Chim Chim’s Bad Ass Revenge or An Exercise in Pointless Conversation

4 Jun

–Lemme ax you something, would you let yourself be knighted?
Wolfie says this as he takes a huge bite off his gyro, tzatziki sauce dripping onto his shorts. He punches a button on the radio then puts the old Beamer into fourth. It’s a 2002, an old, beat-up model from 1971, but it’s a fantastic car for a seventeen-year-old to drive. I jacked it once when Wolfie was passed out and took it for a ride down Good Luck Road, all the way to the U of M campus. I was in ninth grade and had no permit yet. No, wait, I had a temporary one. Anyway, I got cigarettes from the bagel place down there on Rt. 1 next to Cluck-U Hot Wings. Just to look cool. And then snagged a ticket for $45 for parking in a loading zone. Just to look cool.
–Whaddya say, would you?
–What?
–Would you accept being knighted?
–What, like…from the Queen? With the sword on each shoulder and shit?
–Yeh.
–What in the hell kind of question is that? This is America anyway. What the hell would I have anything to do with the Queen for?
–I’m just sayin’. Hyperthetically and all.
–I don’t know. I mean, what…I don’t know. Jesus, I’ve never thought about that. You think of the strangest things.
–I’m just axin’ because, like, there’s a bunch of people who refused. You know, historically and all that. I read it. Just, in principle, I guess they don’t wanna be, what…what?
–Subjects of the Queen?
–No, what’s that other word…shit. Goddamn…hand me a napkin.
–Subordinates?
–No, like…patronized. That’s it. Patronized. They don’t wanna be patronized.
He hits another button on the dash. The tune blares out with bass that almost blows air on my face.
–What is this?
Wolfie winks.
My friend yousta be thin He’s get all the women We’d go kick it at the bar But
his drinkin’ went too far He could see over his belt The brotha was slim and …

–What is this?
–You likes?
–Yea. Who is it?
–Fishbone.
–Nice.
–Chim Chim’s Bad Ass Revenge.
–That new?
–Mhm.
–Watch it!
Wolfie clips the median and the gyro pops out of his hand, onto his lap.
–Christ.
He’s struggling to light a cigarette.
–What’s the matter with you?
–I’m fuckin tryin’ to…goddamn lighter, roll up your window…I’m tryin’ to switch gears and talk to you and, you’re getting me all mixed up…you fuckin’ work the stereo. I can’t do it all.
–All right, Jesus.
–So? Answer the question already.
–I don’t know. I mean…I don’t know.
–Well? It’s simple.
–I don’t… Yes. Yes, I’d accept being knighted.
Wolfie shoots a look of disdain.
–Pfft.
–What?
–What what. You know what. You fuckin’ monarchy sympathizer. Oppressor of peoples. You sellout.
–What? You just asked.
–Yeh. But I wasn’t expecting that answer from you.
–What the hell difference does it make? It’s hypothetical anyway. Fine, no. Ok? No. I’d refuse being knighted.
–Too late.
–Too late for what? You freak. Watch it, watch it. Jesus….you almost clipped that guy on the bike.
–Don’t change the subject. And don’t change your answer either. Now I know how you feel honestly. You let the cat out of the bag. Your subconscious spoke up. It was Froidan. All the way.
–Freu…my subconscious…what the fuck Woff? It was just a stupid question and a stupid answer. And besides, it wasn’t my subconscious answering, you pedagogic moron.
–You go ahead Mr. Big Words, but your answer just told me a lot about you.
–Jesus.
–Just sayin’. It reveals your character. You better watch it.
–Jesus, Woof, gimme a break. I don’t care, ok? I don’t really care to be knighted. You happy? And what the hell are we talking about this nonsense anyway? You’re fucking eating a gyro for Chrissakes and you got sauce all over you. What the hell gives you the right? Where are we? Where in hell are we?
–You have weak intestinal foraytude, my friend. You’re a fuckin’ blue blood in disguise.
–What? Weak…are you kidding me?
–I’m just sayin’. I’m not judging.
–Oh, you’re not judging.
–Juuust, sayin’…
–You idjit!
No one talks for a while. Fishbone is blasting out of the speakers.
–It’s fortitude, besides.
–What?
–Fortitude. Intestinal fortitude. And it’s Freudian. And hypothetical.
–Mr. Big Words. See? Your first reaction is to dominate. To oppress the lower classes.
–I’m just saying. If you’re gonna use them, at least know how to pronounce them. And you’re no lower class, you spoiled shit. You drive a goddamn BMW.
–It’s old.
–You’re fucking seventeen!
–Don’t change the subject, Sir Mr. Big Words. Taxation without representation, my friend. Taxation without mothafuckin’ representation.
–You’re an idjit. What the hell does that have to do with anything? You’re a moron with stained shorts.
–You’re jealous ’cause I’d have said no. I got morals.
–Oh…oh. You have morals. You.
–Yeh.
–You fucking shoplift Slim Jims from Seven-Eleven, you high and mighty momo.
–I’d have said no.
–Oh but you’d have shown up.
–Yeh, but just to give her the gasface.
–I’m not starting this up again.
–Just sayin’. I’d have told the Queen to piss off.
–Stop already.
Wolfie accidentally drops his cigarette on his lap.
–Christ…
–Look at you…you’re a mess, I say. –You just burned a hole into your pants.
–Yea, but inside I’m pure.
I slap him on the back of his neck. He laughs and then he says:
–Let’s get a twelve and go sit on the hill and drink.

(Author’s Notes)

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4 Responses to “Chim Chim’s Bad Ass Revenge or An Exercise in Pointless Conversation”

  1. Slyboots 04/06/2008 at 8:00 PM #

    Just fact-checked the car detail with Kent- because I am like that, yo! This one is a delight. And I hate to think of what the interior of that car would smell like in the summer. Just sayin!

    Thanks for the piece of sun and shine!

  2. (S)wine 04/06/2008 at 8:06 PM #

    I love these two characters…such well-intending idjits. In my original draft, Woofie changed into 5th gear, but then I remembered the 1971 model didn’t have a fifth. I had the feeling you were going to fact-check the car detail on this, so I edited accordingly. You people won’t let anything slip. Hope the sun comes out…tomorrow…bet yer bottom dollar that tomorrow…yea, whatever.

  3. J.A. 06/06/2008 at 2:00 AM #

    For some reason I can not explain; this piece reminds me of my adolescence (not that I am completely out of it); the scene takes me back to when half of my friends had cars and the other half rode shotgun. Conversations like this will appear out of the blue and close with a good laugh for everyone.

  4. (S)wine 06/06/2008 at 6:15 PM #

    This one still makes me laugh. Even now, days after it’s been on the site.

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