Underwood, Scotch, and Wry

by Brian D. Meeks

  He whipped the car into a spot near the street where he was confident nobody would ding his darling. They walked in and saw Kurt helping a woman and her daughter. There was an older man with a young guy at the register and a woman of similar age was showing a printer to a man who looked like he might be just as intimidated by tech as Arthur.

  “Lou, what do you think I should get?”

  “I like laptops, but desktops are nice, too, especially if you are a gamer. Are you a gamer?” she said with a devilish smile.

  “I have an arsenal of ill-tempered fowl, and I’m not afraid to use them. Don’t make me fling one of the exploding ones at you.”

  “Hey, he’s free. Let’s go.”

  Kurt saw them, “Well, I surely didn’t expect to see you here, Dr. Byrne.”

  “It’s the weekend. You can call me Arthur...or, I suppose, to be fair, anything you like.”

  “I’m not very good at making up clever nicknames, so how may I help you?”

  “I’ve decided to embrace technology and submit myself to her evil, time-sucking siren’s call.”

  “You sound like a gamer...well, a gamer with a flair for language.”

  “I am a gamer!”

  Kurt cocked his head. “Do tell?”

  Wen laughed. “He has been playing Angry Birds. What level are you on?”

  “I’ve made it through level eight and am sure one of the greatest bird-flinging strategists to have ever walked the earth.”

  “There’s like a million levels,” said Kurt.

  “And each of them shall feel my wrath.”

  “Well, then we better get you set up. Apple or PC?”

  “I have an Apple phone. Does that matter?”

  “You can synch with either type, but Apples are nice.” Kurt showed Arthur a sexy looking machine and talked at length about all the stuff one could do on it. Arthur listened and tried to take in the techno babble as much as he could. He was making a genuine effort.

  Arthur asked, “What is that over there? Does it have two monitors?”

  “Keen eye, Dr. B. Oh, I like that, I think I’ll call you Dr. B. Is that all right?”

  “It works for me. Do you earn commission?”

  “I do, but I promise I’ll...”

  “Oh, I know you will. I was just curious. So, tell me about the two-headed monster.”

  “This really is a gaming computer but, all joking aside, having two screens would give you a lot of space for doing social media stuff.”

  Arthur liked the look of it and moved the mouse over one of the few things he recognized, the browser icon. He clicked and it opened up with the computer store’s home page. Kurt’s phone rang.

  “I can’t talk now, sweetie, I’m with someone,” he said and paused, “Don’t be silly. I meant at work. I’m with a customer. Don’t be such a diva.” He hung up. “Sorry, he’s doing a show tonight and is all freaked out.”

  Wen said, “His boyfriend is a drag queen.”

  Arthur said, “Cool. Now, what sort of stuff comes on this bad boy?”

  Kurt asked, “You’re letting that one go?”

  “I have to admit that I’m sure there’s some sort of great shot I could take, but I wasn’t prepared for the gay guy dating a guy who dresses like a girl. That’s pure gold, but I drew a blank. I must be off my game.”

  “That’s okay. Maybe you can think of something later and get back to me.”

  “That’s sporting of you; I do hate to pass up such a gem.”

  “He really is a diva, though, but let’s not lose focus. You’re here to buy a computer. What do you think?”

  “Lou, what do you think?”

  “It is a sweet machine. If you ever did want to get into FPS or MMORPG, this would make you a bad ass.”

  “You took far too much pleasure in showing off that strange alien geek language of yours.”

  “I really did, but I’m happy to translate. FPS means first person shooter and MMORPG is a massive multi-player online role playing game.”

  “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

  Kurt laughed. “He would be the biggest noob ever.”

  Lou laughed, too, and Arthur knew it was at his expense even if he didn’t get the joke. It didn’t matter, though; he was truly excited about getting a new toy even if it still scared the shit out of him. “I want this bad boy right here, but I’ll need one more thing...a printer.”

  “We have a great HP printer on sale that would be perfect. I think I can even talk the owner into throwing in a free extra set of ink cartridges,” Kurt said and walked off towards the older man.

  “So, what do you think, am I being silly buying such a massive computer?”

  “No, it is awesome. Since it’s completely current, it will last for a long time before you need to upgrade.”

  “I want it!”

  Kurt came back and said, “I told him I could close you if he threw in the extra ink. He agreed.”

  Arthur put on a serious face, stuck out his hand, and said loud enough so that Kurt’s boss could hear, “You drive a hard bargain, but I’ll take them both.” He paused as he realized his blunder. “I’m not sure I can fit all that in my car. It’s tiny.”

  “I’m off in 30 minutes. I can drop it by your house.”

  Wen said, “I’ll wait until he’s off work and help. I’ll show him where you live.”

  Arthur handed Kurt his credit card, “I’ll have a massive pizza waiting when you get there. If you want to invite your boyfriend, the more the merrier.”

  “I’ll ask him, but he never eats the day of a show...such a diva.”

  Arthur left, got in his car, and tweeted, “Just picked up a new computer to keep up with all the cool kids.”

  Before he got home, it had been retweeted six times.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Kurt and Wen set up the computer while Arthur paced around the living room. Maltese seemed pleased with the printer box and had curled up inside. “How’s it going?” Arthur asked, sounding like an expectant parent.

  Kurt smiled. “Worry not, Dr. B, your brand-new, bouncing baby HP is almost ready to take its first breath.”

  Wen said, “Would you like us to set up your browser, Twitter and everything?’

  “Oh, by all means, set up everything. Scan the internet far and wide for all that might intrigue or inspire.”

  Kurt said, “So porn then?”

  “Good God, no, I can’t imagine having any of that wretched filth on my lovely new computer...maybe just a little.”

  Kurt laughed and Wen did, too, though more nervously.

  “I jest, fair Lou. You may put whatever is normal and respectable onto my new toy.”

  “Here you go, Dr. B, she is all yours.”

  Arthur sat at the computer and, with nary a sign of trepidation, typed his first home tweet, “My exceedingly able TAs have helped me buy and set up a new computer. Hooray!!!”

  Wen, looking over his shoulder, said, “That is a lot of enthusiasm for you.”

  “I’m feeling puckish.”

  Kurt grabbed another piece of pizza. “Thanks for the pepperoni and sausage, Dr. B.”

  “Thanks for escorting me into the modern era. Now what?”

  Wen said, “How about we show you Foursquare?”

  “I love Foursquare. I’m the Mayor of Tony’s Subs,” Kurt said around a mouthful of pizza.

  “Okay, I had heard of Twitter, but what is Foursquare?”

  Wen said, “It’s more of a game for your phone, but you can sign up online. Here, give me your phone, and I’ll start downloading the app.”

  Kurt helped Arthur sign up for the game and suggested they go try it out. “What do we do?”

  “We go to the bars and check in.”

  “Are you saying that in order to further my social media education, I will need to go to the bars?”

  “I am.”

  “If people only knew how I suffered for you students.”

  Wen said, “Okay, here you go
. I’ve already followed us on your behalf.”

  Kurt said, “And I’ve already accepted.”

  “We follow people on Foursquare, too?”

  “We follow people on everything,” said Wen with a wink.

  “Then I must, in an entirely unsanctioned by the school sort of way, say, to the pub.”

  Having gone a day without drink, Arthur decided it was best to ease into sobriety with tiny steps and possibly a few stops completely. He would take Sunday and possibly Monday off. Kurt drove because they could all go together.

  Arthur bought the first round unofficially, and Wen showed him how to check into the Pit.

  The Saturday night crowd was enthusiastically singing along to CCR. Arthur waved as he saw Eric. “Excuse me, my young enablers, but I must go chat with a colleague.”

  Eric said, “Word on the street is that you were conspicuously absent from the Pit last evening.”

  “Let the gossips wag their tongues until they turn blue. I’ve got other news, but I’m sure it pales by comparison to yours. You may begin with the sordid details and work your way back to dinner.”

  “Dinner was lovely. Emily and I had a nice time.”

  “You skipped the good stuff. Since when do you hold out on me?”

  “I’m not holding out; there is nothing to tell. We had a nice time, and I took her home.”

  “It is rare that I feel compelled to break out ‘balderdash,’ but balderdash!”

  “You are in high spirits. You rarely go Elizabethan on me anymore, so what is your news?”

  “Did you get even so much as a kiss good night and a gentle tug at her ample bosom?”

  “What, are we in 18th century high school?”

  “Perhaps we are,” Arthur said and ordered a scotch.

  “We talked. She is very bright and knows a lot about things I enjoy.”

  “You are being uncharacteristically vague, which can only mean one thing. You blew it.”

  “I really did.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I think I bored her.”

  “You bore everyone, but I thought you hit it off so well the other night.”

  “I thought so, too.”

  “Maybe it’s because you’re short. Women don’t like short guys. You really should look into getting lengthened.”

  “They really don’t, but I think it was just me.”

  “I was kidding about the bore thing. You’re a charming and educated hobbit-sized man.”

  “She is taller than me.”

  “You can’t trust tall women.”

  “I did like her, though.”

  “Well, let’s drink and cast aspersions in her general direction. Barkeep, bring me whiskey for my man here...and beer for my horses.”

  “So, what is your news?”

  “It’s a double feature.”

  “Could I just get the trailers?”

  “Sure. I bought a home computer, and I intend to use it.”

  “That is fantastic on many levels.”

  “What levels might those be?”

  “You really need one, and I’ve been enduring your mockery of technology for years. Payback is going to be a whole pack of female dogs.”

  “Ha! And deservedly so. Some of my best snark was over your love of every goddamn gadget that came out. I will gladly take your best shots,” he said with a slight bow.

  “I’ll get back to you, I’m sort of...”

  Emily came through the door and spotted them. She came over all smiles and loveliness. “Gentlemen, how are you this evening?”

  Arthur said, “I’m dandy. We were just discussing your date.”

  “We had a nice time. The food was delicious. I wasn’t sure if it was a date or not,” she said, smiling at Eric. “You didn’t even make a move.”

  Eric said, “You were out of the car pretty quickly.”

  “I suppose I was. Maybe it was one too many glasses of wine. I had a great time, though,” she said and pecked him on the cheek. “Okay, boys, what are we drinking?”

  Arthur looked at Eric and Emily and said, “This is a little more festive than the other night.”

  “I like to start off with demure before I drink my new colleagues under the table like a Russian sailor on shore leave,” she said as she flagged down the bartender. “Excuse me, miss, three shots of Grey Goose.”

  The shots came and went, and some more showed up. When Eric excused himself, Emily turned to Arthur and said, “So, why did you stop writing?”

  “Many women have asked me that very question.”

  “And what did you say?”

  “I said, ‘Maybe you should get dressed and get back to your boyfriend or husband,’ depending upon the circumstances.”

  “Well, these are entirely different circumstances, aren’t they?”

  “Are they?”

  “I’m wearing all my clothes.”

  “Yes, and that fact alone puts you at a decided disadvantage.”

  “Did you just forget how?”

  “Yes, that was it.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I rarely lie...no, that’s not true.”

  “Is there a deep, dark secret?”

  “Hardly. Sometimes people run out of ideas is all.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Bovine excrement? Really? And from such a fine-looking Russian sailor.”

  “Das, bullshit. What’s the real reason?”

  “What do you think of my fine friend Eric?”

  “He’s nice,” she said and asked, “Does he know why you’ve quit?”

  “He would never tell, well, unless YOU were naked in his bed. Then I imagine he’d give up the launch codes.”

  “I’ve read your last book and the articles you did before that. You’re a good writer.”

  “He would probably tell you his bank account routing number, too.”

  “Admittedly, not as good a writer as you are wingman.”

  “I’m sure he’d give you his car.”

  “Fine, I’ll figure it out some other way.”

  Eric returned and asked if he had missed anything. Arthur assured him he had not.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  After an hour at the Pit, Kurt rounded everyone up to go see his boyfriend perform a Beyonce retrospective at “The Good, The Drag, and The Ugly Night.” Arthur, who was well-lubricated, found he liked the music but really wanted to talk about spaghetti westerns.

  Emily dragged Eric onto the dance floor. Somewhere Fred Astaire rolled in his grave. Wen and Kurt joined them after Arthur refused to be pulled from the table and into the fray.

  When “Beyonce” exploded on stage, the crowd went nuts. He did some newer stuff, which Arthur had never heard. All the performers joined him on stage to sing “Bills, Bills, Bills.” Even Arthur knew that one.

  Arthur admitted, though it was under the influence and not admissible in court, that he had enjoyed himself.

  ***

  At seven minutes past one in the afternoon, Arthur rolled over and found Maltese curled up but awake. “Hey there.”

  Maltese said in a non-judgmental way, “Mew.” He reached out slowly, put a paw on Arthur’s chin, and added a rather long “meow.”

  “I suspect you’re interested in some food, but, before that, how did I get home?’

  Maltese didn’t seem to know but looked a little concerned.

  “Don’t worry. I’m fine. This isn’t my first Sunday morning, er, afternoon. Let’s get you fed and watered...and me, too.”

  Arthur got out of bed, and Maltese raced to the kitchen. When Arthur caught up, he found the little, black cat sitting patiently next to the bowl. He filled Maltese’s bowl with food and made eggs for himself.

  Nibbling on toast, Arthur brought up Tweetdeck and watched for a while. He had some more followers and wasn’t sure why. Still, it was nice of them to be interested in his musings, so he followed them, too. His first tweet was simply, “How’s everyone doing this afternoon
?”

  A student replied, “Just studying, Dr. Byrne, like every day... ;-)”

  He called Wen. “Lou, I’m on Twitter.”

  “I know. I saw your tweet. I was trying to think of something clever to say in a reply.”

  “That’s why I called. I got a response, and there is some strange punctuation.”

  “It’s probably a typo; that happens with tweets.”

  “Okay, so semi-colon, dash, right parentheses is an accident?”

  She laughed, “Actually, no. That one was intentional. It means ‘wink.’”

  “How in the world does random punctuation mean wink?”

  “It is a sideways smiley face, but the semi-colon makes it look like a wink.”

  Arthur turned his head and said, “How clever. When did you kids figure that one out?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s not new.”

  “Does everyone know about this?”

  “They do now.”

  Arthur laughed. “Nice one.” He hung up.

  A tweet came from Wen, “Happy to help.”

  Another tweet from a student read, “I’m just watching the Redskins game. You?”

  Arthur didn’t feel it was appropriate to say something about his hangover to a student, so he wrote back, “Just ate a bit of lunch, well more of a late breakfast, and am going to prep for classes next week.”

  “Cool. I’ve already read the assignment and three extra blog posts.”

  “Well done. Anything interesting?”

  “Actually, I just read a hilarious post comparing Snooki and Toni Morrison. Want a link?”

  “I can’t imagine they have anything in common, but you’ve piqued my interest. Sure.”

  A moment later the link showed up, and Arthur clicked on it. A browser window opened, but he didn’t start reading immediately.

  He got up, started to pace, then called Eric. “Hey, you got a second?”

  “Sure, but I’m not giving any details.”

  “About what? Oh, did you have a sleep-over friend last night?”

  “I said I’m not kissing and telling.”

  “You dawg. Was it that bartender, Craig? I think he dug you.”

  “Very funny...actually, he was giving me free drinks, no...Emily and I shared a cab, and, well, one thing led to another.”