S
TAG FINISHED HIS LITE BEER and opened another. He picked up the receiver and pushed the buttons for star 69, the automatic re-dial system.
“Hello?”
Stag lit a bong-load of weed. Man, he thought, I haven’t worked at the mini mart in days. How am I gonna pay the rent? I wonder if Herdando has any good acid for sale.
“Hi, Bob.”
“Who’s this?”
“Stag.”
“Oh, what do you want?”
“I just pushed star 69 to see who called last.”
“Oh …” Bob sighed. “Isn’t that kind of pathetic?”
“Yeah, I thought maybe Agnes needed me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, maybe I should just kill myself. Maybe I should swallow a bottle of Aspirin.”
“You know, Stag, when you talk like that it makes me wanna come over there and beat you to death with a shovel. You’re like an injured dog lying in the road, bleeding to death.”
“I know. I know. Maybe I should do something. Maybe I should cut my nipples off or join the Army.”
Bob hung up.
Stag lit a bong-load of weed. Man, he thought, I haven’t worked at the mini mart in days. How am I gonna pay the rent? I wonder if Herdando has any good acid for sale.
The phone rang.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“Hi, Agnes.”
“Bob says he wants to hit you on the back of the neck with a shovel.”
“Yeah.”
“Got any smoke?”
“Sure, ya wanna come over and smoke a bowl?”
She hung up.
Something like time passed in Stag’s world.
Then a knock on the door.
Stag envisioned the police. He got up, stashed his dope in a Rambo lunch box, then opened the door.
“Hey, Aggie!”
“Don’t call me that. Where’s the weed?”
Bong-loads …
Later …
“Stag?”
“Yeah?”
“You ever shower?”
Stag looked at her and relit the bowl.
“You know, Stag, that ponytail of yours looks like a natty cat tail. Have you ever seen a Persian cat when it takes a crap and the shit gets stuck to the tail and then the cat goes out to play in the dirt?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve seen that.”
Agnes took in enough semi-smokeless air to stand up. “I gotta go.”
“Aggie?”
The phone rang four times before Stag’s answering machine picked up. The theme from
The Brady Bunch came on and the caller hung up.
Star 69.
“Yeah?”
“Hey Bob, it’s …”
“Oh, hey Stag. I just called ya to tell ya that Agnes is at my pad now.”
After a silence Stag said, “I just burned a scar on my stomach by dripping hot candle wax on my belly.” Stag’s tears dripped down onto the telephone.
Bob hung up.
Stag looked at the plastic digital watch strapped to his wrist. “Shit!” He ran into his bedroom and fumbled through his closet looking for a suitable videocassette to tape
Mystery Science Theatre.
The phone rang while Stag was busy getting
Attack of the Mushroom People recorded.
Star 69.
“Bueno.”
“Uh, yeah, hello?”
“Stag, that you man?”
“Herdando?”
“Si. You looking to sing with William Shatner?”
Stag couldn’t keep the high-pitched whine mixed with tears out of his voice, but he answered anyway. “Yes, Herdando, por favor.”
Arrangments made, Stag started searching through his laundry basket—until he jumped at the sound of someone knocking on his front door.
Stag peeked out the spy hole in the door, then opened up.
“Bob … hey man … what’s up?”
“Can I borrow some weed? Not for me. Aggie said she was thinking about you.”
“About me?”
“Yeah, she said if you really liked her you’d probably lend her some pot.”
“She said that?”
“I just told you.”
“Well, you know, if it’s for Aggie … Just a minute.” Stag went back to rummaging in the dirty clothes.
