… “a wing”

10 Aug

One day Henry came into the studio with hair plugs. It was strange. He must’ve gotten them overnight or…but it was so disorienting to see him standing there like a short, jovial Frankenstein’s monster. It was as if someone had hammered little nails into his forehead and planted seeds.
Jesus. Henry-a-Wing…you ever see Big Night?
You facking guy! Henry let out the reference in a semi-controlled laugh explosion.
One of his hair plugs started bleeding.
Henry, you look just like Primo from that movie, I said.
Yea well you ain’t no Stanley Tucci mister, Henry said while patting my expansive belly. He exploded again in that rat-tat-tat of a laugh that always made me think of a Thompson machine gun being fired by Lucky Luciano or one of them guys from back then.
The small bead of blood squeezing out of his hair plug filled up quickly like a tick. It looked like it expanded to breathe in and never exhaled. Henry slapped me on the shoulders.
What’s on tap today?
Three live shots and a media tour, I said.
Henry was a helluva cameraman.
Media tour with who?
Denise Austin.
Who?
That little blonde exercise woman, I said. You know, the spunky one. Has a show on cable and everything.
I don’t know no blonde exercise woman.
It doesn’t matter.
For how long?
Two hours.
Jesus, Henry said and dropped off his bag of raw potatoes on the control room floor.
Listen, you think Angelino’d mind if I spent the night here?
What do you mean? I said. Here here?
Yea. Maybe on the couch, in the other studio. Just for tonight. I could shower upstairs at the offices.
I don’t know Henry. He’d probably mind.
You think? Henry said and picked at one of his holes in his forehead.
The small tear of blood was beginning to coagulate on his scalp, taking the shape of an elegant ruby.
Why? What’s the matter? I said.
Ah it’s nothing. I got thrown out last night.
You had a fight again?
Yea. But it’s nothing. Probably. She’s just upset is all. I just need the couch for tonight. You think Angelino’d mind seriously?
Yea, probably.
Yea.
We both stood in the humming control room quiet for a long handful of seconds.
That facking guy Angelino! Henry laughed again and moved his stout little body toward the control room switcher. Come on, he said, let’s do this. I can feel my life changing today.
And he picked up his plastic bag of raw potatoes.

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4 Responses to “… “a wing””

  1. hoist 10/08/2010 at 8:26 AM #

    “He exploded again in that rat-tat-tat of a laugh that always made me think of a Thompson machine gun being fired by Lucky Luciano or one of them guys from back then.”

    A machinegun laugh, hey?

    You listen to Waits?

  2. Lx 10/08/2010 at 8:29 AM #

    Actually, no. But I like his acting in films. And I don’t listen to his music, but I like his words. So I read the lyrics online. But I can’t really take his voice.

  3. Krebs 10/08/2010 at 2:09 PM #

    Yea youre right. Totally like Carver. It’s great.

  4. Matt DeBenedictis 12/08/2010 at 4:59 PM #

    Tension with dashes of confusion always gets me.

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