by Arnold M. Herr
A Friend in need:
I was zonked when the phone recently rang at 2:45AM. It was Mickey and he was whispering hoarsely.
Mickey: He’s dead. Rupert Barnyogurt is dead.
This bulletin could have waited ‘til morning. I liked Rupert Barnyogurt well enough, but being awakened and told of his demise at 2:45 in the morning is a bit rude.
Me: Couldn’t this have waited until later? It’s the middle of the night.
Mickey: It can’t wait! He’s here.
Me: Where?
Mickey: Here at the store. I’m in trouble Arnold. He died here in my book shop. Behind the counter.
Me: Heart attack? Stroke?
Mickey: Premature burial. He died in an landslide. He was looking at
some Blavatsky volumes I had back there – he kinda dug that Theosophical claptrap when suddenly there was a tectonic shift in the heapage and he was buried. Simple as that. All I could see of him was one of his legs and a hand.
Me: Are you sure he’s dead?
Mickey: He stopped twitching half an hour ago.
Me: You could have called 911.
Mickey: What good what that have done? Lots of questions for me. You know how I detest authority figures. One look around the store and they would have been blaming me.
Me: Well….
Mickey: Now don’t YOU start.
Me: Whaddya want me to do Mickey?
Mickey: Help me get him out of here.
Me: And then what?
Mickey: We’ll take him home.
Me: Whose home?
Mickey: His. I don’t have a home, I live here in the store, remember?
Me: Right, and you wouldn’t want him there.
Mickey: And I’m sure you don’t want him at your place.
Me: Good guess.
Mickey: So his place is the logical choice.
Me: Uh huh…
Mickey: We’ll toss him in your van…
Me: After we pull him from the Vesuvian lava flow…
I could imagine the slag heap behind the counter wherein Barnyogurt lay.
Me: Yea verily, you really are the wizard of ooze…
Mickey: We’ll deposit him in his own place. Who’s gonna know?
Me: You. Me. God. Someone could see us struggling to get him into the van. His neighbors might see us dragging him into his house.
Mickey: Once we get him inside, we leave him there and we can split.
I didn’t say anything for a moment. Mickey must have thought I had hung up.
Mickey: You still there?
Me: Yeah. You make it all sound so easy.
Mickey: What’s so difficult? Didn’t you once say that his dead mother was in there somewhere?
Me: Yeah, mommy’s mummy.
Mickey: What?
Me: His mommy’s a mummy. She croaked years ago and I guess he saw no need to bury her when he could just keep her at the house. It’s not like there’s anyone else around that dump to complain…
Mickey: You saw her, right?
Me: Yeah, a long time ago. She’s probably still there, propped up on the couch. A dried-up carcass.
I remembered that once when I attempted to buy books from Rupert Barnyogurt it was like performing surgery to remove a polyp from an unyielding intestinal tract. Once inside, it was “snip, snip”, grab some books and then crawl backwards with them through the serpentine channel and emerge through a narrow, contracting aperture.
“Rupert,” I yelled, “does your mother know you live like this?”
Rupert: Yes she did. In fact, you might have come across her body somewhere in there. When I moved her in here for the last few months of her life, she said she thought she had died and gone to heaven. A short time later she did die. And since she liked it here so much, I left her where she was. There’s such a potpourri of smells in here, I hardly noticed the stench.
“Rupert,” I yelled, “does your mother know you live like this?”
Rupert: Yes she did. In fact, you might have come across her body somewhere in there. When I moved her in here for the last few months of her life, she said she thought she had died and gone to heaven. A short time later she did die. And since she liked it here so much, I left her where she was. There’s such a potpourri of smells in here, I hardly noticed the stench.
Mickey: So we place Rupert right next to her. Sounds like a plan.
Me: If we can get Rupert through the tunnels. He’s a pretty big guy. Really, really big.
Mickey: Oh, I almost forget the best part: he bought that 12-volume set of Frazier’s THE GOLDEN BOUGH. Paid me cash for it. That means I get to keep the dough AND the books. I can sell them to someone else. Who’s gonna know?
Me: You’re a prince among bookmen, Mickey.
Mickey: That’s true, I am…but you WILL help me won’t you?
Me: I’m your friend Mickey…that’s what friends are for.
Mickey: You’re more than a friend Arnold, you’re a GOOD friend.
Me: Yeah, that’s me all right……He was right you know…
Mickey: Who was right?
Me: Nat, another friend of mine. He once said “a friend will help you move. A GOOD friend will help you move a body.”
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Next: Mickey's mommy, Bomba the Jungle Boy, and a bottle of tabasco sauce take the stage.
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Me: If we can get Rupert through the tunnels. He’s a pretty big guy. Really, really big.
Mickey: Oh, I almost forget the best part: he bought that 12-volume set of Frazier’s THE GOLDEN BOUGH. Paid me cash for it. That means I get to keep the dough AND the books. I can sell them to someone else. Who’s gonna know?
Me: You’re a prince among bookmen, Mickey.
Mickey: That’s true, I am…but you WILL help me won’t you?
Me: I’m your friend Mickey…that’s what friends are for.
Mickey: You’re more than a friend Arnold, you’re a GOOD friend.
Me: Yeah, that’s me all right……He was right you know…
Mickey: Who was right?
Me: Nat, another friend of mine. He once said “a friend will help you move. A GOOD friend will help you move a body.”
__________
Next: Mickey's mommy, Bomba the Jungle Boy, and a bottle of tabasco sauce take the stage.
__________
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