Peter, Mike, John and Diana

(Los Angeles)

Part Two

                     John’s day started with a shower of clothes being tossed out his bedroom window; the clothes were his.  On the other side of that window was his recently titled ex-girlfriend, Susan.  She was the one doing the clothes tossing and at this task she was exceptionally good.  Soon little physical evidence would remain reminding her John’s existence was more than an unpleasant dream brought on by eating too much at an all-you-can-eat Indian food buffet.  It is those darn little donut holes soaked in sugar that get you. 
            Susan had been in his life since high school and they were to be married if he ever knocked her up.  He had made plans for all eventualities in their relationship.  John even had a plan if space aliens invaded: they would flee to the Sierra Nevada mountains and live naked in the woods while busily re-populating the human race.  They would hunt and gather.  They would live without showers.  They would have lots of sex.  It would be living as nature intended.  John made plans for all eventualities accept for this one, the asymmetric desire to part ways.  He had envisioned them parting ways, but it was always a joint decision mostly involving Susan realizing she liked women and then she and her partners would let him watch.   He enjoyed that one.
            The wet grass felt sensuous against John's back, inviting him to sleep again.  He had been sleeping on the front lawn since four A.M. when he collapsed there intoxicated and sure he was not welcome in his own bed.  Looking at the still increasing large pile of cloths a few feet from him John knew confronting Susan at this point would lead to public emasculation to a degree unseen in the annuals of public emasculation and it was the morning.  Morning public emasculation was just not John’s thing.
            John felt sick, he did not know if it was from losing Sarah, a woman who had occupied his dreams on and off for over a decade or the last glass of gin; gin had a way of disagreeing with him especially when mixed, as it was last night, with beer, wine, vodka, whisky, and a shot of an unidentified green liquid which he stole off the table next to him in the bar.  That was the problem with stealing off of tables; it might not play well with the drinks you already drank.
            John concentrated on his physical pains ignoring all the other needy and annoying thoughts that kept jumping into his head like a overly eager children trying to get their parents attention when they had clumsily rolled around grass filled with dog poop while thinking they have actually done a somersault.  John collected choice articles of clothing from the rose bushes, careful not to be seen, then left.   He then made his way down the street clinging to his clothes occasionally wandering mindlessly, occasionally pretending he had a purpose. 

            After many hour of boring wandering, John found himself contemplating his shoes sitting in front of a mini-market.  “This place is laughing at me,” he muttered.  And it was.  Every weekend he purchased gin here and every weekday he cursed it as the origin of his headache.  And gin he purchased here last night bore no small portion of responsibility to the fact homelessness now being his current state of being.
            A beat-up Volkswagen mini-bus raced into the parking lot and parked dangerously close to John.  John in his part did his best not to move an inch. “Death,” he thought to himself, “the point to the pointless of existence.”  He clutched his clothes tighter for comfort then laid down on the ground in front of the van.
            “John?” said Mike truly happy to be unemployed but only slightly mildly happy to have stumbled upon John who was at his best moody and melodramatic at worst, a needy S.O.B.  He always had cash though.
            “Oh, John,” said Peter while opening the van door and steeping out, “We were hoping to say goodbye before we left.  So… goodbye.”  
            John mustered up enough strength to talk, “We broke up.”
            “Well, I feel your pain,” mumbled Peter as he darted into the store.
            “I thought we would be together forever,” John said to Mike.
            “Ha!” Laughed Mike,  “Then you were not very observant.”
            “I hope she is happy without me,” said John with a dreamy tone to his voice.  “I wish her happiness in memory of the love we once held.”
            “Then you are not very smart as well.   Let me assure you she will be happy while she sleeps all those new guys she’ll be dating.”  Mike always wished the most horrible future possible for all his exs.  If he had ever truly liked them, let alone loved them, he would have never dated them in the first place.  People who dated him always ended as they started, disturbed.
            Peter ran out of the store with his arms filled with bags of junk food.  “Lets get going.”
            “Fine desert me!” yelled John trying to sound as pathetic as possible.
            “We are moving,” explained Peter, “we don't have time for your life.”
            “That wasn't very nice,” said Mike.
            “He's gonna turn touchy feely on us,” whined Peter.  He looked down at the crying John.  “…more so.”
            “Why don't we,” pleaded Mike, “take him to the ball game with us and let him find his own way back south?”  He looked at John with eyes reminiscent of when he found a lost puppy when he was ten and pleaded with his dad to take him home.  His dad. Instead, took the puppy to some undisclosed location.  John always feared his dad sold that puppy to a medical research lab.
            “Out of the question,” snarled Peter, “it's not in the plan.”
            “I mean this is the last time we will see the little shit,” reminded Mike, “we are moving plus he always has cash.”
            “I have lots of cash!” said John. “I am a lawyer.”
            “Come on! Please I don't wanna do this,” pleaded Peter upon realizing they were stuck with a whining dumped male.
            “Well, look at it this way he'll be less frugal without Susan to buy for,” stated Mike, “and you know how dumped males are exceedingly nice the first week of the break-up, maybe we can ride on that.”
            “That's true; but if he starts writing poetry he'll wish he was born a soccer ball,” growled Peter.
            Mike stared at Peter with utter and complete lack of understanding.
            “From all the kicking he’ll get,” Peter explained in an exasperated voice.
            “The deal is we'll take you as far as San Francisco,” said Mike, “just to see the ball game, then you can make your own way back.” 
            “I knew you guys wouldn't desert me!” said John gleefully, “Friends are more important then sex. You guys would never desert me!”
            “Why does he have to talk crazy like that,” complained Peter to Mike.
            “We'll just get him stoned or something— calm down.” Mike opened the door to let in John with a fake smile.
            John's face beamed merrily and chirped, “You guys are the greatest.”
            “Whatever,” sneered Peter, “But you better got a pocket full of presidents and be willing to redistribute it, cause that's the deal on this journey.  And no twenties, you know how I hate them with their tracking devises and—”
            “Maybe,” John cut in with a pathetic, pity-me voice.  “She has changed her mind, she wants me back; I know she does. I just have to make the first move.  It's my responsibility, as a man.”
            “Come on,” snarled Peter, “are you coming or aren't you!”
            “I think I hear her calling me now,” rambled John.
            Peter lunged towards John with fists clinched; Peter's intentions bring to harm him. His goal; however, was prevented by Mike who clung to Peter desperately, keeping him barely outside of striking distance of John. “You bug the shit out of me,” Peter yelled, “ya talk'n crazy shit!”
            “She still has to want me,” rambled John, “we are like meant to be... a unified soul... she doesn't want to leave me... this was only a test of my faith of our feelings for one another.  Hey?  Did any of that rhyme?”
            “I'm going to kill him,” yelled Peter.
            “Hey,” shouted Mike, “You know John, I talked with Susan two weekends ago and she said she was going to dump you then, but was like waiting for the right moment.  Namely, after she must have found someone else.”
            “Oh,” said Peter, “So, she found another man already?  That was fast.”
            “I bet she is dating that aspiring model dude,” said Mike.
            “Yeah,” said Peter, “he is hot.”
            “Oh,” gasped John.  “But just two days ago she said she loved me,” cried John. Anger soaked into John like he was a dry sponge. “Well,” he snarled, “she shouldn't feel sorry for me. I have my friends. Come on! I wanna leave this town.” John marched into the van like a solider steeled up to the fact he was about to embark on a terrific campaign that meant certain death.