Cold Plate Special by Rob Widdicombe

Author:Rob Widdicombe [Widdicombe, Rob]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: uploadable
Publisher: Saltimbanque Books
Published: 2017-08-02T00:00:00+00:00

16

Back in the hood, there was no sign of the Hillites, which was good since I was trying not to think about them. Summer parked in front of her duplex, and the dogs must have known the sound because I could hear them barking from inside. Poor dudes were having separation anxiety.

“Do you take the dogs with you to work?” I asked as we got out of the car.

“No, silly.” But I didn’t think it was a silly question.

We went right into her apartment. She hadn’t even locked the door. The dogs went nuts, jumping, barking, licking, banging into each other, sprinting up and down the hall. We went down to her living room. The place was like a thrift store boutique. The first thing I noticed was a mannequin in the corner, naked, painted purple and green, serving as a coat rack. The coats and a jacket were hanging from her hands. “She” wore a blond curly wig and really set the tone for the whole room. There was a leopard skin covered sofa, black candles across the mantle of a defunct fireplace, posters of bands I’d never heard of on the walls. There was also a completely bizarro thrift store art collection: an African batik of native peoples playing primitive instruments, an amateur oil painting of ancient Egyptian temples, a big greenish Picasso print of one of his French carnival models wearing a funny pointed hat. Its frame was hand-painted red, probably Summer’s handiwork. I wondered where she was going to put the new clown painting. It didn’t look like there was room for it anywhere. In the corner sat a hamster cage on top of some milk crates. Above it was taped a hand-painted sign that said: Hamsterdammit. There were also strange things hanging from the ceiling: a monkey doll on one side of the room and a scary red and black piñata that looked like a devil dog on the other. A thick smell of opium flavored incense saturated the room. I felt like I was in another country. On another planet. Shit, galaxy.

“You want something to drink?”

“No thanks,” I said, thinking I wasn’t in the mood for any raw asparagus juice at the moment. I went over to Hamsterdammit, but I didn’t see any hamsters.

“Jerome died a couple months ago,” Summer said.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. He had a long, rich hamster life.”

“What are the dogs’ names?”

“Moosie, Vertigo and Soup.” She pointed at each one as she said their name but I knew I wouldn’t remember.

“Nice.”

Summer went into her kitchen. I looked at a framed picture on top of her TV, an old faded photo of two hippie parents holding up a baby with garland on its head. The dad wore a tye-dyed tee-shirt and had long hair. The mom had flowers in hers.

“Are these your parents? Here on the TV?”

“Yep. That’s Henry and Lisa.”

What a rebel. She was so cute I wanted to die. I started thinking about getting the bandages and ointment I had at Shred’s and getting her to help me change it.

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