‹ Prequel: My Little Raspberry
Can You Say 'Awesomely'?
2 ; -
While cursing himself for taking the leatherjacket that would most probably not keep him warm, he continued walking down the street, extremely aware of how freaked out he would be by someone coming up from behind. Even his cell phone scared the living hell out of him when it started vibrating and sing along to an up-tempo Beatles-tune. Without thinking he answered.
“Yo, what’s up?” What a dorky way to answer a phone, he thought. When no one had answered after a few seconds had passed he felt a cold shiver down his spine.
“Who is this!?” he shrieked, not caring if it was an old lady who by mistake had dialled the wrong number. Waiting almost one whole minute, finally he heard a deep, rasping breath.
“Your worst nightmare,” the voice said, as Brendon stopped, just to stare into nothing. He couldn’t tell if it had been a man or a woman. The voice was just cold, and metallic.
“What the fuck do you mean?” he said, trying hard not to sound scared, but before anyone could give him an answer, the caller cut him off and he was left alone. Taking the phone from his ear, he swallowed and looked around once more. Everything was getting out of hand for him. Panicking a bit, he dialled Gwen’s number and put the phone to his ear again. Fuck, no answer. Why wouldn’t she answer her phone? She always answered it other times he called, even when she was busy.
Not knowing exactly what to do, he stumbled along the wall, trying to keep his back safe. He knew how weird it must have looked, but just at that moment he couldn’t care any less. This evening was awfully quiet, and calm, and practically no one was out, except himself.
It wouldn’t be impossible to reach Benny’s, he thought, looking at his cell phone, which showed the minutes moving towards nine. Fred wouldn’t close the bar until at least eleven on an ordinary weekday like this. In Brendon’s pace, it took him twenty minutes to get to Benny’s bar, when it should’ve taken around ten. He reached for the door handle and pulled it towards him, freaking out when he realized it was locked. Not giving a damn about what Fred was up to, he banged on the door, desperate for attention.
After five minutes, the door was opened, reluctantly. Fred stood in the doorway, hands in his side, looking down at Brendon. He wasn’t in the best of his moods.
“You better have a darn good reason for interrupting me like this, lad!” Brendon swallowed and hawked, feeling the tension build up in his neck.
“Well, y’know, I though you were open ‘til at least eleven or something, and I thought, y’know, I might be able to snuck in and have a glass or something, y’know.”
Fred regarded Brendon’s face, which of course read petrified all over it. If there was one thing Fred was good at, then it would be knowing people.
“Boy, things have changed since you went big and stopped turning up every day after you legally was able too. I’ve got a kid to look after nowadays, and no time to keep the business running until eleven a weekday evening. We try to close around half past eight, but you know what, just because it’s my little superstar, you can come in for one glass, and tell me what’s bothering you.”
Brendon was too thankful for his own good. Fred got to hear time and time again what a great person he was from the door until Brendon had sat down at the bar. Then suddenly he seemed to have a wave of calm coming over him. He rested his chin in his palm and elbow. “I’m loosing my fucking mind, Fred.”
“I’m sure you aren’t, boy.”
“I think I am. I’m turning paranoid and shit, imagining people calling me, just to hang up. All this can’t be real, or can it?”
“I’ve got no answers for that, maybe it’s the fame that has finally managed to catch up on you. But here’s the drink you wanted, now, drink up, and tell me where it leads you. Jesus, maybe I have to give you a ride home.” The drink seemed to be very, very good for Brendon’s nerves, he was already starting doze, but managed to stay awake.
“That would be awesomely good.”
“Can you say ‘awesomely’ nowadays?”
“Fuck yeah, you can!”
“Yo, what’s up?” What a dorky way to answer a phone, he thought. When no one had answered after a few seconds had passed he felt a cold shiver down his spine.
“Who is this!?” he shrieked, not caring if it was an old lady who by mistake had dialled the wrong number. Waiting almost one whole minute, finally he heard a deep, rasping breath.
“Your worst nightmare,” the voice said, as Brendon stopped, just to stare into nothing. He couldn’t tell if it had been a man or a woman. The voice was just cold, and metallic.
“What the fuck do you mean?” he said, trying hard not to sound scared, but before anyone could give him an answer, the caller cut him off and he was left alone. Taking the phone from his ear, he swallowed and looked around once more. Everything was getting out of hand for him. Panicking a bit, he dialled Gwen’s number and put the phone to his ear again. Fuck, no answer. Why wouldn’t she answer her phone? She always answered it other times he called, even when she was busy.
Not knowing exactly what to do, he stumbled along the wall, trying to keep his back safe. He knew how weird it must have looked, but just at that moment he couldn’t care any less. This evening was awfully quiet, and calm, and practically no one was out, except himself.
It wouldn’t be impossible to reach Benny’s, he thought, looking at his cell phone, which showed the minutes moving towards nine. Fred wouldn’t close the bar until at least eleven on an ordinary weekday like this. In Brendon’s pace, it took him twenty minutes to get to Benny’s bar, when it should’ve taken around ten. He reached for the door handle and pulled it towards him, freaking out when he realized it was locked. Not giving a damn about what Fred was up to, he banged on the door, desperate for attention.
After five minutes, the door was opened, reluctantly. Fred stood in the doorway, hands in his side, looking down at Brendon. He wasn’t in the best of his moods.
“You better have a darn good reason for interrupting me like this, lad!” Brendon swallowed and hawked, feeling the tension build up in his neck.
“Well, y’know, I though you were open ‘til at least eleven or something, and I thought, y’know, I might be able to snuck in and have a glass or something, y’know.”
Fred regarded Brendon’s face, which of course read petrified all over it. If there was one thing Fred was good at, then it would be knowing people.
“Boy, things have changed since you went big and stopped turning up every day after you legally was able too. I’ve got a kid to look after nowadays, and no time to keep the business running until eleven a weekday evening. We try to close around half past eight, but you know what, just because it’s my little superstar, you can come in for one glass, and tell me what’s bothering you.”
Brendon was too thankful for his own good. Fred got to hear time and time again what a great person he was from the door until Brendon had sat down at the bar. Then suddenly he seemed to have a wave of calm coming over him. He rested his chin in his palm and elbow. “I’m loosing my fucking mind, Fred.”
“I’m sure you aren’t, boy.”
“I think I am. I’m turning paranoid and shit, imagining people calling me, just to hang up. All this can’t be real, or can it?”
“I’ve got no answers for that, maybe it’s the fame that has finally managed to catch up on you. But here’s the drink you wanted, now, drink up, and tell me where it leads you. Jesus, maybe I have to give you a ride home.” The drink seemed to be very, very good for Brendon’s nerves, he was already starting doze, but managed to stay awake.
“That would be awesomely good.”
“Can you say ‘awesomely’ nowadays?”
“Fuck yeah, you can!”