The story so far:
Mornings Inglorious - 2 by wolfram
You ask a guy one favor, and not even a big one considering the fact that Neil had to pass through my neck of the woods anyway, and he feels like he can show up an hour early so he has time to run some **** errands. “Fine.” I muttered.
“Don’t you want to know where we’re going?” His eyes were beaming at me, excited, like a wino in a distillery. “Aren’t you curious as to the purpose of our slight detour?”
“No.” I wasn’t going to step in that one again. I closed my eyes, resolved not to say another word until we were done with this commute.
“I can assure you, it is both noble and novel.” I ignored him. “Okay, Mr. Fuddy-Duddy. You’ll just have to wait and see.” I could hear the smile in his voice, and maybe I only imagined the touch a menace beneath those last words.
I will say this for minivans. The seats are big and comfortable, and I would have enjoyed a nice rest in them, if Neal hadn’t started whistling and smacking his hands on the wheel.
“What the ****?” So much for my resolution.
“If you’re not going to have a conversation with me, then I’m going to have to pretend like you’re not here.”
“Pretend quieter.” I growled.
He didn’t. So much for my nap. “Fine. I’m here. Fire away. Where are we going.”
“That would ruin the surprise.” Neil giggled. Like a little **** girl. I swear.
“You’re a dick.”
“Don’t worry, Jacki..Jack, we’re almost there.” He tapped his nose as he said it. I have no idea why. “So how about this weather we’re having?”
I put up with it. Almost there, turned out to be twenty minutes of one-sided small talk, about his nephew’s science projects and his wife’s ceramics collection or maybe vice versa. I would make some grunting noises at the appropriate intervals just so I wouldn’t have to add anything. It all stopped suddenly, when we pulled up to an old firehouse, with two truck-sized garage doors, formerly red, but now covered with art and pithy bon mots like U Suk Lyk A Grrly Man and Killroy’s A Fag.
From the way he was still radiating mirth, you’d think Neil was on some kind of happy pills, but having worked with the guy the last five years, I knew this was his baseline. I wondered how he’d be if he got really happy. I imagine his head would explode. Literally.
“Stay here,” Neil said, like I was his **** lapdog. Which made we want to disobey. But getting a few seconds away from this **** was worth it, so I stayed, and watched. Neil hopped out of the van, yanked up his pants, and ambled over to a steel door on the side of the building.
The door slammed open, and a large gentleman stood in the doorway. Large, muscle bound, head-shaved, heavily tatooed and pierced gentleman. Maybe not so gentle.
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