slipSTRING continued
He was the other guy, the pleasure. Todd. I saw him regularly. And I knew we weren't going to the Fair. Tonight was Friday, which meant Todd would be going to the arena. I don't like wrestling, but I like Todd, and the string seemed to also.
He found a beer as we walked--I didn't notice how, but I watched as he emptied his coffee cup and refilled it with the can. He swallowed what wouldn't fit beneath the lid.
The arena offered only the sounds of its audience. I expected loud music, wandering lights, bikinis. People stood and drank, chattering in one corner about IRAs and about a new syndicate in another. My string fluttered, waggling its vaporous tail around the jaws of the people nearby. I waited for it to stiffen and jerk, but I was awarded only a pain in my chest and a film of sweat on my neck:
That one over there, Todd said, is the queen.
Of what?
This place. Every week, her goons roll that damned throne out, and she slides into it, jugs of corner-mart cola tucked under each arm.
And her hair is always teal?
Yep. And always the same shoes, same fuschia nails. Once, she dressed like a fairy, but her boys there, Lancelot and Galahad, they always look like well-greased apartment trash.
I wondered about the difference between apartment and trailer trash.
Have you ever talked to her? I asked
The string was getting excited.
Name's Loni, he said. I think she's with Cain.
I didn't know who that was.
I studied her throne. It could easily seat two people, and it reminded me of the telescoping lounges that scoop parents' asses at Pee-Wee soccer games.
Did she pay for that spot? I asked. How do Lancelot and Galahad keep people out of it?
Todd just looked at me--Some things are understood, Joey.
I knew it--the string convulsed and slapped itself across Loni's face. The queen, in her majesty, paid no attention.
I'm going.
Matches haven't started yet, Todd said.
No. I'm going to sit in that chair. The string has decided.
What string? He swallowed more beer--I had pulled the cool expression from his face.
Goddammit. This one. The one protruding from my chest.
Todd stared.
I fluttered my eyes, but the string lost patience with an angry heave.
We're not fucking tonight, you know that? Todd called. Christ, I'm gonna get Michael in here.
When I stepped up to the queen, the string coiled itself around her chest. Its terminal filaments sparked as they combed her hair.
I need to sit in the throne, I said, bowing.
Who are you?
Get out of the chair.
The throne's braces relented with a good kick, and the canvas supporting Loni sucked into itself. She looked like she'd fallen into a camp latrine. Lancelot and Galahad simply stared.
She screamed, flailing, but the effort only rewarded her more sucking--the throne had now pressed her chest against her knees and was on its way over. She had a lisp.
Let's go, Todd ordered. The string recoiled and lashed itself onto his arms. I could hear him apologizing as he carried me out.
Take me to the Ferris Wheel.
#
The string likes the Fair Grounds. It whips and sways and demands directions. By the time we got there, Michael had arrived.
Where's the cab? Todd asked.
On its way, Michael said.
He wouldn't look at me.
Things really have gotten better, I offered, since the string came.
Yeah. Todd sighed, looking back at the lane near the gate where other cabs were gathering, waiting for fares. Let's get her on the damn wheel.
I smiled. No problem. It doesn't close 'til midnight.
They ignored me, and Todd dragged me by the arm toward the Ferris Wheel.
Only one thing, I said--the string seemed happy--take me by that snack tent.
Todd changed direction. Beside him, Michael lit another cigarette.
You bring money? Todd asked.
Yeah.
All right, here, Todd snapped, swiveling his head--I gasped when the string stiffened and pierced him through the eyes.
What?
I swallowed.
Nothing. Give me a smoke.
He did--Last favor--and lit it.
#
When I opened the helium tank, Michael wasn't fast enough to get the cigarette from my hand. The tank gagged and wheezed, belching glops of fire and a string-tight lance of blue flame. Todd had already started running; Michael paused for only a second. I winked at him as I kicked over the tank. The tent went quickly from there.
They are all running. Todd's gone--Michael left me here. I belong here, with the wheel of fire creaking overhead, the tents hovering on their own flames. The burning people. I can't seem to awaken the string. I stand and tug, the string's dead weight spilling across my fingers. I tug and tug, but there's nowhere left to go. Tugging myself is painful, but I need somewhere to go.
