Bear, Otter, & the Kid 03 - The Art of Breathing (36 page)

Dominic frowned. “You going to join the army?”

“No.”

“You going to start smoking?”

“No.”

“And if I catch you with alcohol,” he growled, “you’re in for a world of hurt.”

Yes, officer.
“I won’t!” I squeaked, as if puberty and I had just become casual acquaintances.

“Good to know.”

He paid for lunch while I prayed to Jesus or Buddha or Krishna (I’ve found when in a high stage of panic, you really don’t care, just as long as someone listens) or any deity at all to send a meteor the size of North Carolina to smite me from this earth to save me from myself. Unfortunately, Jesus and Buddha and Krishna all seemed to be away on some kind of God Retreat at Camp Screw You, Tyson Thompson, and no meteor fell from the sky and ended my life, so I couldn’t make my current situation any worse.

Just my luck.

The car ride back wasn’t any better.

In front of the Green Monstrosity, he parked his car. We sat there for a moment, and I wanted to say something,
anything
, but my throat constricted and all I could do was focus on breathing.

“Tyson,” he said, and I looked over, sure he was about to say something that would change everything.

“Yeah?”

“We should probably go inside,” he said.

Get a grip, man!
“Yeah.”

And that’s what we did.

People shouted
surprise!
when the door opened.

I smiled and pretended to be just that.

Streamers fell. Balloons flew. People laughed and clapped.

And now, an hour later, I’m glaring at Corey, who’s laughing way too fucking loudly at something Dominic says and reaching up, trailing his fingers along Dom’s biceps, and I imagine that Corey wouldn’t have the same smile on his face if someone smashed his fingers (and kneecaps) with a ball-peen hammer (and for a moment, I’m distracted on how it is exactly that I know what a ball-peen hammer is—I’m so full of useless crap).

“Your bones will poke through the skin,” I promise him darkly, unaware that anyone can hear me.

Which, of course, someone does.

“That sounds unpleasant,” Otter says, coming to stand next to me where I stand partially hidden behind a gaudy fake tree/plant thing Bear found at a swap meet that for some reason he adores. Otter and I have both tried to accidentally light the aptly named Gross Bush Tree Thing on fire. Both times, Bear caught us. He was not amused. “Who are you threatening?”

“Oh, Dom!” Corey practically shouts as he all but rubs his entire body up against Dominic’s huge body. “Aren’t you just
dear
! I don’t think I’ve ever met a man who has put me in such a good humor!”

“Ah,” Otter says sagely. “Now it’s as clear as mud.”

“Shards of bone,” I growl.

“Who are we staring at?” Creed asks, coming up to stand by his brother.

“Death by raging fire,” I say with a scowl.

“Tell me, Dom!” Corey says, louder than the thirty other people in the room. “What’s your favorite position? You know. In sports. I prefer to play all
over
the field!”

“Oh,” Creed says. “Now I get it. I think. Whose death are we plotting?”

“I think right now it could be either or,” Otter says. “Or both. Or neither.”

“So we’re plotting behind Gross Bush Tree Thing, then? I feel my life has been missing evil plots as of late. Anna’s pregnancy makes me tired.”

“What about Anna being pregnant?” Otter asks.

Creed waves his hand. “All she has to do is carry the little bastard. I’m the one who has to lose sleep next to her when she kicks me awake all night because her back hurts.”

“Yeah, probably shouldn’t let your wife hear that.”

“Too late,” Anna says, cuffing Creed upside the head. “If it bothers you that much, you can sleep on the couch. Why are we hiding behind Gross Bush Tree Thing?”

“We’re planning murder,” Creed explains.

Her eyes go wide. “Oooh! It’s been so long since I’ve done that.”

“What about last week when I left the toilet seat up again and you fell in at three in the morning?”

She smiles sweetly at Creed. “No murder. Not yet. Once I get your spawn out of me, then we’ll talk. I don’t want to be pregnant in jail.”

“It’s a love for the ages,” he says, kissing his wife on the nose.

“Who are we going to murder?” Anna asks.

“Tell me, Officer,” Corey says with a giggle and all the subtlety of an atomic bomb made of unicorns and glitter. “Do you ever get to use those handcuffs and nightstick for anything more…
adventurous
?”

“The black plague in your brain,” I mutter.

“Ah,” Anna says. “Have we figured out which one?”

“Not yet,” Otter says.

“I have an idea,” Creed says.

“You don’t have many of those,” Anna says. “Hold on to it while you can.”

“I forgot how much fun you are when you’re pregnant,” Creed says. “It’s like being married to a—”

“Choose your next words very carefully,” Anna says. “Especially if you ever want to do that one thing again.”

“—wonderful woman who brings nothing but joy and laughter to my life and for whom my heart beats eternally,” Creed finishes.

“Gross,” Otter says. “I don’t want to know what that one thing is.”

“Yes, you do,” Creed says. “Anna can clench her—”

“What are you all doing? You better not be lighting that on fire again. Otter, I swear to God you’re going to burn the house down!” Bear storms over and glares at Otter.

“Try to set something on fire once and you get blamed for it the rest of your life,” Otter sighs.

“Four times,” Bear reminds him.

“Gross Tree Bush Thing is just begging for it,” Creed says.

“Don’t call it that! I paid good money for it!”

“Against any and all judgment and pleadings on my behalf,” Otter reminds him.

“It’s my Charlie Brown Christmas Tree,” Bear says, lovingly stroking the plastic. “All it needs is a little love.”

“Good money?” Creed asks. “Think of all the starving children in Argentina or Kentucky you could have fed with that money. You know, Bear, once you have children, you won’t be able to spend money on such frivolous and hideous things. You’ll need to save for college or bail money and an attorney. I haven’t yet decided what direction I think an offspring of yours would go.”

“And diapers,” Anna says. “And clothes. And toys. And shoes. So many pairs of shoes.”

“And video games,” Creed says. “And alcohol for yourself because it’s going to be the only way you’ll make it through the next eighteen years. Don’t worry, though. I’ll teach you how to day-drink and not look like you’re drunk.”

“He doesn’t day-drink,” Anna says, frowning at Creed.

“I’m drunk right now,” he assures her. “Completely shattered. Want to go mess around?”

“Not even a little bit,” she says.

“Disappointing,” he sighs.

“I read in an article that the average cost of raising a child is over two hundred thousand dollars,” Bear says, looking sad. “Think of all the stuff we could buy if we saved that money for ourselves.”

“Or,” Otter says, “think of the joy when our son or daughter says ‘Daddy’ for the first time.”

“Or when he or she screams how much they hate you at the grocery store because you wouldn’t buy them a candy bar,” Creed says. “And then everyone stares at you because you’re so obviously a bad parent and you can’t control your little spawn of Satan.”

“That was one time,” Anna says. “And to be fair, you told him first that you were going to buy a candy bar for yourself, and that JJ was going to get a can of wet cat food.”

“Fucking with him is the only way I’ll survive since you won’t let me day-drink,” he says. “How else am I supposed to live since you trapped me with a baby?”

“Tyson?”

God, they’re all so weird. “Yes, Anna?”

“Whatever your plans are for Corey and/or Dominic, please make room for Creed in them on the receiving end as well, with me standing by your side. Might I suggest waterboarding them with bleach?”

“That would work perfectly,” I grumble darkly as Corey lets out another one of his braying-donkey laughs as he all but fucks Dominic in front of everyone. It’s funny, really, when you realize your best friend is nothing but a big fat whore who needs to shut his whore mouth and fall off the earth.

But to complicate things (I
am
me, after all), I’m also slightly (read: extremely) annoyed with Dominic for just standing there with a bemused expression on his face, taking such advances in stride. Corey’s
my
friend and ex-boyfriend, not
his
, and he needs to back the fuck away from Corey before I climb him like a mountain and plant my fist in his face.

Gosh, I’m a remarkably complex and fascinating creature.

Maybe I’ll just off the both of them and be rid of this entire situation. I think it would make things so much easier.

“Well, as much fun as plotting evil plots behind Gross Tree Bush Thing is for me,” Creed says, “I really think we could put our focus on the ill-suffering Kid here. It’s his birthday, after all. We can’t have him be murderous.”

“I’m perfectly fine with murderous,” I tell him, though I find it slightly odd that we’ve all randomly congregated behind a plastic tree bush. No wonder people are under the impression my family is weird.

“Be that as it may, let’s change things up a bit,” he says cheerfully as he reaches out and shoves the Gross Tree Bush Thing. Bear squawks angrily as it falls to the ground with a loud crash, revealing the five of us standing in close proximity in the corner of the living room. “Tyson!” Creed says quite loudly. “You need to be more careful! That could have killed someone!”

Everyone stares at us, including Corey and Dom. Corey, that motherfucker, has a knowing smirk on his face that makes me want to rip his lips off. Who knew I had such a propensity for violent fantasies? I should probably bring this up the next time I’m in therapy. Just my luck, I’m on my way to being a serial killer on top of everything else. That’s something I really don’t need.

“I will destroy something you love,” Bear promises angrily, bending over to pick up the tree.

Well, if I
am
going to be a serial killer, at least I’ll know where I got it from.

“Yeah, yeah, Papa Bear,” Creed says, rolling his eyes. “Because you’re so threatening.”

“He tries,” Otter says with a sweet smile. “It’s rather adorable.”

“Gag,” Creed says. “I could have lived my whole life without hearing my older brother describe my best friend as
adorable
. You really outgayed yourself this time, Otter, which honestly, I didn’t think was possible, what with the whole ‘gay sex’ thing. Congratulations.”

“Tyson!” Corey calls. “
There
you are.” He grabs Dominic by the hand and drags him over to us. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”

This is a horrible and horrendous lie, and he knows it. “Funny,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’ve been in the same spot the whole time.”

“Hiding behind the Gross Tree Bush Thing,” Creed says helpfully.

“Why do you guys have names for everything?” Corey asks as Bear continues to stroke the plastic. “Green Monstrosity. Gross Tree Bush Thing. I bet Bear and Otter have names for their penises too.”

“I’m already in therapy,” I remind him. “That can’t possibly help the situation.”

“Having a good birthday, Tyson?” Dominic asks me as if we didn’t just spend the most awkward lunch of our lives together and as if he hasn’t just spent the last hour being the object of Corey’s affections.

“Superb,” I say. “Illuminating. Eye-opening.”

“You okay, Ty?” Corey asks. “You sound a little… uptight.” He inches a step closer toward Dom. Their arms are touching.
He wouldn’t be able to do that if he didn’t
have
arms!
I think savagely.

So
, it whispers.
We’ve pretty much given up on the whole “seeing them as friends and nothing more” thing, then? I’m impressed. It lasted… what? A week? Two weeks? That’s quite the willpower you have their, Kid. Something to be so very, very proud of.

Shut it.

“I’m fine,” I say, though it sounds like I’m either about to explode or lay an egg. Possibly both.

“Good,” Corey says, obviously pleased about
something
. “I’m sure we’ll have plenty to talk about on our trip, then. You and me in a car for two whole days? My, what could possibly happen?”

“
Texas Chain Saw Massacre
comes to mind,” I say. “Or possibly
Thelma & Louise
.”

He grins. “I think we’re on the same page, dear heart.” He winks at me, and I muse on how dull a spoon can be and still be able to gouge out an eye.

“
Texas Chain Saw Massacre
?” Bear echoes incredulously. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

“Good job, Kid,” Otter says. “If you ever wanted to
not
go on a road trip with your friend, that was the way to do it.”

“Oh shit,” I groan.

“This is not going to go well,” Creed agrees.

“Bear?” Anna says. “Maybe you should just take a breath before you pass out.”

Bear ignores them all, even as his face turns red. It doesn’t take a genius to see his mind is racing at a billion miles an hour and going off in directions that a normal person with normal brain function couldn’t even possibly imagine. Let’s see how well I know Bear, shall we?
There are a
lot
of weirdoes out there
, he’s probably thinking.
What if they’re driving and they cross into California and for no reason other than for it to happen, the car breaks down? And of course it’ll be in the middle of the night because that’s when these things
always
happen. Their cell phones won’t work because for some reason, the satellites are hidden behind mountains or clouds or whatever and they’ll be stuck out in the middle of nowhere next to an abandoned meat-packing plant that’s the only building for forty miles. Tyson won’t be able to resist going over to it because he’s sure it’s still in production and will want to find some way to blow it up, because he’s no longer an ecoterrorist-in-training. No, he’s gone on to full-blown terrorism now, all because of vegetarianism,
but he’ll find the meat-packing plant is
not
in production, and it hasn’t been for
years
, and is now instead the home to a cabal of sadistic psychopaths whose only mission in life is to cause as much human terror and destruction as possible. Tyson and Corey will attempt to flee the chainsaw-wielding crazies who just finished having sex with their mothers on top of a blanket made from the skins of their victims, but they’ll be trapped inside the meat-packing plant because it’s been turned into a carnival of terror where once you go in, you can never get out. These things happen in California
all the time
. I know this because I watch the news now, and I read articles, and
every day
there are mass chainsaw murders in California, and I don’t know
why
no one has done a single thing about this epidemic of fear, but you can sure as shit bet that Tyson won’t be allowed to go there, no sir! I’d rather him be pissed off at me for the rest of his life for thinking I’m interfering with him even though he’s now twenty years old rather than have him become the sex blood slave to a crazy named Harvey who keeps him locked in a cage made out of femurs and attaches a collar around his neck made of dried out tongues and tied together with eyelashes still glistening wetly with tears. Of
course
I’m going to interfere if it means saving him from such a fate! There is no way in
hell
I’m going to let him be a fuck buffet for a bunch of inbred Californian psychopathic chainsaw cannibals! I know what happens in California! I’ve seen the news!