Post by Elliot Bowman IV on Jul 12, 2020 22:33:41 GMT -6
Title: Get a Girlfriend, You Bum!
An interlude between Get a Job, You Bum! parts 1 & 2
December 2017
"What's the worst that could possibly happen? You wake up some day, old and frail, and you see an equally old woman lying in bed next to you? Man, that means you made it! You know how many people would kill to have that?"
"And do YOU know how many people kill BECAUSE of that?"
Elliot replied. "No thanks. I'm not meant to be a one-woman kinda guy. I can't change what I am, Max.""Maybe if you'd just try once in a while, you'd be surprised," Max mumbled under his breath, but Elliot heard him anyway, sitting less than a foot away.
"Come again? You have something to add?"
"What's the point? You've clearly already made up your mind."
Max and Elliot had just left the Bowman Gym after a grueling 6-hour workout. Both men were soaked in sweat and sore AF. Too sore to change out of their clothes, they practically had to carry each other acrossed the parking lot to Elliot's Mercedes Benz. The sun, reflecting off freshly-fallen snow, was blinding them, but Elliot was too sore to lift his arm high enough to put the key in the ignition, anyway. So there they sat, discussing Elliot's love life and trying to get feeling back in to the parts of their bodies they'd all but thought had fallen off already.
"Annabelle doesn't want anything to do with me, Max. Every time I offer to take her clothes shopping, or out to a fancy dinner, she laughs in my face!"
"So?"
"So? So why bother?"
"Has the thought ever entered that thick skull of yours that maybe she doesn't want your money?"
"Oh, get outta here with that Dr. Phil bullshit."
Max rolled his eyes and sighed, which took a considerable amount of effort because it hurt just to blink.
"Dude, you're gonna be 30 next month. What are you waiting for?"
"What's another year, Max? I've had the hots for Annabelle since we were twelve. Besides, she has TWO KIDS and I doubt I could lose BOTH in baggage claim, if you catch my drift..."
"Maybe, if you cleaned up your act, you could be their stepfather."
"Ha! You're one to talk about cleaning up. You smell like ripe horse manure."
"I think that's you you're smelling, homie."
"Whatever. Let's just get outta here. My masseuse is gonna be working overtime today."
With a struggle, Elliot slid the key into the ignition and winced as he turned it over. Max looked out the passenger window and offered a small wave to Annabelle, who was smoking a cigarette outside Annabelle's Antiques--a company she owned and operated next door to the Bowman Gym--but she pretended not to notice.
"Just think about it, okay? Life's too short to leave anything to the what-if."
"K, Doctor."
Elliot threw the car into drive and slowly started to pull out of the parking lot, affording himself a brief looksy at the woman who wouldn't even give him the time of day despite the fact she sold some actual clocks, but whatever.
"I'm serious, dude."
"We'll talk about it later, all right? When I can lift my foot high enough to cram into your mouth."
"Big threat comin' from such a small-minded ne'er-do-well."
"Ooohh, burn. Ne'er-do-well, huh? That word costs more than your whole house."
"Fuck off."
"No, you."
Elliot pulled out into the flow of traffic, but not before taking one last glimpse at his biggest what-if in the rear-view mirror.
... To Be Continued ...
