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Left Digestion
by Exley Steward
Thursday, February 12, 2004
Olga is still caught in Felix's pants
page: 5
Henry gets home late. He is stoned, hungry, tired and confused. There is no way review the situation but with distant acceptance. Let it slide boy, let it slide. The key won't open the door. The other key works and he steps into his apartment. He suddenly thinks of Rudolfa and feels sad for 18 seconds. There is a message on his machine from Sid. Sid is angry. He wants to know where the fuck his cake is, which is quite confusing. Apparently his girlfriend had baked it for her friends to be consumed at a slumber party kinda deal that was supposed to take place the previous night. Sid is freaking out on the machine and Henry simply decides not to pay any attention to him.
The phone rings at nine thirty in the morning. It is Sid. Henry is not quite awake. Part of his mind still resides in the land of nod but Sid has no time to wait for a sober brain to spew vulgarities at.
"I said case- not cake you fool-CASE, CASE, as in case of beer."
There had been somewhat of a misunderstanding and Sid wants Henry to make it up to his girlfriend who is still crying from the night before when she came home and found a cakeless fridge. Henry does not feel like arguing so he assures Sid he will do something to repent his sins. This seems to satisfy Sid who has run out of insults to hurl at Henry. "Ok buddy, I'll see you later."
Henry knows what he has to do. He buys a $123 bag of marijuana from a Chinese guy in little Italy. Rocket fuel. He takes it home and goes to work in an efficient yet lazy manner. After a length of time he emerges from the kitchen carrying a tray of very pretty brownies.
"These should make everything OK again," he thinks to himself. He is very proud of his brownies and has a cigarette to celebrate. Then he packs them in a pollution free bag, puts some deodorant under his armpits and on the soles of his feet and hops a cab to Sid's girlfriend's house. She is a beautiful woman with only one ear. It is the first time Henry has seen anyone with only one ear. She looks angry and doesn't say much as she shows him in. She does mumble something about some ass hole with no regard for other people's property ruining her party. Henry explains the communication error that had occurred and offers his apologies while unveiling the brownies. She is at a loss for words. She thanks him and offers him a beer. Hell yes! Things are looking up as they quite often do when beer flows freely. She puts the brownies in the fridge and comes out with two Belgian Ales. Belgian ale is like a bottled orgasm. Everything suddenly feels good and all is forgiven. They exchange stories about life in the Walt Disney unit of the Navy Seals and ponder the question of spontaneous combustion. They tell jokes about the defenseless and the cripple and comment on the sadness of world hunger. It is a pleasant time.
Henry knows his work is done. He alludes to the fact that he has overstayed his welcome while sipping his third ale. He gets up to leave but realizes he has one further piece of business to take care of before he can catch the subway back to the meadows. The cake is sitting firmly in his bowels and it needs to be expelled.
"Do you mind if I use your bathroom before I leave?" says Henry.
The bathroom has silver leafed tiles. It is quite breathtaking. He sits down squarely on the toilet seat. It comes forth stealthily, quickly, smoothly, cleanly: a long missile.
© Exley Steward, 2002
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