without wavering, or even flinching, he said through his teeth, "I'm talking to my girlfriend. Do you mind?" Adriano left. Donnie went back to Kate, giving her his attention once more. "Are you okay?" said Kate. Donnie's face was red, despite not having drunk any alcohol. "I'm more than okay," said Donnie, "but I'd like to speak to you outside." "Now?" said Kate. "But I was having fun." "I know," said Donnie. "That's the problem." So Kate followed Donnie outside, and they went to a dark corner, where prying eyes could not see. Donnie put his hands on Kate. He ever slightly leaned forward. The fear of God came into Kate's eyes as her boyfriend looked like he was about to explode.

"Kate," said Donnie. "Do you think we could call it a night? I'm feeling very tired now." "Alright," said Kate. "But is your foot okay?" "It should be fine," said Donnie. "I can put it on ice." "Maybe I'll give it a rub too?" said Kate. "That would be nice," said Donnie. "Then let's go," said Kate. Then she put herself beneath Donnie's arm, and helped him into a taxicab that she had called. The two returned to their hotel to spend the rest of their vacation without trouble, incident, or malady. They flew home on perfect weather. Chapter 47: The Calm A ring came at the door. Donnie rushed out in an apron and went to answer it. Kate stepped in to escape the rain. "Sorry about that," said Kate. "I forgot my keys." "That's okay," said Donnie, putting out his arms. "Let me take your jacket." Donnie took Kate's wet jacket and hung it on the coat rack to dry. "Mm," said Kate, sniffing the air, "I smell something delicious. Did you make dinner?" "Yes, I did," said Donnie. "Would you care to join me for a midnight meal?" "I'd be delighted," said Kate. "But just gimme a moment." Kate went to the nearest bathroom and cleaned up. When she returned Donnie had pulled out a chair by the dining room table. (The dining room, which was adjoined to the kitchen.) Kate sat down to be served. "Finally," said Kate, "I get to enjoy one of your famous dishes. So what's on the menu, chef?" "Tonight," said Donnie, "we dine on grilled lobster tail, with butter, lemon juice, and fresh home made biscuits. Also we have a bottle of Chteau d'Yquem 1969 and for dessert strawberry pie a la mode. Any questions?" "Why haven't we started eating yet?" said Kate. So Kate and Donnie sat down to have dinner, despite the late hour. Kate drank some wine, and then had a bit of her biscuit, and then some lobster. "How is it?" said Donnie as Kate was chewing. "Mm, the best lobster I've ever had," said Kate. "You don't have any objections to a man cooking, do you?" said Donnie. "No. Come to think of it most of the world's top chefs are men. Let's see, there's Colonel Sanders, Dave Thomas, Ronald McDonald." "Ronald McDonald isn't real." "I know that. I know there isn't really a clown selling hamburgers. But it's based on a real person." "Oh, okay." Donnie drank some wine. "So," said Kate, "do you think we should get a second butler?" "A what?" said Donnie. "John would be devastated."

"I don't think he would," said Kate, "it would free up some of his time." "This place isn't even that big. Do you want a fourth person living here?" "Hm, good point." "Oh, by the way Allison wants to know if you're going to help out with her school fund raiser. I know you're busy, but --" "Don't worry. I'll be there. It's good publicity." "You always have acting on your mind, don't you?" "It's what gets me out of bed in the morning." "By the way I forget to ask... How was your day?" "I knew something was amiss... Uhm, it was okay. I finished shooting those commercials for Eau de Minuit, and I went out for a last minute audition." "How'd it go?" "I wasn't right for the role, they said." "That's something I don't understand. They say you're not right for the role. But if the role was made after you came into existence, shouldn't that be reversed? You were here first. Really. The role isn't right for you. That's what I think." "This is the first time you've been optimistic. It is optimism, right?" "Nah." "Oh, you know what? I bumped into my best friend." "You have a best friend?" "Uhm, not exactly. Well, she was my best friend. In high school." "And what happened?" "She got mad when I dated the guy she was crushing on, and then stopped talking to me." "All that for just a crush?" "Yeah... But she didn't think it was a crush. She thought they were soul mates actually, which kinda makes me regret taking his virginity. Poor girl, thought she'd have it when they got married. Neither happened by the way." "God, Kate. You know the rule we made up." "Right. Don't ask; don't tell." "Yes." "By the way I don't think we're the ones that made that rule up. Pretty sure other people do it too." "Yeah, so, back to your story. You met your former best friend, and then?" "Not much. Lacy and I had a little chat. Apparently she's a waitress. She was complaining about how black people don't tip." "I tip at least 50% whenever we go out." "I don't think that counts." "What do you mean?" "You're not exactly, erm, the spitting image." Donnie glanced at his reflection. "Anyway," he said, "I still think she's being a racist." "Me too," said Kate. "I'm not going to contact her again." "So what else did you do?" said Donnie. "Aaah, let's see, I think that's it. Wait, no. I had someone propose marriage to me."

"What?" "Yeah. He got down on one knee, grasped my hand, and then asked me to marry him." "You need a bodyguard." "I don't need one." "Some nut asks you to marry him and you don't need a body guard? What if he gets obsessed and tries to do something to you?" "Relax. You're so paranoid. No one's gonna do anything to me." "Because you have me to protect you, right? Heh." "Sure. Whatever you say." "But, man, it's so crazy the way people act around you. I'm still not used to it. You don't think it'll get worse, do you?" "If things go my way, yeah, it might get worse." "I just don't understand these people. Why do they act so creepy when they meet celebrities?" "It's because they can't separate the actors from their characters. Which is understandable when you're a kid, but as an adult? Kinda sad." "I don't think that's it." "What's that?" "I don't think that's the reason people act weird toward you." "What's the real reason then?" "I think that they're in awe. You know, like, when you see a really attractive person -- famous or not -- your brain kinda goes out the door." "I guess that makes sense." "Must be annoying though, huh, all those drooling men?" "No. You know what annoys me?" "What?" "The phoney suck ups. Like I bumped into this girl, who used to bully me all the time in school -- literally made me eat dirt -- but now that I'm a bit famous she's all nice and pleasant to me. Gee, I wonder why? Oh, I know, she's a weasley cunt, who only wants something from me!" Donnie couldn't help but laugh. "You have a way with words, my dear," he grinned. "Oh God," said Kate. "I sound like one of those people, don't I?" "What people?" said Donnie. "You know, you see them on TV, those celebrities, complaining about their lives. 'Oooh, I'm a famous millionaire celebrity. But my life is so tough. I got a bit of depression. Wah-wah.'" "But this is different. This is a conversation between the two of us, and no one else, not even John, who I tend to tell everything to." "You should stop that. He's starting to look at me funny." "Is he?" "Unfortunately." "...But yeah, back to what you're saying. I don't think there's anything wrong with complaining...even if you are rich or famous. I mean what's wrong with it? Shouldn't everyone have the right to express themselves?"

"I dunno. I don't like to be whiny." "No, I think you should complain, if you have a complaint. Otherwise you'll go crazy. See, that's why those celebrities and singers get hooked on crack, because they bottle up all of their complaints --'cause no one's willing to listen to them, or they think that they shouldn't have to complain -- and then it just comes out as toxic waste. See, look at me. Look at how healthy I am. I complain all the time. I get to have a release. Just because I'm rich doesn't mean I shouldn't get to complain. Everyone has problems. Anyone should be able to say what they want, if they want, doesn't matter whether you're poor or swimming in money. Why should I lose my voice because I'm a bit more fortunate? I worked hard to get where I am like anyone else." "So when should we high five ourselves?" "Kate. I'm being serious. If you ever have something to say I want to hear it. Don't worry about sounding spoiled or whatever. Because I know what you're going through. I went through it myself. You're having your first taste of real success, things around you are changing, you have all this pressure, and you aren't sure how to deal with it. Well, I'm telling you how to deal with it: Let me be your confidante. Let me know what's on your mind. Don't keep it in. I promise I will never judge you." "Mm, I'll try," said Kate. Then she finished her lobster and dabbed her mouth. At this moment Donnie stood up and walked to the kitchen to get dessert. "While you're in there," said Kate. "Could you bring the cassette player? I feel like listening to some music." "Sure," said Donnie. And a moment later he returned with desert -- strawberry pie with ice cream -and a cassette player as well. He set it down in front of Kate and returned to his seat. "Are there any batteries?" said Kate. "Yep," said Donnie. He wolfed down some pie. "I went to the convenience store and bought some while you were gone. 8 D batteries!" "Is that a fact?" said Kate, and she put a cassette into the cassette player. When she pressed the play button a song came through the speakers...and set off something inside of Donnie. In his mind's eye he had become surrounded in dark, and there were images flashing across his face. They were showing his girlfriend and all that she had done -- or rather who she had done -- and put her on display, being intimate with all the men she had been intimate with, and when she had flirted, and when she had cheated. It made him remember everything, even the movies and TV shows. It all mattered, for some reason, in this blink of time. The ugly monster jealousy had reared its head for the chart topping pop song called the Macaroni. "Donnie?" said Kate. "Are you okay?" Donnie got up from his seat, walked over to Kate, and took the cassette player sitting in front of her. He ejected the tape, as she watched (wondering), and yanked out its magnetic ribbon, letting it all fall to the floor. "I hate that stupid fucking song!" he yelled. "What's gotten into you?" said Kate. "I'll tell you what's gotten into me," said Donnie. "You have no respect for me. I do everything for you and what do I get in return? Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" "So all this time I've spent with you is worth nothing?" said Kate.

"Don't talk to me about 'all this time,'" said Donnie. "I hardly even get to see you, and when you're away, what're you doing? Acting like a whore." "Is what what you think I am?" said Kate. "Just a whore?" "You're not 'just a whore,'" Donnie said in a pontificating manner. "A whore is sometimes pleasant to be around. You're worse than a whore. You are an adult, who has the brain of an underdeveloped teenager. Youre whiny, spoiled, and you cant get enough attention. You have no real self-esteem to speak of and you only feel a modicum of happiness when getting ogled by people that dont even know you. Actually, come to think of it, I think thats why you became an actress in the first place: for the attention, purely for the attention. But can I blame you? Of course not. Youre just trying to fill in that void your parents left behind when they split up... Or maybe you're distracting yourself from the fact that you're the one that caused them to divorce. Because you're the one that put a wedge between them by being the needy, stupid, little baby that you always are. Sure, they spent too much time on their careers, but what little time they had left for each other you took away. You were the thing that destroyed their romance." Kate glared at Donnie. "And you know what you are?" she said. "What?" said Donnie. "A NIGGER!" said Kate. "Deep down inside you're still a nigger. It doesn't matter what you look on the outside you will always remain what you once were: a nigger. That's why you're so fucking insecure, because you know you're really a nigger, a dirty fucking nigger." Kate, in tears, slapped Donnie across the face as hard as she damn well could, and then she ran upstairs and disappeared. Chapter 48: The Break All the furniture remained in Kate's room, yet with all of her nicknacks gone it felt so bare. Donnie laid in her pink bed, staring up at the textures on the ceiling. There was a piece of paper on the nightstand, a letter, telling of what happened. "Dear Donnie," it read. "In light of what recently happened, and what words were exchanged, I believe that is in our best interest that for now we stay apart. A break from each other would do us some good. Maybe we might forgive each other. Maybe we might not. What matters is we have time to ourselves to think and reflect. Please don't come looking for me. I only want what's best. Sincerely, Kate Witman." A knock came at the door. Knock, knock. "Master Donnie," said John through the other side. "Are you alright in there? Shall I put on a pot of tea? Master Donnie?" "I'm not in the mood for tea," Donnie said lethargically. "It reminds me too much of Kate. She used to make the best tea. It was always the right temperature." "I'm sorry," said John. "I didn't mean to open old wounds." "Never mind the apology. Why don't you come in and stop talking to me like I'm a leper from India?" "But you yelled at me earlier and told me to stay out." "Yet you come to offer me tea?"

"It's more habit than kindness really." "Oh. Okay. But I still want you to come in and have a chat. The door should be unlocked. I forgot to lock it after I went to the toilet to throw up." "Alright," said John. Then he slowly let himself inside Donnie's bedroom. "Well now," he continued, "it's nice to see you again." "You know what the worst part of a break is?" said Donnie, still absorbed in his own matters. "What's that?" said John. "Nobody writes down the rules. What exactly am I supposed to do on a break? I'm so bored." "You don't know?" "I have an idea, but I'm not too sure. I'm not a relationship type of person. You know, I've only ever had two girlfriends. Including Kate." "Who was the other?" "Crystal." "I've never heard of her before. When was this?" "A long time ago. I was seven years old? It lasted about a week until she traded up to the boy with the chocolate biscuits." "How pathetic. I mean how sad." "Granted, they were pretty good biscuits." "I bet they were." "Anyway, what were we talking about again?" "Breaks. What you're supposed to do when you're on one." "So yeah?" "Well, on a break, youre supposed to go out and date other people. Then if you fail to find anything better you go back to your old relationship, which I'd say is a safety net. Though this mainly applies to the person who initiates the break." Donnie sat up, real quick. "Wait, what?" he said. "I thought it was so you could take time and reflect on how you could improve your relationship, and then later make it better." "Um, no," said John. "That's not what it's for." "Wait, wait, wait," said Donnie in a panicky voice, "so Kate's going out dating other people?" "I believe so." "But just dating?" "And the things that come along with that." "What things?" "Physical intimacy." "Sex?" "Maybe." "You're lying." "Don't be so naive. I haven't pulled this out of my arse. It's existed for quite some time now." "I, I, I, I --"

Donnie started having trouble breathing. John thwacked him on the back to put him back in order. "Relax," said John. "I'm sure she isn't doing anything. Maybe she is just reflecting." Donnie stood. "I'm going to see Kate." "Don't do it," said John. "You'll only upset yourself." "No, I have to! I have to see her!" "You're acting mad. Calm down for a moment." "NO! I WILL NOT CALM DOWN! YOU CALM DOWN! YOU SHOULD BE THE ONE THAT IS CALMING DOWN! YOU NON-CALMER DOWNER, YOOOU!" And with that the door slammed shut. Donnie had stormed out of the room, leaving John to be on his own. Using this time wisely he took no pause to roll his eyes. Rain carried through the dark sky. Donnie drove with his windshield wipers on the highest setting, and cut through a road to visit a rundown motel, where he was informed Kate was staying. He got through the little archway, booked a room so as to not be suspicious, and parked his car across room 117, which oddly was placed on the second floor. Donnie had his body turned to the window, spying with a pair of black binoculars. He became restless, waiting, and waiting, watching the door. Time went by second by second. The pitter-patter of the rain only made things worse. "That's it!" said Donnie. "I can't take it anymore!" Then he got out of his car and marched to room 117. He stood in front of the door about to knock, but then he had the urge to do a bit more spying. He stepped to the side and looked through the rectangular window. Kate was inside doing something very unusual. She was sitting on a man's back, who was on all fours, using him like a chair, making utterances of religion, and saying things like, "I am the Queen of Narnia!" "The hell is going on in there?" said Donnie. He made his hand flat and wiped some water off the window, through which he did his peering. He looked once more. This time Kate was on her back, in bed, receiving a back massage. The television was left on, playing a commercial for the perfume Eau de Minuit for which she represented. The commercial made no sense at all; however, it did feature partial nudity and romance. Donnie groaned, "Even the TV is against me." As he stood by the window he noticed that the man Kate was with was coming toward the door. Donnie looked around, trying to think of an escape, but when his legs started moving the motel room door came open. The man from within tapped Donnie on the shoulder. "Excuse me," said the man. "Are you looking for someone?" Donnie straightened up to face the man. "Oh, yes, um," he said, "my, uh, friend told me to meet her here, but it seems I've forgotten her room number. Silly me." "You could go to the front desk and ask," said the man. "It'd take but a second." "It's so obvious now," said Donnie. "I should've thought of that earlier." He casually snapped his fingers. "What was I thinking?" "Mm, you take care now," said the man.

He began to turn. "Hold on a second," said Donnie. "Yes," said the man. "I don't mean to be creepy here, but while I was glancing in your window, looking for your friend -- uhm, uh, my friend -- I noticed you giving that woman a massage. Are you a masseuse?" "Yes, actually, I am." "That's great." "Is it?" "Uuh, yeah. I think so. Making sure people are relaxed, and things like that, it's very important. You're right up there with chiropractors." "Thank you, thank you very much. Not many people appreciate what I do." "By the way do you have the time? It seems I've lost track of it myself." "I'm glad you asked." "Oh?" "I purchased a brand new pocket watch the other week. I was hoping to make some use of it." "How interesting." The man Donnie was speaking to reached into his pocket to pull out his pocket watch. When he took it out something small and square fell to the floor, but never mind the man pressed a button to reveal the face of his pocket watch. "It's a quarter past one," he said. "That late?" said Donnie. "Unfortunately," said the man. "And that means I have to be going now... Toodles!" "Yes, erm, toodles," said Donnie. Then Donnie watched the man, who had visited Kate leave the motel. After he was out of sight Donnie bent over and picked up the thing that he had dropped while reaching for his pocket watch. What he found was a condom: extra large. The extra large condom sat atop the dashboard of Donnie's car. At this late hour he drove around aimlessly in the rain, trying to calm his nerves. He went back and forth in his mind about who that man from the motel was, but mainly fantasized about pushing him off of a cliff. "Grumble, grumble," went Donnie. He was so irate that he could not even speak. He continued in this manner, driving from street to street, road to road, killing time. Soon after traveling half the city the fuel gauge on his car sat on the letter E, indicating he was out of gas. He pulled into a 24 hour petrol station to rectify the situation. As Donnie was pumping gas he noticed another car pull up. An ugly thing it was, but inside contained a beautiful girl. She stepped outside, smiled, and waved. Donnie squinted, not sure if he was being waved at, but it seemed that way as he was only one around (besides the attendant inside the store). "Donnie Underwood!" said Sandy. Sandy, Kate's former assistant, walked over to Donnie, and up close he recognized who she was.

"Is that you, Sandy?" said Donnie. "Good to see you too," said Sandy. "What're you doing here?" said Donnie. Despite the obtuse question, Sandy did not act condescending. "Same thing you're doing," said Sandy with a giggle. "Filling up." "Ah, yes, of course," said Donnie. "What I meant to say is -- what're you up to? In general?" "Same ol', same ol'," said Sandy. "Running the rat race. Trying to avoid starvation." "Oh, that's right. My girlfriend fired you from your lucrative assistant position... Actually, I'm not sure if I should say 'my girlfriend' anymore." "Why? What happened? Did you finally dump her?" "No." "She dumped you?" "No. We're on a break." "That's interesting. I thought you would've dumped her by now." "What makes you think I'd dump her?" "Between you and mean she's a bit of a --" "A?" "I shouldn't say." "Say it. I don't care. If I'm honest, I'm pretty pissed at her right now." "She's a fucking bitch." "She's not a bitch!" "I'm sorry. I, I was out of line." "It's okay. I shouldn't have raised my voice... By the way, just outta curiosity, what makes you think that she's a bitch?" "Well, working for her was a nightmare. She'd call me names, she'd yell at me, use me as a foot stool, make me rub her stinky feet, and call me in the middle of the night to make her marshmallow sandwiches. Honestly, who eats marshmallow sandwiches?" "People without teeth?" "AND when she got drunk that time she tried sticking her tongue down my throat, then put M&Ms in my shoes as a prank. Hmph! Can you believe it? A person like that actually had the audacity to fire me." "But she said it was because you were getting distracted. You were trying to get into show business. She didn't want your divided attention." "You actually believe that liar?" "Yes?" "Here's what happened. She was trying to hook up with the director, but instead he took a shining to me. She got jealous and I got shit canned." "Who was the director?" "Tim Curtain." "That guy who directed that movie about that guy who had knives for hands?" "Yup. That would be him." "But why would she try 'hooking up' with him? He looks so weird and creepy." "Power's an aphrodisiac to women, isn't it?"

As Donnie thought what to say next, thinking about what Sandy had told him, Sandy combed back her long wet hair with her fingers and fluttered her eyes. "So, you're really on a break with your girlfriend, huh?" she said. "I guess," said Donnie. "You know what that means," said Sandy. "What?" "You can have a little fun." "I'm sorry. I've already crossed that option out of my mind." "Have you?" Donnie, in his car, followed Sandy down a dark road. For every turn she made he copied until eventually they both came to an apartment building. The apartment building was wide as it was tall, and had an open parking lot, which anyone could use if not spotted. Here Donnie and Sandy parked beside each other, and then stepped outside. Sandy took Donnie by the hand and led him along. "I've never been with a millionaire before," said Sandy. "What's it like being rich -- if you don't mind my asking?" "Um, well," said Donnie, "being rich is like being on permanent vacation, except there're a few more problems." "You have problems?" said Sandy. "Yes and I'm quite annoyed that they're always being dismissed by society. People have this belief that being rich will solve all your problems. It doesn't solve all your problems. I mean what do they really think? That having a few extra zeros on your bank statement will suddenly make you impervious to emotions?" "I wouldn't know. I've never been in that situation." "Trust me, some days it's just not worth it. Money attracts trouble." "What type of trouble?" "People. People who only want you for what you have. Be that money or fame, take your pick." "You think I'm trouble?" "Maybe. I still can't forget that story you told me at the restaurant all that while ago." "Okay. I have a confession to make." "Oh?" "I kinda embellished that story I told you." "Did you?" "Yeah... The truth is much worse." Donnie and Sandy went up a flight of stairs as the elevator was broken. They made haste into unit 969, and, wasting no time, grabbed each other everywhere like the world was going to end. They kissed, and kissed, swapping fluids, but a few exhausting minutes guilt started kicking in. Donnie wiped the slobber off his mouth and pulled his head away. "Stop," he said, catching his breath. "I'm having second thoughts." "Are you sure?" said Sandy.

Then she ripped off her own shirt, revealing her bare, shapely chest, and glistening body that almost looked silver under the light. "Never mind," said Donnie. Then he kissed Sandy's face, and licked at it as if a dog (or some type of animal), and worked his way down from her neck to the area that made babies. Sandy arched her back and moaned in pleasure, so loud that a knock came from the floor. A listening neighbor had problems with the noise, but Donnie and Sandy didn't care. They made their way into a bedroom, the only bedroom, and continued what they were doing. Donnie threw Sandy onto the bed and laid on top of her. He put his head to the side, beside her head, and blindly thrust his hips in the darkness. As Sandy screamed profanities, Donnie felt himself about to climax.. "Come inside of me," Sandy groaned. "No," said Donnie. "Yes!" said Sandy. So then Donnie grabbed Sandy's shoulders and violently pulled toward her body, one, two, three, four, five times total. Now having finished he stopped his moving. The room became silent, except for the sound of sweaty, heavy breathing. Donnie felt weak, literally drained. He let himself go limp and began to weep. It wasn't a flood of tears, but a few hardly noticeable drops. That's all they were...is what he thought. 5:36 AM when the sun had begun to rise, Donnie slipped out of bed, leaving Sandy behind. He crept through the hallway, and went down a set of stairs. On the main floor he heard the chirping of birds, which was something he had not heard in years. He looked out through the glass to see them and then went through the door marked exit. But as soon as he stepped outside he was bombarded by a group of photographers. "Cheating on your girlfriend, huh?" said one of the photographers. "I don't know what you're talking about," said Donnie. "I'm only..." "Only what? Only what?" said the paparazzo, interrupting, trying to draw out a response for his video camera. "Only been screwing around with other women? Hmmm? Is that it?" "Excuse me," said Donnie. "I have somewhere to go." "What's the rush?" said another voice from the group. Donnie kept his head down and continued walking to his car. As he was about to get to his destination Sandy, out of the blue it seemed, came running out of her apartment. Wearing only a short bathrobe and a pair of slippers, she waved a black square. "Donnie dear!" she said. "You forgot your wallet!" All the photographers turned around at once, and formed a semi-circle around Sandy. As Donnie was receiving his wallet from Sandy one of them got real cheeky by taking a lewd up-skirt photo. Not literally an up-skirt photo in this particular case, rather a picture taken in the same style. There were hopes that Donnie's doxy was not wearing anything beneath her robe. "Hey, guys," grinned Bernard, "I think got a good picture." "Gimme that!" said Donnie, then he grabbed Bernard's camera, and turned the tables; he began taking photos of the photographers. "How do you like that, huh? How do

you like having your photos taken and having your fucking privacy invaded?! HUH?! ANSWER ME!" Bernard wrestled with Donnie to get his camera back, but Donnie kept him at bay by pushing him in the face. "Let go!" said Bernard, who was at least a head shorter than Donnie. "This is assault!" "I'll show you assault," said Donnie, and he pulled back his arm, and walloped Bernard in the face, sending him to the soppy ground. Bernard held his eye, writhing in pain. "You bastard, you hit me!" "You deserved it," said Donnie without a hint of remorse. "Don't pretend you didn't." "I think you broke something," said Bernard. "Good," said Donnie. "Maybe you learnt a lesson." The paps, unsure how to proceed, or whether to help, kept their distance about Donnie. To them he turned up his nose and simply walked away as if nothing at all had happened. Chapter 49: Compensation The phone pressed up against Donnie's ear. He looked anxious mumbling into the receiver. "C'mon, pick up," he said. "Pick up the phone, Kate." "Excuse me," said John. "There are some people here to see you." Donnie glanced at John, who was just behind him. "Tell them to go away," said Donnie. "I'm trying to do something. Can't you see that?" "She hasn't answered any of your calls," said John. "And I'm afraid I can't send away a police officer." Donnie crept to the entrance of his mansion. He looked through the spyhole and saw three people standing together. There was: a police officer (officer Dick), a man in a suit with a briefcase, and the photographer that he had assaulted only a day earlier. Donnie slowly opened the door, one of two. "Hello, gentlemen," he said. "How can I help you three?" "Good evening," said Officer Dick. "I'm here about an assault charge." "Assault charge? For what?" said Donnie. "I don't know what you're talking about." "We have photographic and video evidence," said the man in the suit, who was clearly a lawyer. "Let's not pretend you didn't do what you did." Sheldon, the lawyer, cleared his throat awaiting a response. "So what do you want?" said Donnie. "That depends," said Sheldon, "on how you negotiate with my client and I. Now, I see several options: We can sue you, we can press charges and have you arrested, or you may compensate us out of court and we'll be out of your hair, so to speak." "You know," said Donnie, "my lawyer is one of the best in the country. Seth Sinovich. Perhaps you've heard of him?"

"I have," said Sheldon. "Because he's my brother in law, who I might is a generous old soul, who'd do anything for me. He's good like that." "Why don't you come in?" said Donnie. "Welcome to my home by the way." After Sheldon and Bernard introduced themselves, Donnie took them into his mansion. First thing they did was head into the kitchen to have some drinks -- Donnie's way of buttering them up. Perhaps if they were inebriated they'd be in a jollier mood. Talking to them like a friend wouldn't hurt either. "Thank you for your very expensive champagne," said Sheldon. "You have an incredible home here." "You must have a nice home too," said Donnie, "after all you are a lawyer." "Not of yet," said Sheldon. "Though I'm working my way up to the rich area of our city as we speak." "Hm, isn't that nice?" said Donnie. "You have some ambition. Unlike some people here." "I have ambition too," said Bernard the paparazzo. "I'm going to be a famous photographer one day. Like Ansel Adams or Nick Ut." "Is he the one who took that picture of that Vietnamese girl?" said Donnie. "Kim Phuc," said Bernard. "No need for swearing," said Donnie. "Anyway, would you two like anything to eat as well? "Ooh, I see what game you're playing," said Sheldon. "Trying to make us fat and happy, aren't you?" "Maybe," said Donnie. Then he took out more alcohol for his "guests" to drink. While Sheldon restrained himself Bernard indulged. He seldom drank Cristal. Actually, not at all. "Easy on the alcohol," said Sheldon. "So!" said Bernard. "Why'd you cheat on your girlfriend? She's really attractive." "I didn't cheat," said Donnie, trying to keep his cool. "We were on a break and I went to visit a female friend. You don't even know what happened inside there." "I'm not judging you," said Bernard. "I know what you're going through. As a paparazzo -- I mean a photographer -- I've met many celebrities in my life time. I even dated a famous actress once. Lemme tell you, it was nothing but headaches. Y'know, I thought she'd be normal, not like what they said she'd be -- but I was wrong, wrong, wrongity, wrong! But think about what actors and actresses are. They are a people, who crave fame and constant attention. Anyone who wants that has to be a little off, don't you think?" "Mmmaybe," said Donnie. "I mean it's a tough gig being in a relationship with a celebrity," said Bernard. "All the flirting they do, all the provocative clothes they wear, all the people who wanna get in their pants because of the provocative clothes they wear, and the high expectations that they have for their relationships is taxing. And on top of that they fly up and down the country, making kissy faces with other people, fake fucking whoever's in their movies, and then when they got some down time they want you to drop everything and come to them at the snap of their fingers. Not only that but they expect you to be as sweet to them as everyone else, all of those worshipers. But how can anyone live up to that?

Those fans are nuts. They'd be willing to lop off their arms for a single date. That's romantic and all, but don't you think it's a little over board?" "I reluctantly agree," said Donnie. "I tell you it's not worth it," said Bernard. "Find a nice, normal girl, man. Or go and meet someone at the library. Find a girl, who's a book worm. Book worms are smart, they're quiet, low maintenance, and won't attract trouble with breast baring t-shirts, and hiked up miniskirts. Okay? Don't date celebrities or actresses, if you want to preserve your sanity. They're more trouble than they're worth. They're like a bad case of herpes." "Kate's not like herpes," said Donnie. "Either way," said Bernard, "I know what you're going through. Even if we forget the fact you're involve with an actress, women in general are just trouble. Fun trouble, but trouble nonetheless." "All of them are trouble, huh?" said Donnie. "Do you know who made up that saying: 'Women, can't live with them, can't live without them'?" said Bernard. "Who said that?" said Donnie. "A woman," replied Bernard. Donnie, Bernard, and Sheldon looked at each other, and then sipped their drinks. "I'm not trying to be offensive," said Bernard. "I realize there's a legitimate reason we don't get along and it's not anyone's fault. Females just aren't like men. That's all. They operate differently, and we don't understand that. We really, really don't understand that. For example, fashion: Women willingly wear shoes that cramp their feet, they wear short skirts in the winter, they wear things that restrict their breathing, and they put on underwear that uncomfortably rides all the way up their butt-cracks. Now to us guys that seems crazy, but to them it makes perfect sense, because they're living a different world. They're living in a 'woman's world.'" "What do you mean by that?" said Donnie. "I always thought it was a 'man's world.' At least that's what I've been told." "No, no, no," said Bernard. "Each gender lives in their own world. You have the man world and the woman's world. The man's world is pretty bad, but it's not as bad as the woman's world. The woman's world is super, ultra competitive. That's why women wear those skimpy, uncomfortable clothes, because they're trying to complete with each other. They're always trying to compete and be more attractive than the 'other woman.' With guys we wear what we want, we go for comfort, because we're more confident, and we're not always trying to contend with other people. Clearly the psyche of the genders is vastly different. For example: A woman sees a man more attractive than her and she starts thinking about how she measures up, and how she's not good enough, and all that. A man sees an attractive woman, who is way too good for him, and thinks right away, 'Yeah. She must like me a lot.' Doesn't matter how fat or how smelly he is, or how much of a bum he is. Men have that over confidence, which I think females need a bit of." "Can we hurry this up?" said Sheldon. "What's your point?" "I'm saying," said Bernard. "Women have self-image problems...and they shouldn't. They're wonderful, and smart, and beautiful, but the way they work and think sometimes drives us men up the wall. But you wanna know something? As maddening as women are actresses are even madder. They're like bats in the belfry." "Yes," said Sheldon. "Bats and rats and things like that."

"I'm not so sure I agree...yet," said Donnie. "Don't get me wrong," said Bernard. "I'm only trying to sympathize with you, Underwood. I'm not as old or as wise as you, but I find that you can't be in a healthy relationship with someone if they don't feel absolutely good about themselves, and often times women -- younger women, and actresses in particular -- don't. They should, but they don't. So there's a lot of sorting out you have to do with those types." "I dunno," said Donnie, who was now feeling a bit tired. "It's not their fault though," said Bernard. "It's not your fault your girlfriend is a bit off-kilter. She is working in an industry that judges you on every single flaw you have. And 'cause of that actresses like Kate have low self-esteems, and when you have a low self-esteem, and you have those insecurities about being wanted and popular, you're gonna behave a bit -- how should I say -- fucked up?" "She's not fucked up," said Donnie. "Alright, maybe I was coming on a bit too strong," said Bernard. "But you have to admit that she probably has some problems. Because that's how celebrities are. They have so many mental problems, like, way more than the average person. But it's because of that toxic environment they're in. It makes you feel way worse than you should ever, ever feel. Even the most beautiful women think they're not good enough. You know Marilyn Monroe?" "The world's most famous whore?" said Donnie. "Um, yeah," said Bernard. "But she looks amazing, right?" "I guess," said Donnie. "Did you know she had surgery on her nose?" said Bernard. "Maybe her schnauzer was too big for her face," said Sheldon. "It wasn't!" said Bernard. "That's my point. She looked perfectly fine. She looked stunning, yet she went under the knife to have her face 'corrected.' How sad is that? A dynamite woman like Marilyn Monroe feels she needs to fix her face! Because these actresses and celebrities all live in this little bubble, where everything isn't good enough. I say fuck that." "That's good advice," said Donnie, "but I can't exactly make Kate quit 'the business.' She'll never quit. She's a work-a-holic. Do you know what her idea of relaxing is? Doing voice overs for TV and movies, and photo shoots...or photo op, whatever you wanna call it." "That's something else that cheeses me off," said Bernard. "Photo shoots. You take a beautiful person, who is a ten out of ten, and then you go, 'Let's make it better.' Then you make them do these ridiculous poses, in these ridiculous clothes, and then you put up all these ridiculous light, and makeup, and after all of that...you doctor the photos afterward. Talk about overkill. What are they trying to sell? Are they trying to make people feel bad? Because these little girls see that bullshit and think, 'I gotta be like this.' And they can't, they never can, and it destroys them. And furthermore what's maddening and perplexing about the whole thing is even though these celebrities know exactly what's going on, they fall prey to their own illusions, and start thinking that's how they have to look all the time. Who can keep that up with that without losing their mind?" Donnie poured another drink for Bernard. "I tell you," said Bernard, "people don't understand. Having to be that attractive is a curse. Looking beautiful all the time is a major pain in the ass. Not only does it set you

up for failure, but it's goddamn exhausting. You have to work out all the time, wear the perfect clothes, spend hours on your hair, and have that thin little mask that you call makeup, and FOR WHAT? To get asked out by jerks, someone who only cares about your looks. That's what you get in return for your efforts -- jerks! Because jerks are the only ones arrogant enough to think that they can get in your pants, and they do, because you have nothing else kicking around; meanwhile nice guys are too shy to ask you out, because they're too humble, and think you're way out of their league. So, what's the point of that shit? All that maintenance for nothing, just to please someone you don't really like that much in the first place. I say to women stop wasting your time with makeup. You look more than good enough without it. I know, you're going, 'Wah, wah, but what if my face has these minor imperfections (and they are minor) and someone steals my man?' Look, ladies, I have a plan. If you all agreed not to wear make up, then men would just have to deal with it. Look at us males. We all came to that agreement, a long, long time ago, in a galaxy far away, and we're much better for it. When a girl sees a man without makeup she can't ask him to put on some foundation to cover his pimples. We all just go, 'Yeah, whatever, deal with it.' And we feel great, and we save time, and money. But you know something? I don't think the female species could ever come to an agreement not to wear makeup. There would always be one deviant, backstabbing, little bitch who'd ruin it for everyone. She'd wear makeup to get an upper hand, and then that would cause a domino effect. It's quite a shame really." "Oh, boy," said Donnie, trying to take in the earful that he'd be given. "If you ask me," said Bernard, continuing in his pontificating manner, "being pretty and beautiful is overrated. If I was a woman, and I had a choice to be pretty or a Plain Jane, I would definitely choose to be a Plain Jane. And it's not just because I don't want the unwanted attention from perverts, and stalkers, and ass kissers, it's also that being pretty makes you crazy. I mean if you're like legit pretty. Some would say beautiful." "We're back on the crazy thing again?" said Sheldon. "So you think being pretty makes you crazy?" said Donnie. "Here's the deal," said Bernard. "Pretty girls, I mean the real, real pretty ones, are not good at making friends with their own gender. Why? Because others girls are jealous, envious, and catty. So, what happens? The pretty girls go to the male-friends bag -they're much more friendly -- but what they don't know is that these men are only nice 'cause they want their, excuse my language, pussy. And depending on how pretty you actually are they'll tolerate a lot of your bullshit. So, while they're tolerating your bullshit you begin to develop this warped view of the world, and you don't follow the same rules as the less attractive mainstream society. And you get used to the idea of being worshiped, and you become this greedy, crazy, self-centered idiot, who thinks that 'my way or the highway' is a reasonable negotiation tactic. And as everyone grows up, you start shrinking, and atrophying as a human being, because you, as a pretty person, have not been required to use your brain, or work hard, or employ whatever cleverness you could have ever had. Batting your eyelids, and flirting with a man, who might be willing to spend his life savings on you, is enough to get you what you need. In a way it's sort of like being a celebrity in your own little world. You're trapped in this bubble." "That doesn't sound too bad," said Sheldon.

"That's not the whole story," said Bernard. "See what happens is as a pretty person, remember, you will have an underdeveloped, insane, selfish, sometimes retarded personality. And it's fine for a while, because you can make up for it with your sexy body, but long-term that is not enough to get you through life. When the people around you start growing the fuck up, and you start severely aging, the jerks that used you for sex are done with you, and all those nice guys that you never pursued, or who never pursued you, are already married to smart, kind, attractive-in-their-own-way women. Yet at this stage you still hang on to the idea that you're one in a million, and by the time you come to realize that now you're just like everyone else -- because what you had is gone, and you realize your bullshit was in fact bullshit -- it's way too late to do anything about it. Everyone good is gone, and your only companions are your cats. They're the closest things you have to actual friends. You've become the crazy cat lady." "How many cats exactly makes you crazy?" said Sheldon. "Ten is where it starts," said Bernard. "Wait," said Donnie. "I don't I agree with what you said. Not every pretty girl is crazy. Or unreasonable, or stupid, or selfish, or has a personality deficiency. Or whatever you lectured us about." "Of course, of course," said Bernard. "Oh, I agree. Because you also have the late bloomer pretty girls, who develop their personality first, and get their looks later on." "Best of both worlds," said Sheldon. "But incredibly rare. Like a Mew." "Oh and then," said Bernard, continuing, "there's the ones that are not crazy, or unhinged, or ridiculous. Some of them know what they're doing. Some of them are conniving and smart, and use their good looks to get what they want from others. Basically, they're pretty and they know it. So, they have a particular M.O." "Modus operandi?" said Donnie. "Yes," said Bernard. "And they do their dates like the stock market. Which is you buy a hot stock, let it go up, enjoy the ride, then dump it at the right moment, and make a profit before it crashes. Do that as many times as you please and reinvest the gains into a blue chip company; collect the generous dividends. That in a nutshell is the conniving, smart, pretty girl's strategy. She plays the field, has sex with all those equally beautiful, young men, gets her hornies out of her system, has all that fun and all those memories, then remembers that she's getting old, or that she has to think long term, and settles down on a less attractive but reliable man to milk him for his stability and consistent, probably fat, paychecks." "Sounds kind of evil," said Donnie. "Yes," said Bernard. "It is evil. We should call them evil as they deserve it." Donnie shook his head. "No, I don't believe what you're telling me. I've met plenty of pretty girls. None of them have been crazy, and they can't have been all conniving, evil girls. " "That's the thing about the crazies," said Bernard. "It's not necessarily apparent when you first meet them or when you first start dating. It comes out when you're in the deep of it. That's when they start reverting to their actual personalities, because even the craziest bitches know that you can't be vinegary all the time if you wanna catch some flies." "So how do I know if she's crazy or evil then, seeing as those are my only choices?" said Donnie.

"Right," said Bernard. "Pretty girls date all the time, evil or crazy or neither, it doesn't matter. What will help you discover what they are is the type of men they date, in particular when they're starting to get a bit too ripe. Real, crazy, pretty girls will date and t-bone a variety of jerks, to feel validated, and have sex, and all that. The other hand an evil pretty girl, for obvious reasons, will mostly go for the richer types. Entrepreneurs, bankers, doctors, lawyers, people with rich parents, and that type of thing. So, if you know someone is who's dating a pretty girl, and you wanna know what's up, look at the both of them. See who's got the larger wallet, and who's footing all the bills on their dates." "Hold on," said Sheldon, "you mentioned lawyers. You don't think that my wife..." "No, no, not Miriam," said Bernard. "You weren't a lawyer when you met. I think she's a later bloomer pretty girl. She's not a typical, selfish, pretty girl. She's not like them. She's nice and pretty." "You're such an expert on this topic," Donnie said, unsubtly, sarcastically. "I should know," said Bernard. "Right now my good pal's being taken for a ride. He got engaged and his finance didn't like her ring...so he had to get her another one." "That doesn't sound so awful," said Donnie. "She kept the other ring," said Bernard. "She has two engagement rings." "Oh," said Donnie. "I knew she was an evil pretty girl the first time I met her," said Bernard. "She was always pushing for marriage. Evil pretty girls tend to push for marriage, if the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is big enough." "I see," said Donnie. "Now the question is," said Bernard, "what type of pretty girl are you dating?" Donnie tried speaking but was cut off. "I think I know the answer to that," said Bernard, "and I'm way ahead of yeh. Look, here's my advice: You need to get a new lady." "Thanks for the advice," said Donnie. "And I can help you find her and snag her," said Bernard. "Amidst my rambling, I have remembered that I have a list in my pocket. Now, this list consists of the seven types of men that women are attracted to. If you can mimic one of these you're in! Alright, here it is." Bernard produced a sheet of paper, with printing, and unfolded it. He read it aloud. The Seven Types Of Men That Women Are Attracted To While men and women share many similarities to each other they are not alike in many ways. For one, women are largely attracted to men based on their upbringing, while males are more concrete in what they like. For women there are basically seven types of men that they are attracted to (in no particular order):

1. Father or Father Figure - If a woman has a good relationship with her father she will seek out someone who is like him. If she doesn't have a father but a father figure, she will seek out someone who is like her father figure. If she has not father at all, nor a father figure, she might look for someone who is quite fatherly. This is why you often see young women dating older men. 2. An Opposite - A woman, who has had a significant and abusive relationship with a male early on in life, will often seek a mate who is the very opposite, both emotionally and physically. This applies heavily to fathers or father figures, but can also extend to others like an an caretaker, guardian, brother, or even former friend. 3. Beloved Sibling - This applies to a male or female sibling. Because siblings, sometimes, can be linked to good childhood memories women will often seek men that are similar to a sister or brother. 4. Best Friend - If a woman has a good best friend, then she may seek a male that is very similar to her or even him. 5. First Love - There's nothing like your first love... Some women constantly try to recapture that feeling. They will date men, who all look or act like the first person they fell in love with. 6. Self - Plenty of women will seek men that are similar to themselves. Likely they think much of who they are and believe that anyone worthwhile would have the same ideals and values. 7. Fictional Character - Much more common that people think. Women will seek men that are similar to a beloved fictional character. Why? Fictional characters, whether from movies or books, often embody the perfect and most romantic individual in the world. They are also good looking, suave, and charming. Who doesn't want that? But keep in mind that the influence of fiction, again, must come from an early stage of life in which a woman is more impressionable. Many women for example seek their Disney Prince. Maybe they like a dark haired fellow, like Prince Eric, or the Beast from... No, maybe not him. But you get the point. Fin. "Huh, what do you think?" said Bernard. "Did you like that touch at the end with my sense of humor?" "Mm, amusing," said Donnie. Sheldon put down his glass and tapped it loudly against the granite counter. "Excuse me," he said. "I don't mean to be rude, but could we start these negotiations soon? If we don't I might start charging by the hour." "Right," said Bernard. "Should we stay here?" "Why don't we go somewhere quieter?" said Donnie.

Sheldon and Bernard followed Donnie into his two level library. Donnie locked the doors and let in the light by drawing the curtains. The library was decorated with wood and gold trimmings, and had books up to the ceiling. "Swanky library you have here," said Bernard. "Thank you," said Donnie. "It's where I go when I'm in the mood to relax." "How many of these books have you read?" said Sheldon. "There must be thousands." "I actually forgot the count," said Donnie. "But I know I've read at least 2,000 of them." "No way," said Bernard. "How do you find the time?" "I read when I have nothing else to do," said Donnie. "Like when I'm in the washroom, or I'm in a line, or I'm waiting for someone. You'd be surprised how much reading you can get done that way. Granted, I also know how to speed read." "Why read that many books anyway?" said Bernard. "The keys to the universe are in books," said Donnie. "Plus sometimes I just need yucks. Have you heard of PG Wodehouse?" "I have not," said Bernard. "I should lend you one of his books," said Donnie. "It would do you some good." At this moment Bernard turned his head and noticed a large sack leaning against a shelf. "Hey, what's that?" he said. "Kate's fan mail," said Donnie. "She doesn't read any of it." "What do you do with it then?" said Sheldon. "Recycling," said Donnie. "Previously it was burning. But I was thinking about rerouting them to a service that deals with fan mail." "Is it expensive?" said Sheldon. "What exactly do they do?" "They write responses, posing as whatever celebrity's hired them," said Bernard. "That's true?" said Sheldon. "So that autograph I got from Stephen Fry in the mail isn't real?" "You think he gets smart by spending his time signing pictures?" said Bernard. "Don't patronize me," said Sheldon. "I'm a lawyer. Technically that makes me a doctor: a doctor of Jurisprudence. So you watch your tongue." "Gentlemen," said Donnie, "let's not argue. We're all friends here, no?" Sheldon folded his arms. "I know," said Donnie, "why don't you each help yourselves to a package from Kate's fan mail? That'd be nice, huh? You can each have a gift to take home. Go on. It's okay." Bernard and Sheldon looked at each other, then went over to the sack, which contained Kate's fan mail. They each took a box. "Let's sit down," said Donnie, "and see what you guys got." So on that everyone sat around the table to open their packages. "What did you get?" said Donnie. Sheldon held up his "prize." "A box of chocolates," he said. "Not bad at all. They're the good quality brand too. Pot of Silver too! I think I'll give it to my wife for our anniversary." "Alright, your turn," said Donnie, speaking to Bernard.

Bernard went into his trusty satchel and took out his keys. He took a single key and ran it down the tape of the box that he had taken. When the flaps popped open he looked inside. "Jackpot!" said Bernard. "Mashenka," said Sheldon. "What did you get?" Bernard took out a portable cassette player. "A Walkman," said Bernard. "I've always wanted one of these." "There's a letter there too," said Donnie. "What does it say?" Bernard picked up the letter that came with the portable cassette player. "Dear Kate," he began reading. "I know you probably won't see this, but if you do, I want to let you know... I love you. I love you more than anything on this living planet. You are more beautiful than the sun itself... And although I have been recently upset by your snuggling and kissing of other men, I forgive you, because I know that the tabloids are full of fibs. They fool us and they trick us. They mix together truth and lies, so that we will believe what they say... But the truths they tell us are only there to support their web of deceit... By telling us a grain of truth, then adding a string of lies, we think, 'If the first one is true, the second must be too.' [But that isn't the case.] "And for that reason, my Kate, I know that you are a still a virgin, despite what they say, and you are my dear, dear sweet heart. But even if you really did those things they say you did, with those men, I know that they meant nothing to you, and that you never enjoyed any of them, not even for a second. The only reason you would do such things is out of desperation and loneliness, and not because of any real love... Because how could you? How could you ever pleasure yourself with someone who is not me? My Kate, I know that it is none of my business, but I cannot help but think of you and be so concerned... As you are my reason for living. You are why I go on. You are my destiny and my fate... Please love me as I love you, and write me back, for if you do, I will be, finally, a happy, happy man. LOVE, THE MITCH. "Post-scriptum, I hope you enjoy the song I wrote for you... And while you're listening to it please do not hold onto other men by their sides and kiss them on their shoulders. As well do not let them rub up your thighs as you might soon gain an ill reputation.... Hugs and kisses, my one and only, my soul mate." Bernard winced. "That's oddly specific," said Sheldon. "You know what's more odd?" said Bernard. "The overuse of the ellipsis... But, yeah, the letter's really creepy." "Actually," said Donnie. "That's not the worst." "There's worse?" said Sheldon. "Oh, yeah," said Donnie. "One parcel we got there was used underwear in a Ziploc bag." "Women's underwear?" said Bernard. Donnie shook his head. "Oy," said Sheldon. "Well then," said Bernard, "I guess we should skip listening to the tape in the Walkman, huh?" "No, let's listen to it," said Sheldon. "It might be worth a laugh. Underwood, you got a ghetto blaster?"

"Sure do," said Donnie. "Let me go get it." For the moment Donnie left, and later returned with a boombox. He set it onto the table and inserted into it the cassette tape from Kate's fan. He put his finger on the metallic play button and pressed down. At first there was no sound, but then a song came through the speakers. A man with a falsetto voice sung against an acoustic guitar: "Oh whoa, whoa, uh! Oh, whoa, whoa, uh! Baby, baby! You're my baby! Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby! Baby, baby, baby, oh baby! Baby, baby, oh! Baby, baby, oh! Be my baby! You'll always be my baby! But maybe, baby, I can be your baby too! Woo-hoo! Ooohooooh!" "Oy," said Sheldon, holding his ears, "turn it off! I'm getting Mnire's!" Donnie turned off the boombox. When he tried returning the tape to Bernard, Bernard pushed it back. "You keep it," said Bernard. "Alright," said Donnie, "if that's what you want." "Know what I want?" said Sheldon. He slapped the table. "Let's start this settlement already." He glanced at his watch. "Do you have an offer prepared?" said Donnie. "Or should we hash it out?" Sheldon went into his briefcase and took out an envelope, which he gave to Donnie, who immediately opened it. Inside had a slip of paper that had a number on it, with many, many, many zeroes. "Okay, now," said Donnie, "make me your actual offer." "Too high?" said Sheldon. "Then consider my client's once beautiful face and the emotional distress he has suffered. He now looks like Quasimodo." "Quasimodo or not," said Donnie, "you'll have to knock off a couple zeroes." "Could we have a second?" said Sheldon, putting up his finger. "Sure," said Donnie. "Go ahead. Take all the time you need." So, Sheldon turned away with Bernard, and the two got into a mini huddle. They whispered back and forth, thinking what they should do. Then after about a minute they turned their attention back to Donnie. "Okay," said Sheldon, "we've decided. We will accept 1% below our original offer." "That's only 99%," said Donnie. "Don't knock 1%," said Sheldon. "It's more than you think. You save that 1%, take it to the dollar store, and spend it on whatever you want." Donnie narrowed his eyes. "Why are you even here?" he said. "I don't understand that. Why are lawyers required for negotiation? Isn't two people enough?" "I do plenty," said Sheldon. "We lawyers do far more work than you think. This situation here for example: I can guarantee my client that I will get him 50% than he would normally get, if he had come alone. And all I ask for is a measly fee of 33%." "That doesn't make any sense," said Donnie. "How so?" "Well, with or without you, Bernard gets the same amount of money." "Not true." "If he would normally get $1,000 --"

"Ha." "For the sake of simplicity." "Alright." "If he would normally get $1,000, then you get him 50% more, then that's $1,500. But with your 33% fee he's left with $1,000. What's the difference? Why does he need you?" "Excuse me. $1,005 to be exact. So, in the end he gets more, does he not?" "Technically." "Technically shmechnically." "Right. Let's get this thing over with." Donnie took out his check book and wrote a check (the last check in his checkbook). He put it face down on the table and awaited a response. Sheldon flipped it over and looked at it. Bernard glanced at it as well. The two then huddled once again, discussing the details in private. After a minute they turned back to Donnie. "It's not as high as we had wanted," said Sheldon. "But we reluctantly accept." Sheldon got up to shake Donnie's hand, as did Bernard. "Welp, I guess that about concludes our transaction," said Donnie. "Is there anything else you guys have to say? Hm?" "Actually, " said Bernard, "I have a something for you -- a present." Bernard reached into his satchel and took out a postcard for Donnie. Donnie looked at the back, which was blank, and then the front. He stood there frozen, staring at the picture of the bear on its patch of grass. "You okay?" said Bernard. Donnie shook his head ever so slightly, but not in a manner that said "no." "Uh, where'd you get this postcard from?" said Donnie. "Oh," said Bernard, "I got that while I was on a vacation-slash-business trip in Hollyweird. That's where your girlfriend's staying, isn't she?" "Yes," said Donnie. "It's a very nice place," said Bernard. "Maybe you should visit." Chapter 50: Visiting Rights Donnie paced up and down in his mansion, surrounded by baggage. "What should I do, what should I do?" Doubtful Donnie thought aloud. "Is it even worth my time? What if I go there and she doesn't wanna see me? What if something bad happens? What if I see her with someone else?" He walked heavier and heavier, frustrated at the idea of flying thousands of miles only for nothing. "What if she's dead?" He shook his head. "No, goddamnit. Don't think about stuff like that." He hit his fist into his palm. "But what good could possibly come out of this?" "Ah, just go already," said John. John, carrying a tray, had stopped to see what the matter was. "How long've you been standing there?" said Donnie. "Long enough," said John. "So, what's your opinion on this matter?" said Donnie. "You always seem to have an opinion." "I think you should follow your heart."

"That's probably not a good idea." "And why not?" "When you follow your heart you do stupid things, like, uh, buy lottery tickets." "If that's how you feel --" John put down his tray and grabbed one of Donnie's suitcases. "Wait," said Donnie. "Where you going with that?" "Putting it away," said John, "as you're not going anywhere it seems." "I haven't decided yet. I'm thinking." "Think quicker." "Don't rush me. I need time." "Your plane is going to leave soon." "I know. I know that!" Donnie, panic stricken, again began his frenzied pacing. Doing this he knocked down a suitcase. "Forget it!" Donnie declared. "I'm not going. Why should I? Why should I put myself out like that? She doesn't even have any respect for me. All she cares about is her stupid career, and every single man on this planet, except me. What's the point? Huh?" "Not that I'm saying her habits are admirable," said John, "but you have to understand who she is. Her parents split up when she was young. She had to live with her mother, and she seldom got to see her father. That's why she always craves the attention of men. She's filling some type of void. You can't villainize her for that. It's not her fault. And I know that's vastly different from how you were raised, but can't you see why she does what she does? She's still in pain." Donnie, in spite of everything, had sympathy when he heard this. "I agree with you," he said. "But I still can't stomach her past. It makes feel like -less of a man." "No matter what anyone says," said John, "you'll always be a man. Now, what type of man you are that's up to you." "Still," said Donnie. "Still nothing," said John. "Master Donnie, Ms. Kate is with you for a very good reason. Can't you appreciate that? Contrary to what you've learned throughout life, when it comes to relationships, being the last means you're the first. Because it means you are better than everyone else that came before you. She left all the others behind to be with just you. If someone from her past was actually better than you, she'd go running back, and forget you ever existed. It's human nature. That's what people do. They try to get the best deal, and right now you are the best deal." "Well, we're on a break, so I don't know if what you're telling me counts for anything -- and why the hell do you care so much, John.?" "Maybe I'm a little annoyed." Donnie folded his arms. "What do you mean by that?" he said. "When I was growing up," said John. "I --" "Is this gonna be a long story?" Donnie interrupted. "LISTEN," said John. "When I was growing up I had no one. But here you are, you have someone that cares about you so much, and you are willing to give that up, just because you feel a bit uncomfortable. I want you to know something, Donnie. People

aren't disposable. You can't replace them or put them away into a corner until you feel like you're ready to come around. Have some appreciation. Appreciate those who care enough to give you a smile, or a hug when you're feeling bad, because one day they might not be there. It doesn't matter what you think about yourself, or how you were raised. You were never alone. You had people, even if it wasn't traditional. Don't take these things for granted. Who knows what might happen tomorrow or the day after that?" "But Kate, she..." "...is not as bad as you think, and I know that you love her, because you have those moments, those perfect moments when you look into each other's eyes, and it's like no one else is around. The world has paused just for you, and everything is right in that moment, and you have no worries about anything else, because the both of you are together. I would kill to have something half as good as that." Donnie looked at John with a quivering lip. "No," he said. "I'm not going. It'll be a waste of time. We'll wind up in the same place we are now. Nothing is gonna change." "And exactly what type of change are you looking for?" said John. "If I told you you'd say I'm stupid," said Donnie. "I promise I won't." "Okay. Fine. I'll tell you." "Go on. What is it?" Donnie paused and took in a deep breath. Then he exhaled. "I want Kate," he said, "to treat me better." "That's it?" said John. "You thought I'd call you stupid because of that?" "But I want her to do it in a certain way." "Meaning?" "Here comes the stupid part." "Yes?" "It's hard to explain." "I'm a patient man." "Okay, can you do me a favor?" "Sure." "Can you pretend to be Kate? It would be easier to explain it then." "Alright. I'm Kate. Talk to me." "Kate..." "Yes, my sweet dear." "John, be serious would you?" "Sorry." "Kate." "Yes?" "Kate, we've had our ups and downs. A lot of downs in particular. But I think that we can fix this relationship. If you started treating me differently -- better, we could give it a fighting chance. NOW, I'm not making any accusations, and I'm not trying to villainize you, it's just that I don't feel like I'm getting the treatment I deserve." "And how should I treat you?" "You know how you wished your parents were still together?" "Uh-huh?"

"Imagine for a second that were true, that they were really still together. Imagine your ideal relationship for them, the relationship that you would want them to have. They're madly in love, aren't they? See how they only have eyes for each other, how they care for each other, how they smile at each other, and how no one else, except for you, matters? That's what I want...but with us." John wrung his hands together. "Why are you doing that?" said Donnie. "You think it's dumb don't you?" "What I think doesn't matter," said John. "What matters is what Kate thinks." "And what will she think about it?" said Donnie. "If you want to find out you have to go and see her." "I already told you, I'm not going to do that. It's pointless." "It's not pointless." "It is and you know it. So stop encouraging me. I don't know why you keep trying to push me to see her. Do you know something I don't?" "Yes. I know that you should leave, and get on that airplane before it goes up into the sky, into those white puffy clouds, and disappears." "I already told you. No." "Are you absolutely sure about that?" "You heard my answer." "Then this calls for drastic measures." "Like what?" John picked up his serving tray and started smacking Donnie on the shoulder. "Just go, damn it! GO! GO! GO! I'm sick of you moping around here and being all depressed! Go and catch your plane and be with the woman you love! For the love of God, myself, all that is good! Go!" "Alright, alright!" Donnie yelled, while turning his body to defend himself. "I'm going!" Chapter 51: Walk of Fame Zzzzz-zzzzz-zzzzz...? A hand shook Donnie's shoulder. "Hey, bro, you awake?" "Wha's that?" said Donnie, rubbing his eyes. "We're here," the cab driver named Tyler whispered. "Where?" said Donnie. "Look outside," said Tyler. "You might recognize it by its big white letters." Tyler's arm, which hung out the window pointed, ahead to the hills. At this bright sight Donnie began to stir. He yawned and stretched. "It's much bigger than I imagined," said Donnie. "Bro, it's always bigger than everyone imagines," said Tyler. "I've only seen it in movies," said Donnie. "You want me to drive you up for a visit?" "No thanks, just take me to my girlfriend's house. You need me to tell you where it is again?" "Naw, bro. I have a pretty good memory. I'm Asian." "I knew that."

"Wait a minute. Aren't you that dude who's dating that girl?" "Umm, sure?" "Naw, what's her name? Katie? Kate? Kate Witman?" Donnie sighed. "My apologies," said Tyler, "I know you celebs like your privacy. I shouldn't be sticking my nose where it don't belong." "It's okay," said Donnie. "It's just that I'm... Should I be talking to you about this?" "It's your call, bro." "Well, it's a bit of a sore topic. But I'm here because I'm trying to win back...her." "Aw, she dumped you?" "No. We're on a break. That's what I'm trying to prevent." "Okay, bro. I'll tell you what you need to do -- I saw this in a movie once -- get a boombox, put in the most romantic song you know, and play it outside her bedroom window. It will literally melt her heart." "Literally?" "Oh and don't forget to hold it above your head for dramatic effect." "That's sounds so cheesy." "Look, it's that or you serenade her with a guitar. You got a guitar?" "No." "But if you had a guitar could you play?" "I have no musical abilities whatsoever." "Aw, that's a shame. Girls love guitars. Dating at least one guy with a guitar is like a requirement for every straight woman on this planet. You really should get a guitar and take some lessons. Trust, it'll add a new dimension to your life." "I'll keep that in mind." "So yeah! Back to what I was saying. Get a boombox, go to her window, and play a romantic song. She will swoon." "But I don't have a boombox or even a cassette tape." "Oh yeah? Some fool stiffed me the other day and accidentally left behind his boombox. How about I give it to you, huh?" "You'd do that for me?" "Anything for romance." Tyler pulled around the corner, where he stopped his taxicab in front of a driveway lined with palm trees. Donnie opened the door on his side, and put out a foot. "Good luck," said Tyler. "You should find the boombox in the back with your things. I'm in a bit of a rush, so you'll have to unpack yourself." He popped open the trunk. "Thank you," said Donnie. Then he paid Tyler, with tip, and retrieved his possessions from the trunk of the taxicab. He took all his things, luggage on wheels, and boombox, and went to the house standing before him on West End Avenue. As he heard the screech of wheels he took notice of the two story home. It had a marble white face, big jaunty windows, and orange ceramic roof tiles. There was also a three car garage. Donnie continued up the walkway and placed his possessions, except for the boombox, by front of the door. He took that particular item under his arm and carried it

around to the backyard, the backyard which was unkempt and had waist-high grass. He looked at the windows on the second floor, searching for where Kate might be. When he spotted something that had the appearance of a lady he picked up a pebble and chucked it at the window. "KATE!" said Donnie. "Are you in there?" The window sprang open. Donnie put his boombox over his head and let the tape within play. Thankfully a popular love song came out -- but only as well as the middleaged, plump, woman of minority status, who stuck her head outside to yell. This was the housekeeper, evident by her dowdy clothing. "Aye!" she said. "Go away or I call the cops!" She threw a bag of bread. Donnie dropped his boombox. "Ow, did you just throw a bag of bread at me?" he said. "You no wanted here," said Kyra. "Also is stale bread." "Are you the housekeeper?" said Donnie. He picked up the stale bread, and, out of annoyance, blindly threw it back into the air. "Look, I know you don't understand English properly, so I'll forgive the misunderstanding, and the assault, however --" "I say go away!" said Kyra. She had procured another stale bag of bread in her hands. "I told you, Miss Kate Witman don't want anyone to bother her!" "Listen," said Donnie. "I'm not just anyone, I'm her boyfriend, and I need to see her. Is she in there?" "First thing first: Kate has no boyfriend. She say to me she is single." "Come again?" "She is single. Free like bird." "Is this a joke?" "Is no joke." Donnie became annoyed. "Well, fine," he said. "Then I'm her ex-boyfriend. Okay?" "Miss Kate has many ex-boyfriend," said Kyra. "She is not a Christian." "I'm the most recent ex-boyfriend," said Donnie. "How I know you not lying?" "Do you read the tabloids?" "Sometimes when I'm making toilet." "Then you should recognize me. Look at my face. Can't you see? I'm Donald Underwood." "How I know that?" "Gimme a second." Donnie took out his driver's license (his newer one) and threw it to Kyra. Kyra somehow managed to catch it. She put on her reading glasses and looked it over. "Okay, Mr. Donald Underwood," she said slowly. "I tell you where your girlfriend is. This is her house, where is she saying, but she is not here." "Right, so where is she?" said Donnie. "Making a movie," said Kyra. "Since when?" "I'm not a psychic." "Alright. But where is this movie being made? Which studio?" "The one that makes the good movies."

"You'll have to be more specific." "The one that made all those movies with that man that have the annoying laugh." "Eddie Murphy?" "Yes." "That doesn't help me." "Aye, the company picture is of a big hill with many stars. You know it?" "Actually, I think I do." After getting his driver's license back, Donnie left the backyard, and ran off, returning to the front of the house. But upon arriving there he discovered all of his luggage missing. Or to be more precise: stolen. He kicked his feet in frustration. "Goddamn it," he said. "What the hell do I do now?" He rang the doorbell, and at that exact moment Kyra came out, dressed in a jacket, looking about ready to leave. "Excuse me," said Donnie, trying to keep calm. "Did you take my luggage inside?" "Luggage? No luggage," said Kyra. "I's talking to you the whole time." "Okay, well," said Donnie, "my things have been stolen. Could I please go into the house and make a phone call?" "Eh, sorry," said Kyra. "I have to go now." "Wait," said Donnie. Kyra locked the door behind her and jumped into a car that had suddenly appeared to pick her up. Now, Donnie was left alone, without luggage, and without any place to go. Having only followed his heart, he was ill prepared for this type of situation, and had nothing to rely but himself. He sat on the curbside awaiting Kate's return. Every minute felt like an hour. But finally relief arrived -- in the form of a homeless person. The homeless man was surprisingly well dressed, maybe owing to the fact that he was just a down on his luck war veteran. He had to be no older than forty. "Yo, Joe!" said Gabe. "Whatchu doin' on the curbside?" "Are you talking to me?" said Donnie. "Yes, I am," said Gabe. "Um, alright then." "Hey, relax. I'm here to help you." "For what?" "Your homelessness o' course." "I'm not homeless." "Ah, yes, denial. Mmm, that's why the first few days is always the toughest 'cause you be saying things like, 'I'm not homeless. Am just going through some rough times. It'll work itself out.' BULLSHIT! Lemme help you. I'll show you how to make a good sign for begging. The key is using cardboard." "Thanks for your help, but I told you, I'm not homeless. I'm just...stupid." "Okay. You locked yourself out then, huh?" "Actually, this is my girlfriend's place. I'm waiting for her. It's supposed to be a surprise." "She a real pretty one?" "Yeah." "And you walked all the way here?"

"I flew in." "Y'arms must be tired." "Really now." "Only a joke." "Yeah, I'm laughing on the inside." "Hm, you got a car?" "No, I didn't prepare." "I can help you with that." "Really. I'm fine. I don't --" "Tut-tut-tut! I may have no home, but I'm no bum." As Gabe made his way toward Kate's house, Donnie stood up to watch. Gabe who positioned himself in front of the garage's side door, and took a few steps back -- then charged ahead with a flying front kick. He successfully got inside of the garage. Meanwhile Donnie thought whether this was a robbery or some type of mental patient gone loose. Still he continued to watch until Gabe come out with a rusty lime green bicycle. "Couldn't find no car to hot wire," said Gabe. "But I found this nice looking bicycle. You can use it to get around maybe or relieve yourself of some boredom." "W-what's that doing here?" said Donnie. "I just stole it," said Gabe. "No, I mean, that's my old bicycle from my home," said Donnie. "I live all the way on the east coast. It shouldn't be here." "Wow. From the east coast? That far, huh? Well-sir, Happy returns then! It's traveled a long way." "That's so weird. Why would Kate take it along with her?" Donnie inspected his bicycle. "At least the tires are pumped," he said. "I guess I could ride it to the studio, where Kate's working. How long do you suppose it would take to get there? I haven't ridden a bicycle in years, but you know what they say." When Donnie heard no reply he brought up his eyes and noticed Gabe was no longer there. "Where the hell'd that guy go?" Donnie wondered, only to shrug it off. "Ah, doesn't matter. He probably broke into another garage or something." Now Donnie got onto his bicycle and rode off -- as there was no public transportation to speak of -- and headed for White Mountain Studios. Along the way he purchased a star map to help with directions. About two hours or so later, after being lost, and sweaty and exhausted, Donnie came to his destination. He pulled up to the guard station (a little box where security stays put) and greeted the security guard, who was reading a book on screenplays: "How to Write a Blockbuster Movie in 30 Days or Less." Donnie knocked on the glass, though he felt a bit nervous as the the large archway, with its tall wrought iron gates, imposed over the studio. There was also the huge, logo marked, water tower that cast a shadow to anyone below. The security guard named Otis put his book down and glared at Donnie. "Can I help you?" he said.

"I'm here to see someone," said Donnie. "Who?" said Otis. "Oh, right," said Donnie. "Kate Witman." "And you are?" "Donnie Underwood." Otis looked at a clipboard he had in front of him. "Not on the list," he said. "But I'm her boyfriend," said Donnie. "Can you check it again?" "Everyone is her boyfriend," groaned Otis. "Or girlfriend." "What? C'mon. I have to see her. Just let me see her." "You really want to see her?" "Yeah." "Buy a ticket for a tour, and maybe you'll see her walking around." "Fine. Gimme a ticket." "You need to go around to the other side and go through the visitor's entrance." "For the love of -- I don't have time for this! Let me in!" "Now see here, Pee Wee Herman. If you don't leave I'm gonna hafta call security." "You're security." "Additional security." "Oh... Okay." "You have a good day, sir." Otis went back to his book... ...While Donnie went to the other side of White Mountain Studios, where he found the visitor's area and a place to park his bicycle. He went inside and got in line, as anyone else would, and purchased an overpriced ticket for a two hour tour. He sat at the back of the tram, with eleven other people, and the tour guide, who'd verbally point out every site. "Look at this, look here, and see that," she said. "That's where they did all that stuff that you saw in those movies you love." Donnie yawned and folded his arms. He wasn't sure at what time to make his getaway to see Kate. But meanwhile he stared at the back of two young heads. There was a teenaged boy and a teenaged girl. The two of them appeared to be having a bit of a quarrel. They were exchanging words through their teeth. Donnie decided to eavesdrop on them, ignoring the tour guide's voice as she pointed out Debbie Reynolds' famous piano. Lora, the 17 year old teenager, glared at her boyfriend named Jeff. "I don't know what you mean by that," said Lora. "I'm just saying," said Jeff. "It's kind of a lot." "I'm not as bad as the other girls," said Lora. "You have over 200 troll dolls. You don't think that's excessive?" "They're going to be collector's items one day." "It's a fad." "Is not a fad!" Lora punched Jeff in the shoulder. "Stop hitting me," said Jeff. "It doesn't help you win arguments."

"But it makes me feel better," said Lora. "Can't you feel better in another way?" said Jeff. "Maybe we could have sex. It's good for getting the aggression out, I hear." "I dunno. Don't you think we're a bit too young to be popping our 'cherries?'" "Too late." "What! You mean --" "Yup." "Ooooh, my god." "Get with the times, grandpa. Everyone's doing it. I knew a guy who lost it at twelve year's old with his babysitter." "He's lying." "Nuh-uh." "And how do you know that?" "Because I was his babysitter." "What! Stop joking around!" "Who says I'm joking around? After all, humans are sexual beings, aren't they?" "Wait. Exactly how many boys have you slept with?" "I dunno. Counting everything? Um. Four." "FOUR?! FOUR?! That's almost half of ten! Ten which is a decade!" "Relax. That's only one per year, starting from when I was thirteen. That's not too bad. Jeff felt himself dry heaving. Lora whipped him on the back. "Calm down," said Lora. "I didn't do it all in a week." "I'm so disgusted," said Jeff. "Why?" said Lora. "Why be disgusted? Don't you know all the cells in your body are replaced after a month? So every month, scientifically, you're a virgin again." "I don't care what Mr. Hymus told you. It is gross." "Sex is not gross." "Yeah? Who says? Have you ever seen your grandfather banging away at your grandmother. Are you gonna tell me that's not gross?" "Fine. ME having sex is not gross." "I disagree." "Jeff, what is your problem with me having sex?" "Well, are we gonna have sex later on in our relationship?" "Maybe." "Then ew!" "What's so 'ew' about it? Because I've slept with a couple of guys before you?" "Yes. It's like using a public restroom. Sure, nothing will probably happen to you if you sit down on that toilet, but knowing about all those anuses and wieners that have been there just makes you shiver." Lora punched Jeff in the shoulder (again). "I told you to knock that off," said Jeff. "If you do it one more time --" "I don't appreciate you comparing my body to a toilet," said Lora. "Okay? Start treating me better. You could take a lesson from Andy. Last week he treated me to ice cream and he was totally cool with my past. In fact, he said I shagged like a minx. Don't know what that is, but yeah."

"Wait, you're hanging out with Andy?" said Jeff. "Isn't that your ex-boyfriend?" "Yes. Why do you ask?" "Lora... I barely like your male friends as it is, and now I come to find one of them is your ex-boyfriend. How is that supposed to make me feel? Plus, what did you even see in Andy? He's a pimply faced ginger boy." "On the contrary. Andy was quite attractive when I met him. He had aspirations to become president." "And that turned you on?" "You know what they say, power is an aphrodisiac." "I really don't understand that." "You might not see it, but there are many perks to dating the high school president." "Whatever the case, Lora, I don't want you seeing Andy anymore." "Why, you're not comfortable with me being friends with my ex-boyfriend? Are you insecure?" "Yes." "Then that's gonna be a problem. All my ex-boyfriends are my friends. Good, dear, kind friends." "Are you serious?" "100%." "I don't get it. Why do you need to be friends with your ex-boyfriends? You got me. Am I not enough man for you?" "You're 16. You barely have pubic hairs. And, anyways, I'm not gonna let you tell me what to do. I'm an independent woman. I will not be oppressed by any man." Lora punched Jeff in the shoulder. "Stop hitting me," said Jeff. "And don't you even care about how I feel? This hurts, you know. I thought, well, I thought I was enough to satisfy your womanly needs." "Who cares about how you feel?" said Lora. "You're a man. Men don't have feelings. They're big, dumb, sex-crazed creatures." "I agree," said Jeff, "but don't you think that --" "Quiet!" said Lora, temperamentally. "I've had enough of your yapping! You're like a dog that can't shut up. Bark, bark, bark. Come to think of it you're not 'like a dog.' You are a dog. You're a lap dog! A dog that sits in laps! Lick my face like the dog you are, Jeffrey!" "Um, are PMSing?" "JEFFREY! I said lick my face or we're breaking up!" "Don't threaten me like that. I'm not licking your face in public. What kind of sick person wants their face licked in public?" "I'm serious! I'll dump you right here, if you don't lick my face, Mr. Poodle!" "Alright, fine!" Jeff leaned over to Lora and reluctantly licked her cheek. Lora patted Jeff on the head. "Good doggy." "Hoo," Donnie said to himself. "Glad I'm not him -- what a pushover!" "And here we have, to your left," Billy the tour guide interrupted, "the original set of Forest Hump, the famous academy award nominated motion picture. True fact: No

actual running was done here, that was purely done by animatronics, and a combination of computer animation. Now, if you'd look to the right of you --" As the tram took another turn two creatures appeared on either side of Donnie's shoulders, classically, an angel and a demon. But the angel looked tired, not in the mood to be talking to anyone. "Now it's time to make your escape," said the Devil to Donnie. "I have an idea for you." "Gasp," went Donnie. "Are you an imp?" The demon poked Donnie in the face with his pitch fork. "Demon," said the demon. "Whatever you do," said the angel, "don't listen to him. He will only lead you down a road of evil." "Yes, but you'd be better for it," said the demon. "My way is much better. It always is." "Okay," said Donnie to the angel, "and what do you have to offer?" "Humility, humbleness, piety, and mourning, " replied the angel. "Along with guilt, suffering, but the grace of God, should you worship Him." "That sounds pretty sucky," said Donnie. "Fine," said the angel. "Do as you please." "That's all you have to say?" said Donnie. "I rarely win these arguments," said the angel. "Okay," said Donnie to the demon, "so what must I do now?" "See those two bratty teenagers ahead of us?" said the demon. "Punch the boy in the shoulder. It'll cause a ruckus and then you can escape this stupid tram to meet your lady friend." "I dunno," said Donnie. "DO IT!" said the demon. Donnie rubbed his eyes. When the angel and demon went away, he looked at the teenaged couple, and waited for the right moment to make his move. When the tram wheeled itself onto a bridge Donnie punched Jeff in the shoulder. Jeff turned his head in Lora's direction. "What did you do that for?" he said. "What did I tell you about punching me?" "I did not punch you in the arm!" Lora said loudly. "Don't lie!" said Jeff in return. "Who else did it? That guy behind us?" "Maybe!" "And why would he do that?! Hmm?! Tell me!" "KEEP YOUR VOICE DOWN! YOU'RE RUINING THE TOUR FOR EVERYONE!" "YOU KEEP YOUR VOICE DOWN!" "NO, YOU!" "AGH!" "EEEAGH!" Jeff and Lora (figuratively) exploded. Their quarreling became so loud that Billy the tour guide could no longer speak, and no one on the tour could anymore ignore them. As everyone looked behind themselves to stare incredulously, Donnie ducked down, and came off the tram unnoticed.

As he ran away he could hear the argument still going on, and others trying to no avail to calm down Jeff and Lora. "Now, now," they said, fruitlessly, "calm down. There's no reason to be upset." Meanwhile, Donnie continued going opposite of the tram. Now he found himself wandering the backlots of White Mountain Studios, searching for Kate. He walked carefully trying to avoid attention; however, that did not last long when he bumped into Gabe the security guard. Gabe stepped in Donnie's way. "Hey, you," said Gabe. "Don't I know you from somewhere?" "Uuuuuh," Donnie went. "Yah, I recognize you!" said Gabe. Donnie started to sweat. "You're from that TV show," said Gabe. "'Saved by the Ball.' Oooh, I loved the shit outta that show. It was in-fucking-credible." "Thank you," said Donnie. "But are you a lady killer in real life?" said Gabe. "Yah, of course. You must get loads of pussy, am I right?" "Erm, yes," said Donnie. "Plenty of pussy. Pussy be falling out of my pockets." "Hey, I don't mean to bother you, but can I get your autograph?" "Do you have a pen or marker?" "Indeed I do. I always carry one in my pocket protector." Gabe took a pen out from his front pocket, and a notepad for signing. He gave the two items to Donnie, who appeared quite nervous. Donnie quickly signed a lined sheet of paper and started walking off right away. "There you go!" he was heard saying. "Keep watching 'Saved by the Ball'!" Gabe looked at his autograph. "Wait a minute," he said loudly. "Who the hell is Barnabas Fink?" "Welp!" said Donnie. "So long!" Then he started running post-haste in the opposite direction of the security guard. Gabe of course gave chase, and the two ran through the movie studio's giant backlot of several hundred thousand square feet. They went anywhere they could, sprinting through a town of the wild-wild west, a disaster zone, a field with crop circles, and even the planet Mars. The pair ended up in a (fake) tropical jungle. Here Donnie took cover, and hid behind a foam rock, whilst Gabe stumbled about, trying to avoid tripping on a plastic root. After catching his breath he took out his flashlight, and shined it around, hoping to find his fugitive under the shadow of a tree. Donnie controlled his breathing, using shallow breaths. He got on his hands and knees, and crawled through the bushes. He kept on going until his nose hit a large object. He tilted up his head and gasped upon seeing a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Obviously not a real one, just an animatronic monster used for filming. "Christ," said Donnie. "You almost gave me a heart attack." The T-Rex rudely did not respond. "COME OUT OF HIDING, YOU COWARD!" yelled Gabe. "I'll find you yet!" The beam of light from Gabe's flashlight pointed on Donnie's hand. Whether the security guard knew he had found his culprit was left in the air, but Donnie still felt he had to act fast in order to save his own hide.

"Better think of something," Donnie said to himself. "Can't keep running. I have to..." Suddenly Gabe jumped out and pointed with his finger, "Ah-ha! Caught you!" But then he scratched his head when he saw, in fact, no one was around. "I swore he was here a second ago. Maybe he climbed up a tree?" He scratched his chin upon seing that that was not the case. "Ah, who cares." He shrugged his shoulders. "What's the worst he could do? Find one of the actresses and murder her?" He kept on walking. "I better keep looking." When Gabe was out of sight Donnie crawled out of the mouth of the animatronic T-Rex, and dropped to the ground. Thud. "Finally," said Donnie. "That a-hole's gone. Now, all I have to do is find Kate, and fix our relationship. That shouldn't be too hard. If movies have taught me anything it's that all I need to do to get her back is make her remember why she fell in love with me in the first place. If I can figure that out everything will be just perfect. Now, how do I get out of here?" Donnie went round and round, lost, until then he noticed some footsteps upon the ground. He followed them to the edge of the jungle and found his exit. His luck was better than he had thought, as he was right at the spot where Kate was making her movie called: "Hearts of the Ocean." Unlike her other movies, which were mostly independent, this was a big budget production. There were lights, cameras, crew, a crane, dozens of extras, and tables full of food. Kate was stood on the bow of a partially constructed boat, in foot high water, being held from behind by the famous actor Stanley Stuart. She was also being directed by the bearded Jim Krowe, who was not at all pleased with her performance. "Cut!" he yelled. He went up the actors, who froze in his presence. "What was that? Really? What the fuck was that? You were as stiff as a goddamn board." "I'm, I'm nervous," said Kate. "About what?" said Jim, putting his hands on his hips. "I've never been in a movie like this before," said Kate. "I'm, I'm, I'm finding it a bit difficult." "I'm, I'm, I'm finding it a bit difficult," Jim said, imitating Kate. "WHAT THE FUCK is so difficult about it? All you have to do is remember your lines, say them, and then look pretty. How can that be difficult?" "I don't know," said Kate. "Think about that for a minute," said Jim. "You, a human being, are having a difficult time acting. Do you know how stupid that sounds? A bloody chimpanzee can act! Are you telling me that you can't do what an ape can do?! You know when Hitchcock said actors should be treated like cattle I didn't think he was being literal. But lo and behold the great Kate Witman can't act worth a damn. You know why that is?" "Why?" said Kate. Stanley Stuart shook his head. "Because you're just a pretty face!" Jim Krowe yelled. "That's all you are! That's the difference between you and a chimp, your pretty face. If I could hire a chimp who looked just like you, you'd lose all your fucking bananas. So quit complaining that your job is hard, you ungrateful prima donna. You have it so damn good here. Now get your

shit together and act good enough for an audience that's not made up of your family and friends. Got that?" Kate's eyes began to water. Stanley Stuart saw this and whispered into her ear. "Don't worry about him," Stanley whispered. "He's like that to everyone. He's just pissed because he thinks actors and actresses get more credit than they deserve. But what's a movie with out us? Still, try not to screw this up, huh? Either one of us can be replaced. It'll probably be you." Kate nodded at Jim Krowe. "Alright," she said, "can we try this again? I promise I won't screw up this time." "Don't tell me what to do," said Jim Krowe. "I'm the director. I'll tell us when we're ready. Alright, toots?" "Toots?" said Kate. As she gave thought to that nickname, unsure of its meaning, Jim Krowe's assistant arrived on set with some coffee. He handed one to Jim Krowe. Jim Krowe took the hot, black liquid, and downed it in two gulps. "Now," said Jim Krowe. "I want... I want... I want..." "You want what?" said Stanley Jim Krowe clutched his stomach, feeling a rumble within. "Mr. Krowe?" said Stanley. Jim Krowe took to his heels and ran off. He gave no warning and failed to mention when he'd be back. He just up and left. Though his assistant had a grin, as if he knew what was going on. "What was that all about?" said Stanley. "I don't know?" said Kate. "What should we do?" "Ask the assistant director," said Stanley. "Excuse me, Mr. McCormick," Kate said to the older man holding the clipboard. "Do you think we could possibly take a break?" "Sorry," said Mr. McCormick. "If you move out of position and Jim returns we're all in trouble. Though you can put your arms down, if you want... Actually, nix that. Keep them there. It's better to play it safe." After saying this, Mr. McCormick thought that he should leave. But when he did he took along the crew and everyone else, except for Kate and Stanley. As the two remained in their spot, for fear of rebuke, Donnie now made his appearance. He stepped in front of the boat, into the water, to say a merry hello. "Kate," he said. "Kate!" "Who's that?" Stanley whispered. "Uuhm, nobody," Kate replied. Kate waved her arms, motioning for Donnie to go away. "You aren't allowed here," she said. "You have to leave." "But I came here all the way to see you," said Donnie. "Can't I just have a minute?" "I'm busy," said Kate. "Go home." "Home?" said Donnie. "That's thousands of miles away." "Then go back to your hotel," said Kate. "I don't have a hotel to go back to." "Then find one."

"But --" "Donnie! We're on a break, remember? We're not supposed to see each other." "I know --" "You need to get going before the director returns!" "So, you're just going to ignore me like that, huh?" "I'm not ignoring you. We're on a break. This is what we've agreed to." "How about I come back later and we go for drinks or something?" "No drinks. I'm hanging out with Stanley afterward." "Oh, uh, where're you two going?" "That's none of your business." Stanley interrupted. "Actually," he said, "I can't hang out with you anymore." "What, why not?" said Kate. "I thought we were going to discuss my acting. You said you were gonna gimme pointers." "Something came up," said Stanley. "What came up?" said Kate. "I never mentioned this before, but I met someone a while ago. She's back in town, so we're going on a date." "Oh, okay. Then I guess we can reschedule?" "Probably not. It's getting pretty serious. She might not like me hanging out with other women. I don't want to ruin this." "But I thought you were a 'lady's man.' Does it really matter what she thinks?" "This one is different. I care about her." "Fine then. Let's just forget about it." "Are you getting annoyed with me?" "No. I said I'm fine. No big loss." "If you say so." Donnie stamped his feet in the water. "Kate!" he said. "I'm talking to you!" Kate glanced his way. "Donnie," she said. "I appreciate you coming. But you really have to go." "I'm not going," said Donnie. "I'm --" "JUST GO!" said Kate, pointing away. "You're not wanted here!" Chapter 52: Walk of Shame The diner had so few customers, this late at night, that each booth held only one person. "What can I get for you?" said the waitress named Kristen. She took a pencil out from behind her ear. "A coffee," said Donnie. "How do you take it?" said Kristen. "What's that supposed to mean?" "What do you want in your coffee?" "Oh. Um. Double-double?" "What's that?" "Two creams, two sugars."

"And anything else?" "Can I smoke in here?" "No." "Then that's all I need." Kristen pivoted on her heels, about to skip off, but then noticed Donnie's extra sulky face. For some reason she felt sorry for him, though he probably didn't deserve any sympathy. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" she said, slowly, gently. "Yes, I'm doing A-okay," said Donnie. "Is that the truth?" said Kristen. "...No." "Wanna tell me about it?" "I don't want to waste your time." "I'm here all night, and the only thing being ordered is coffee it seems, so, you can talk my ears off if you want." "Mm..." "Let me guess. You came all the way out here to chase your dreams. You put your heart and soul into everything, but all you got in return was criticism, hate, and treachery. Now you're working a thankless job, serving people who don't even know that you're alive." "Actually, I'm having problems with my lady. I got a hundred problems, if you catch my drift." "Those are a lot of problems. But let's focus on the main one, okay? What is the main problem?" Donnie sighed and briefly looked up at the waitress. "Do you really even care?" said Donnie. "Or are you just trying to get a bigger tip?" "Not everyone here in this town is heartless," said Kristen. A voice groaned from one of the booths, "I'm out of coffee! Please help me!" "One second," Kristen said to Donnie. "I'll be back with your coffee too." Kristen left, and like she said, returned with Donnie's coffee. She placed it right in front of him so that the vapors would go into his nose. Donnie blew on the top and took a sip. "Wow," said Donnie. "This is the best coffee I've ever had. What's in here?" "About your problem," said Kristen. She sat down with Donnie. "Are you allowed to do this?" said Donnie. "Sit with customers?" "I shouldn't get in trouble," said Kristen. "My friend Tom owns this diner." "How nice," said Donnie. "So about your problem?" "Right. My problem. Uhm, it's nothing dramatic. We're on a break, and I came here to see her as a surprise, and now she's ignoring me." "But why?" "Apparently, I'm a whiny, insecure, delusional, judgmental, self-centered man." "She thinks you're an asshole?" "Not quite there yet."

"I see." Kristen thought for a moment. "I know," she said, snapping her fingers. "What?" said Donnie. "Jewelry," said Kristen. "Come again?" "Get her some jewelery. That'll patch everything right up." "Really?" "I'm telling you this as a woman." "You think she's that shallow, huh?" "It's not about shallowness. See, this is a thing men don't understand. You spend money on a lady and you think 'Gee. Now I got less money' while a woman thinks 'He cares enough about me to spend his paycheck on me. He thinks I'm worth it.' See, they're not thinking about the object itself. They're thinking about the sentiment behind it, the sacrifice." "I don't get that logic." "Do you want your girl back or not?" "Of course. More than anything in the world." "Then do as I say." Donnie drank the last of his coffee. The roaring sun rolled over the horizon and appeared in the sky. Donnie skulked around West End Avenue, across from Kate's Tinseltown home, awaiting her return. She could not return sooner, he thought, as his feet ached and eyes were as bloodshot as ever. He had not slept in over 24 hours. He was subsisting on black coffee and the occasional cigarette. "Kate, where the hell are you?" he thought. He rubbed his eyes, trying not to fall asleep. But when removed his hands he suddenly perked up, noticing that something was afoot. Kate had appeared and there was someone accompanying her. They both stood on the driveway, positioned for a conversation. Donnie took cover behind a palm tree and stuck his head out, hoping he wouldn't be noticed. Kate looked again at the stranger in front of her, murmured a good morning (or something to that effect), then tried getting around him -- but he stood firmly in her path. Mitchell was dead set on being heard. Using his sausage-like finger he brushed back the greasy curl of hair hanging over his forehead. He was trying to be as serious as possible, though his comic book t-shirt and jittery body made that difficult to convey. "I know I shouldn't be bothering you like this," said Mitchell, "since you look so tired, but --" "I'm not tired," said Kate. "I'm well rested in fact. I'm simply not wearing any makeup." "Oh," said Mitchell. "I knew that... You know what? I think it's my vision. I don't have my glasses on right now, you see. I forgot them at home. I'm such a stupid idiot." "Uh-huh." "I really like your dress, Kate. It looks sooo amazing on you."

"I got this from the bargain bin in K-Mart." "And what good taste you have. You have some really good shopping skills." "Okay, I have a couple things to say: One, my dress isn't amazing. I'm sure you really just like what's underneath it. Two, I don't have good shopping skills. I buy everything overpriced. Three, who are you again?" "Mitchell. But my friend calls me Mitch." "Mitch. Mitchell. Okay. Thanks for coming to my house and finding out where I live, but I really have to go now. I have important stuff to do. So, if you wouldn't mind..." Kate stepped forward but Mitchell once again got in her way. "I have to tell you something important," Mitchell whispered. "Fine," said Kate, "one more thing." "I love you," said Mitchell. "You love me? You don't even know me. The only reason you 'love me' is because I'm famous. Alright? Don't gimme that 'I love you' stuff. Do you know how many times I've heard that before?" "But I'm the only one that truly means it. I'm your biggest fan, Kate. I've watched all your interviews. I've read everything about you. I have all your movies on VHS tape, even the ones where you only had a bit part. Of course any role with you is not actually a bit part." "Wait. You think all that qualifies you as someone who knows me?" "Unless you're lying -- and I know you're too sweet to do that -- then I think I have a good idea who you are." "Buddy, I'm an actress. I pretend to be things I'm not for a living. You need to take these things with a grain of salt." "So, every single interview I watched from your junkets is phony?" "Not entirely." "What about those kisses you blew me when you were on the red carpet? Did you mean that?" "Are you mad? You thought those were just for you?" "Y-yeah?" "You need to see a shrink, my friend." "I'm already in therapy... And, Kate, I don't like how you're being so dismissive of me. I thought we had something. I even forgave you for cheating on me. At least, it felt like cheating." "What?" "I saw those pictures and those videos of you kissing, and sucking, and touching those other men. You know how hurt I was, Kate? I cried for days. I even cut myself, but in the end I was happy that you were happy, and I forgave you. It showed my strength, and courage, and love. Doesn't that count for anything?" "Look, do you want an autograph or not?" "I don't want an autograph, Kate. I don't want a silly picture. I came here all the way from the other side of the globe to meet you. I want you to love me like I love you." "That's it, pal. I'm calling the cops." Kate hustled toward the door of her home as Donnie kept a watch. Mitchell ran in front and blocked her from going inside.

"Please," said Mitchell. "I'm not trying to harm you. I only want you to know what you mean to me. And if you know what you mean to me, then maybe I'll mean something to you." Mitchell got down on his knees and looked up at Kate, who had a deserved drop of sweat rolling down her forehead. "Kate," said Mitchell. "You are the most beautiful woman in the world. You're handsome, and sweet, and funny, and so adorable. You're smart. You're kind. You're generous. I grin every time I think about you. I dream about you every night. Kate, you're the reason I'm alive. You give me a reason to live. Before I knew about you, I was depressed, and I wanted to jump off a building. But your angelic face rescued me. And despite all our ups and downs, at the end of the day you somehow always manage to make me smile. I can't live without you. Won't you give me a chance, Kate, honey? Let's go out on one measly date. I'll show you how perfect we are for each other." Kate was silent for a moment, but then she yelled, "Are you nuts?! Why would I ever want to date you? You are possibly the most repugnant person I have ever met. You're fat, bald, you have terrible skin, and you smell something like sour milk. I'd rather jump off a cliff than go on a date with you." She took a breath. "Now get out of my way. I need to go inside." But before she could wrap her hand around the handle of the doorknob to her house, Mitchell had seized her by the wrist. He pulled her in and kissed her on the lips more than once. Kate pushed him off and gave him a back hand to his face. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she said. Mitchell held his reddened cheek. He looked down, avoiding eye contact. "You're an awful woman," he said. "You pretend you're lonely and you can't get a date to save your life, to make us feel sorry for you, then when you get a good offer you turn it down." His words were slow and drawn out. "How you fooled us, Kate. How you made us believe you were something that you are not. How you made all us desperate, lonely, vulnerable people fall for you just for your own benefit. But now you hurt us, you treat us like we're nothing, like we're ants. Not worth a scrap of your attention." "A lot of people like me," Kate said firmly, "but I can't give everyone a piece of my time. Y'know, I have a life outside the movie business... And don't act like I owe you anything either, like you own a piece of me. You see my movies out of your own selfinterest to entertain yourself. I do my best job to amuse you for two hours, and that's all I'm responsible for. Anything else is your own business. If you fall in love with me that's your fault, not mine. I never told you what to do. I mean honestly, what did you expect coming up to me like this? How did you expect me to react to you, to treat you? I don't care how much you think you know me, you're a complete stranger, and at that a stranger who I know only cares for my looks and fame. Oh, I know how you people are. Always there for the good times, but where were you when I was a nobody? Hm?" "Mm, I should have expected such a blase, detached attitude," said Mitchell. "Because you have no idea what it's like to be ugly, and lonely, and unwanted. You were always a pretty, popular girl. Everything comes to you in a pink ribbon bow." "How profound," said Kate. She folded her arms. "Now, if you don't mind, I think it's time you pissed off, otherwise I'll be calling the cops." She pointed to the street.

This request Mitchell could not say no. Shoulders slumped he turned around to leave. He took one step forward, very, very slowly. "Hurry up," said Kate. "I don't have all day." "Wait," said Mitchell, breathing heavy. "I have something to give you." "Whatever it is," said Kate. "I don't want it." "Ooh, but I think you'll like it," said Mitchell. Then he spun around to show his shiny eight inch knife. "What, what're you doing with that?" said Kate. She stepped back. "If you won't be with me," said Mitchell, "you won't be with anyone else either." Mitchell grabbed Kate by the collar and raised his knife into the air. Kate, frozen in fear, could do nothing but squeal. For some reason her bold, brazen attitude had vanished. "It's not fair," said Mitchell. "Love shouldn't only be for the rich and beautiful." "Please," said Kate. "I'll give you a chance. I'll go on that date with you -- I promise!" Tears were already flowing down her face. "I don't believe you," said Mitchell. "You're an actor. You lie for a living." In this instant Kate's eyes went frozen. Her life, her short life, flashed before her eyes. Every precious moment played: Her first kiss, her first crush, graduating from high school, the divorce of her parents, the times she had too much to drink, the times she cried, the times she laughed, nothing was left out. When Kate came to, realizing what was actually happening, that her life was in mortal danger, the knife began swooping down -- but somehow she had stopped it, at least for now, by catching Mitchell's wrist with a two hand grip. She cried for help while struggling, holding the blade just above her head, but the only people around that she could see would not come to her aid. The tourists on their two level, red touring bus only leaned forward, so that their cameras were better positioned to take photographs. They did nothing of use. None even thought to shout or make a simple distraction. "Don't do this," Kate said, alone, pleading to Mitchell. "It's not worth it." Mitchell with sweat pouring down his forehead replied, "I have nothing to lose." "But," said Kate, "I do!" And she kneed Mitchell in the groin. While Mitchell held himself, absorbing the pain, Kate ran as fast as she could. On her way across the lawn she bumped into Donnie, who held her in his arms. "Donnie," said Kate, "call the police!" However, there was no time as Mitchell had already recovered, and was charging ahead with his knife. Donnie, not knowing what else to do, turned Kate around, and made himself as a shield, allowing his back to face danger. Instinctively he closed his eyes -only opening them when he had heard a jarring noise. It was the sound of Mitchell tripping and falling to the ground. Mitchell groaned in great pain. He turned onto his back. His own knife had accidentally went into his belly. Kate rushed out and approached him. In spite of what happened she was still concerned. "Are you okay?" she said. Mitchell continued his groaning. "Did I trip on a bag of bread?"

Kate glanced aside. Indeed. There was a bag of stale rye bread resting upon the lawn. Donnie and Kate sat inside Kate's Golden State home. By the big bay window they intermittently looked out into the front yard, where Mister Mitchell laid. Kate smoked a cigarette while Donnie balanced an ashtray upon his lap. "I have to thank you for rescuing me," said Kate. She tapped her cigarette. "But I should add I'm usually not the damsel in distress type. I hate damsels in distress." "You don't like Rapunzel?" said Donnie. "Rapunzel was okay," said Kate. "But the damsels in distress I'm talking about are the modern ones. You know how they are. When everything's going great they don't need anyone; they're independent, strong, and eating cheese in their dragon proof towers, then when things get a bit sour they're playing the weak, frail, hapless victim, and they need to be rescued ASAP." "But that's everyone, isn't it?" said Donnie. "It's like when people go 'fuck the police' and later on a little trouble comes up, and they start dialing 9-1-1, begging for help... By the way, where are those cops? They should be here by now." "Mm, they're probably at a drive-thru," said Kate, "getting jelly donuts." "Heh, yeah," said Donnie. Donnie and Kate looked out the window, watching Mitchell lay still in the grass. "Talk about karma, huh?" said Donnie. "I'm not so sure it's karma," said Kate. "He tried to kill you," said Donnie. "But instead he tripped on a bag of bread and impaled himself . Pretty sure that's karma. Karma -- what goes around comes around, he got what he deserved -- that sort of thing, right?" "Yeah. I guess." Donnie gave Kate a puzzled look. "Is something the matter?" he said. "Don't you feel sorry for him?" said Kate, peering through the window, and at the man on her lawn. "Look at him laying there, like a discarded toy." "Wait, why would you feel sorry for him?" "He said he loved me." "And then he tried to kill you. I don't think that's love." "You know what they say, 'You know you're in love when you're in pain.' Maybe that pain drove my stalker to madness." "I don't think that's a proper excuse for attempted murder. If you ask me, he deserves nothing less than life in prison." "For attempted murder?" "We shouldn't be easing off on people, simply because their plan to kill failed. He would've done it, if we weren't so lucky. Let's not reward him for his incompetency." "But he didn't plan it. It was heat of the moment." "Regardless, he was intent on killing you, and for that he's a piece of shit that should rot." "But humans are flawed. Everyone has a moment of madness. Can't we forgive them if they're sorry? He did say he was really sorry. That or he was really sore."

"Hey. In my opinion if you try to kill someone, especially someone like you, without good reason, you don't deserve any forgiveness or mercy. Murder, attempted murder, rape, attempted rape, and torture is where I draw the line." Kate paused to think. "You know what I find odd?" she said. "What?" said Donnie. "I'm not even angry or upset that he tried to kill me. I'm just glad I survived. But the funny thing is if he tried to harm you, in any way, I'd be kicking his head in right now." "That's very sweet of you." "I'm serious. You have no idea how much I actually care about you." "Suddenly you actually care about me? Then why did you ignore me earlier?" "I was being stupid. I don't know what the hell I was thinking... Do you forgive me?" "Kate, I love you. It doesn't matter what you do. I'll never not forgive you." "That means?" "Yes, I forgive you." Kate hugged Donnie. "I'm glad you came here," she whispered. "Careful," Donnie joked, referring to Mitchell, "you might upset your number one fan." Kate squeezed Donnie with all her strength. "You," she said, "are the only fan I care about." "Ack," went Donnie, "you're cutting off my air supply." "Sorry," said Kate, loosening her hold, "I don't know my own strength." She rubbed Donnie's back. Donnie turned his head, ever so slightly, looking out the window. As he looked at the gray road a black and white car appeared along the curbside, and then there was a knock at the door. Chapter 53: Slam Dunk The JumboTron zoomed in on Kate's face. The booming voice announced that she had been selected for the half time, blind, free throw contest. The prize: A quarter million dollars. "Section 101, Row 4, Seat 1," said the announcer. "Congratulations on being our lucky winner. Please stay seated as a representative will come and collect you. One again, congratulations." "Oh, wow," said Kate. "I can't believe I actually won." "You haven't won yet," said Donnie. "You have to sink a shot in first. By the way are you any good at basketball?" After signing some paperwork in a quiet room, Kate was whisked through a passageway, and returned to the basketball court. She stood amidst the crowd, who had nothing but enthusiasm. Truthfully though they seemed a bit more than enthusiastic.

"Are you ready to win a quarter million dollars?" said the man with the microphone. "Sure am," said Kate. "Then what're we waiting for? Let's get this thing started!" A pair of hands put a blind fold over Kate. The next moment she was placed before the basketball net, on the division line, and given a single leather basketball. "On my count," said the man with microphone. "5, 4, 3, 2, 1... GO!" Kate jumped up and threw the basketball. It sailed threw the air, then a second later there was the sound of everyone cheering. Kate clicked her heels, delighted that she had won. "What an unbelievable shot!" said the man with microphone. "Now take off your blind fold, Kate, and claim your prize!" Kate took off her blindfold. Donnie was down, on bended knee, holding a large sign that read: "Will you marry me?" The letter "I" was dotted with a heart. Kate started choking up. She put her hand over her mouth. Donnie smiled at her, so big that it nearly took up half of his face. "Will you," said Donnie, "make me the happiest man in the world?" He put down his sign, and took out a golden ring that had a diamond the size of an eye. Kate felt her face become red. Her eyes welled up with tears. She removed her hand and said, "NO. I CAN'T." The crowd looked disappointed, though not as disappointed as Donnie. "Why?" said Donnie. Before Kate could answer she had run away. "Welp, folks," said the man with the microphone. "That's life: You win some. You lose some." Happy music started to play. Donnie was alone in the hallway of the sports center, under flickering lights, sat on his bottom too tired to even leave. While waiting for nothing in particular he saw something in the corner of his eye, a shadowy figure shuffling toward him. When it came closer it revealed itself as the janitor. "What're you doing over there, all hunched over like that?" said the janitor. "Nothing," said Donnie. "Wait a minute," said the janitor. "You're that guy who got his marriage proposal rejected?" "Yup, that's me," Donnie sighed. "The unluckiest man in the world." The janitor rested his push broom against the wall. "There are economies collapsing around the world," he said, "natural disasters, famine, disease, and pestilence, and you think being rejected by a woman -- albeit a very attractive woman -- makes you the unluckiest man in the world? Fuck you." The janitor took his broom and walked off. "Yah," Donnie yelled when it was all too late, "thanks for the pep talk!" He dropped his head and groaned. As he was about to get up to leave a slender hand appeared in front of his face. "Donnie," said Kate. "Could we talk?"

On a hill, overlooking the city, Kate and Donnie laid atop a checkered blanket. They laid on their backs, staring up at the stars in the night sky. "Well then," said Donnie, "this is nice." "I thought it would set the mood," said Kate. "For our chat?" said Donnie. "You make it sound like I'm going to do something really bad to you." "It's just my nature." "Oh, okay." "Now, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?" "A couple things actually." "Wait, before you get into it, I have to ask you a question." "Shoot." "Are we back together again? As boyfriend and girlfriend? "Do you want to be back together again? As boyfriend and girlfriend?" "Yes. You?" Kate took Donnie's hand and squeezed it, affirming her answer. "Glad our break's over," said Donnie. "Me too," said Kate. "Well now, what was I saying before?" "You had a 'couple things' to say," said Donnie. "Right," said Kate. "I just wanted to explain why, um, I rejected your marriage proposal." "It's okay. You don't need to explain. I know. You're still young, you're not ready for a commitment, you don't wanna be tied down. I understand." "There's more to it than that." "Oh?" "The reason I refused is because -- I still have feelings for someone else." Donnie kept his eyes on the crescent moon. "Who is it?" he said in a voice too calm for his own personality. "Does it matter?" said Kate. "I'm not in love with him like I once was. I'm sure it'll go away." "Just out out curiosity. Who is it?" "Stanley." "Stanley who?" "Stuart." "Stanley Stuart? The famous actor?" "Mhm." "But he's...black. I thought you didn't like black men." "Did I say that?" "You sure did." "Look, I can explain --" "Another explanation?" "Cut me some slack. I didn't mean it, okay? The only reason I said that was because I was upset with Stanley that day. I saw him cozying up to some woman. I don't really care about the color of anyone's skin."

"Then how come when I went through that surgery you became more attracted to me?" "Because...you became different. You didn't remind me of Stanley anymore." "That was a bad thing?" "I didn't want anyone to replace him. That's why I only dated, well, you know, people who look similar to me." "Hmm." "What does that mean? Are you upset?" Donnie turned his head to Kate. "No," said Donnie. "I understand. I would never want to replace you either." "You're so sweet," said Kate. "Don't mention it," said Donnie. Donnie sighed. Kate caressed his arm. "But this whole Stanley Stuart thing goes way, way back," she said. "Before you. It's nothing new really." "How far back?" said Donnie. "High school," said Kate. "I fell in love with Stanley when I was a freshman." Donnie counted in his head, "That means he was a junior?" "That's right," said Kate. "Hm, were you popular back then?" said Donnie. "No," said Kate. "I had no friends. I was fat, and pimply, and I had a s-s-stutter." "How did you meet Stanley?" said Donnie. "Seeing as he probably wasn't in any of your classes." "Oh," said Kate. "He just saw me sitting alone one day in the cafeteria and decided to keep me company. He was very charming like that." "Is that why you fell in love with him?" "It's one of the reasons." "Do you remember when it actually happened?" "Yes. It was tax day." "Your birthday?" "I turned fifteen" "What happened on your birthday?" "He bought me a rose." "That's it?" "It meant a lot to me at the time. Stanley was the only one that remembered my birthday, and he wasn't as rich as he is now. A fresh rose could've been a meal for him." "And that's how it began?" "Yep." "And you guys started dating after that?" "No, it didn't work out." "Why not?" "He became an actor." "Oh?" "Yeah. He won a role for a TV show, and then he became a popular kid. And then suddenly he didn't have time for me anymore. Other prettier girls, sure, he could slot them in, but me, I was no longer a priority."

"That...sucks." "I know. And I thought I could win him over by being more attractive. "But by the time I started losing weight, and he started looking my way again, he just got up and left. All the way to the other side of the country. And can you believe it? He didn't even say goodbye." "How rude." "Anyways, it was then I decided I had to get into acting too. I figured it was the only way I would get to see him." "Wait. So all this time, your acting career, everything, all the sacrifices you made, were for him?" "It's pathetic, isn't it?" Donnie breathed out. "No," he said. "It's sort of romantic. In a sickly way." "Don't get me wrong," said Kate. "I never asked for this. It just happened. If I could back in time and change things I would. Because nobody gets used to getting their heart broken over and over again, especially by one person." "Do you remember the first time Stanley broke your heart?" said Donnie. Kate paused. "Christmas, sophomore year," she said. "He came back to visit his family for the holidays. I spent a week knitting him a scarf with our letters on it: 'K + S.' But when I went to visit him he refused my present 'cause he had a new girlfriend. Apparently, they met at a Tiffany concert. They hooked up after they found out they liked snogging each other, and some other things I really don't care to mention." "How unfortunate," said Donnie. "It wasn't always unfortunate, between me and Stanley," said Kate. "In the beginning I was very optimistic. Even after everything that happened, I stuck to my guns. I thought eventually we would work it out -- but of course I was wrong. It just got worse and worse. Funny thing is I thought I'd get tougher, thought I'd build an immunity to it, but I never did. Every time he hurt me it felt as painful as the last." "I know how you feel." "But you know what the worst thing is, Donnie?" "What?" "He changed me. Stanley changed me. I used to be a good girl. I dressed modestly, I never went out much, I never drank, I never smoked. I was even saving myself for marriage. No, better than that, I was saving my first kiss for the person I was going to marry...which was supposed to be Stanley. But then he hurt me, so much, the way he was with other girls, that I went mad. I wanted to get back at him. I wanted to get revenge. So, I became bad, and I did things with other men simply to make him jealous. But he didn't give two shits. He didn't even give me so much as a glance. And then later on my behavior wasn't even about revenge anymore. It was just to numb the pain. To make myself feel better, and -- I know this sounds pathetic -- to feel more attractive." Donnie rolled to his side and looked at Kate. "You'll always be attractive to me," he said. Kate rolled to her side too and looked at Donnie. Her gaze however was held for much longer. "I'm sorry for all I've put you through," she said. "You didn't deserve any of it."

"You don't need to apologize," said Donnie. "I really mean it though," said Kate. "And I'll tell you something else too, things are gonna be different from now. No more petulant, childish behavior. No more selfishness. I'm going to grow up and be a good person. Donnie, I'm going to treat you better." Donnie looked back to the stars. "Donnie?" said Kate. "Sorry," said Donnie. "I was taking it all in." "What do you think?" said Kate. "I think you're already a good person," said Donnie. "Am I?" said Kate. "Yes," said Donnie. "Of course." "Doesn't it bother you the way I feel about Stanley?" "I'd be a liar if I said no. But we'll get through it. What matters is we're together and we're trying to make things better. Right?" "Exactly my thinking." Donnie sat up and then stood. He walked to the edge of the hill, which had a precipitous drop, and stared below. "What're you doing?" said Kate. "Isn't it funny?" said Donnie. "When you're standing on the edge of a tall building, or a cliff, and there's a great big drop below, that's when you get the urge to jump. Why do you think that is?" There was no answer from Kate, but when Donnie turned his head he saw her by his side. She had both her arms wrapped around his waist, with hands clasped together. She quietly rested against his shoulder. "Whatever the reason is," she said, "I won't ever let you go." At this moment Donnie looked into Kate's eyes, and she looked into his, and they exchanged a look only two people bonded by something greater than themselves combined could do. They shared a deep silence, between each other, as fireflies flew around them in the cool night air. Donnie took his finger and gently, softly stroked Kate's chin. When the sun started to rise they slow danced into the morning. Chapter 54: It's Me Months went by. Seasons changed. Their relationship seemed to be the perfect relationship. No drama, no conflict, but enough excitement to keep it going. The mementos in Donnie and Kate's room showed that they were a couple indeed. This morning Donnie was returned to his mansion, laying in bed. The sunlight from the window hit his eyes and gradually awoke him. He turned his head and noticed that Kate was not there, though the impression of her body on the sheets had been left behind. Donnie got to his feet, and yawned, and stretched per usual. When he pushed the switch to turn off his alarm clock, he heard the sound of sizzling, and the smell of hot fresh food. He went to the door, where he stuck out his head. "Kate, honey," he said, "is that you down there?" His voice echoed throughout the hallway.

"Yes, my sweetie pie," said Kate. "Do you need something?" "No," said Donnie. "Just checking." He pulled up the corner of his mouth, seemingly pleased, and reversed his footsteps to make a visit to his bathroom. After washing up, brushing his teeth, and doing all those things that you do in any bathroom, he went over to his walk-in-closet. He flipped the light switch, activating the flickering, incandescent bulb. Under this particular illumination, Donnie looked around for clothes to wear. On the shelf to the side he discovered a shirt, trousers, underwear, and socks laid out for him in a neatly folded pile. On top of it was a note saying, "Hugs and Kisses. Love, Kate." Donnie put on these clothes and then went hunting for a tie. He ran his hand through a selection of hanging ties, numbering nearly in the hundreds. He went through every color of the rainbow. Near the end he found something to his liking. But it was off the rack, draped over a peculiar box that sat upon the floor. Donnie got onto his knees to get a closer look. This was not just a "peculiar box" it was Kate's treasure trunk, the one that she had mentioned many times before. It was made out of stained cherry wood, copper, and had a sturdy padlock to keep it shut. Donnie stared at the beguiling object, wondering what was being kept hidden. He thought whether to open it, or just go on with his day and leave it alone, after all it wasn't his to touch. However, his curiosity got the better of him. He found a bobby pin and used it to pick open the padlock. He then lifted the lid of the treasure trunk. Inside of which were memories of Kate's past: pictures, letters, mementos from men once in her life, giving her words of adoration, and admiration, and compliments, all things you would want to hear on any rotten day. In spite of this, Donnie felt upset. It could be seen in his hands as they clenched unintentionally, crumpling whatever was being held. He continued to dig through the layers of "junk." Unbeknownst to him beneath them laid something insidious -- a deluge of clippings, magazine articles, memorabilia, souvenirs, and anything relevant to the name of Stanley Stuart. It was clear what this meant yet Donnie could not stop himself. He put his hands, finally, into the bottom, and pulled out the very last keepsake: a box covered in silver gift wrapping. "What's this?" said Donnie, recognizing that it was a gift he had once given to Kate. He saw it was torn open at one end. He took it, and took out the contents, revealing a shoebox. Within the shoebox was an album. A photo album that within were pictures, pictures of Donnie and Kate, smiling, and laughing, and kissing, holding each other, and sharing dear moments. So it appeared that was all there was to see, that was until Donnie flipped through to the last page at the back. He had forgotten that he had placed that photo there as it had been so long. The photograph was of Donnie, as a young man, and Teddy, who had his arm around his shoulder. The two looked like they hadn't a trouble in the world, like the world was ahead of them, and they were truly the best of friends. Donnie while gazing at this photo put his fair-colored thumb over his once dark face. His breath slowly escaped. He put away everything from Kate's treasure trunk and closed it with the padlock. He sat on his bottom, in no rush to go anywhere. He just stared at the blank wall. He would have talked to it, but he had done that once before.

Donnie went downstairs. Kate was in the kitchen making breakfast (remaking it actually as the previous toast had burnt black and the first pair of eggs were done too dry). "What took you so long?" said Kate. "Have a seat." Donnie sat down at the end of the breakfast table, where Kate served him instant coffee, and eggs and toast on a bone white plate. "Would you like cheese on your eggs?" said Kate. "Actually," said Donnie, "I'm not feeling too hungry today." "If you don't like cheese you can just say," said Kate. "It's okay." "There's nothing wrong with cheese. I like cheese on my eggs. I'm just not feeling hungry today." "You're not going to eat then?" "I appreciate your breakfast, but I'll have to skip it." "Why?" Donnie stood up. He averted his gaze from Kate, who appeared quite baffled. "What's the matter?" she said, still holding her spatula. "Are you feeling sick? We have some Pepto, if you need it." "I don't need Pepto," said Donnie. "Tums?" said Kate. "Kate," said Donnie. "I'm breaking up with you." "What? What do you mean?" said Kate. Donnie started making his way toward the front door while Kate followed from behind. "Where're you going?" said Kate. "I don't know, but I'm leaving," said Donnie, "and I won't be back. So don't bother waiting around for me." "Is this a joke?" said Kate. "After all we've been through you're dumping me?" "I'm not finding this any easier than you," said Donnie. "But why?" said Kate. Donnie, without answering, slipped out the front door and closed it behind him. As he got down to the middle of the walkway Kate came running out barefooted . She grabbed Donnie by his arm, making him to turn around. "You can't just leave me like this," said Kate. "At least give me an explanation." "There's no point," said Donnie. "It's not going to do any good." "I want to know," said Kate. "That's the point." "Alright," said Donnie. He gave himself a minute to think. "The reason I'm leaving you is because --" "Yes?" "Because you don't --" "Yes?" "You don't give me comfort anymore. You don't make me feel good about myself. It used to be that you were the first thing I thought about when I woke up, and the last thing I thought about before going to bed. And when I was feeling terrible, when I was feeling awful, I would think about you, and you'd give me hope, and you'd make me believe there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Now you're not even that. You're just

the thing that's blocking the light. To be honest, I feel better when I'm not around you, when I don't think about you. That's why I'm leaving." "So, this is all my fault, is it?" "I wish that were true, 'cause then this would be so goddamn easy." Kate paused, looking baffled as ever. "Come on," she said. "Can't we talk this through? What's the point of breaking up and getting back together again?" "You don't seem to understand," said Donnie. "This is it. We're not gonna get back together again. I'm leaving, I'm moving out, I'm moving on. Alright?" "But, but what about your stuff? All your stuff is here, and your home. What am I supposed to do?" "I'll speak to John. He'll take care of everything." Donnie walked over to his car. He reached for the door handle, but Kate pushed off his hand. "What did I do wrong?" said Kate. "I know I did something wrong. Tell me what it is and I'll fix it." "You can't fix it," said Donnie. "Why are you being so stubborn?" said Kate. "If you're not happy with me, I can change. I know I can be insensitive sometimes, but I don't really mean it." "This isn't about you," said Donnie. His voice was firm yet gentle. "And there's nothing you can do to help, so why don't you go back inside? Have a cigarette." "I know what's going on," said Kate. She got in Donnie's face. "There's someone else. You've met another woman, haven't you? Who is she? Are you going off to see her, is that it?" "I admit there's another person I need to see, but it's not a woman." "Wait a minute, are you one of those people? You know --" "No. I'm not." "Then what the hell is the matter with you? Why are you doing this?" Donnie brushed Kate aside and took a seat inside his car. "Don't you even care about me?" Kate cried. "I love you." "It's not enough," said Donnie. Kate yelled, "Fine! If you leave, then forget about us! We're through! This is the end! Your choice! What's it gonna be?" Donnie put his car into drive and left the mansion, but it was no easy decision as he looked back and saw Kate crying, her tears making her makeup run down her face, and her quivering lips, continually whispering the words, "But I love you." Chapter 55: Glass Dr. Rose sat on the curbside, smoking a cigarette. Behind her were the remains of the Sunshine Clinic. Shards of glass were strewn everywhere, and black soot from the fire was visible all around the once bright concrete walls. "I don't mean to bother you," said a voice, "but smoking is really, really bad for you." Dr. Rose looked up. Donnie was standing by, arms folded, staving off the cold weather. His car was just across the street.

"I know," said Dr. Rose. She puffed her cigarette. "I'm a doctor." "Why are you sitting on the curb?" said Donnie. "If you must know," said Dr. Rose, "I'm waiting for someone." "What I really meant to say was: What the hell happened here? It looks like a bloody war zone." "Protestors. They threw a garbage can through the window and someone lobbed in a Molotov cocktail. They were screaming something about fighting the power." Donnie imagined what had happened, all the anger, all the violence. "So," he then said, "I guess you're waiting for someone to come by and fix this?" "Fix this?" said Dr. Rose. "It won't ever be fixed. That's it. My life's work down the toilet." Donnie looked worried. "Are you serious?" he said. "Yes, unfortunately," said Dr. Rose, "all the machines and medicines were destroyed in the fire. Luckily, I escaped during the heat of the moment, so to speak." "But, but you still have the formulas and plans, right?" said Donnie. "I fail to see why that matters." "Because you can repair the clinic and reopen." "Not legally." "What's that supposed to mean?" "If you must know, the Federal Drug Administration has withdrawn approval to everything related to our little business. As of Tuesday we are barred from doing anymore procedures. They say it's because of safety concerns, but I know the truth. It's because of that news piece Channel 5 ran on us. The public got a wee bit outraged." "Are you not going to fight it?" "We've been fighting it since day one. It's dead in the water now. The FDA's struck us down and the investors have withdrawn all their money. They're putting their remaining funds into another company to recoup their losses." "What company?" "Enron." "Well, that should make a good return for them. The world has insatiable appetite for energy, doesn't it?" "Sure do." Dr. Rose snuffed out her cigarette and continued on to the last one in her pack. She sparked a lighter to smoke it. "You mind if I sit down?" said Donnie. "Be my guest," said Dr. Rose. Donnie sat down and joined Dr. Rose on the curbside. She glanced his way. "You okay?" said Dr. Rose. "You look like you got a peptic ulcer or something." "Actually," said Donnie, "I do feel a bit off today." "Why's that?" "Isn't it obvious?" "No. I'm afraid you'll have to fill me in." "I came here to make an appointment." "Oh. Damn. I'm so sorry. It's too bad you didn't come a bit earlier." "It's alright. It's not your fault."

"But, anyway, I don't think you really need it. Do you?" Donnie let out a long, deep breath, and got up to his feet. He turned half way around to leave, but with his first step on the debris-ridden asphalt he at once became frozen. He paused and tilted down his head. He gazed at a piece of glass from the clinic's broken window. In it was his reflection. The reflection, however, was not of who he was on the outside. The reflection was of who he was on the inside, which had the vague resemblance of his former self, though it was a colorless thing of no determinate gender, a brilliant, shimmering hope for the future, filled with peace, honor, amity, affection, virtue, and self-goodness. "What are you looking?" said Dr. Rose. "I don't know," said Donnie. "But I like what I see." He smiled and walked away.

THE END
November the 20th 2012 - 12:18 AM