She is Always in My Hair

[At a bar, Merteuil is telling Pasteur and I about how the tech she's having an affair with has a new girlfreind. I haven't figured out how to write that bit, so I’ll do it over the weekend, rather than holding the rest of the post. Check back for that it if you’re interested...]

‘Hello, my Hipsta’, how’s it hanging?’ Stockholm says, surprising me in the bar.

‘You’re so wrong,’ I say, laughing.

‘It’s not the racism he has a problem with,’ Dr Merteuil says, ‘It’s the graffiti.’

‘Absolutely fucking brilliant, the both of you,’ I say, kissing Stockholm and introducing her to Merteuil and Pasteur.

‘I’ve heard so much about you,’ Merteuil says.

I buy Stockholm a drink and the four of us move to a table. Pasteur begins lightheartedly exacting his revenge on me for the episode this morning in clinic.

‘Have you seen the two reactions he has for stories he’s not telling?’ Pasteur asks Stockholm about me. ‘He has “fascinating” and “interesting.” If you get an “interesting,” you’re okay, as he deems your conversation worthy of listening to…’

‘Nice,’ I say, harshly, interrupting him.

‘Oh, I’ll get to your “nice” in a minute,’ Pasteur reclaims the talking stick and shifts his attention back to Stockholm, ‘but when you finish telling him your story, he was interested in some stupid bit about your word choice or the tense of a verb or the alloy they make streetlights out of and where it’s mined.’ Merteuil laughs and Pasteur continues. ‘But God help you if you get “fascinating” because, should you chose to brave ahead, his eyes glaze over for a bit and he won’t say anything until he snaps out of it and does this…’

Pasteur does this performance peice, half imitation of me, half zombie routine, suddenly snapping awake and looking confused. Merteuil and Stockholm are laughing. I’m trying to look bemused.

‘Then he’ll look at you and go “What? Hunh? Are you still talking?” This,’ Pasteur says, ‘like many of the things he does, is funny, but only the first two or three dozen times he does them. If he’s really feeling threatened he goes with…’

He holds his hands out presenting me.

‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,’ I say shaking my head and smiling.

‘Merteuil?’ Pasteur, switching the direction of his presenting hands, now shaking them like a carny barker.

Merteuil deepens her voice and adds a nasal element to imitate me, ‘That’s great material. You should take that shit on the road.’

The three of them are laughing and enjoying this. I sigh, loudly.

‘That line was funny in,’ Pasteur says, ‘what was it 1997?’

‘Yeah,’ I attempt to usurp, ‘it’s almost as old as your bleating of “more cowbell.” Which was funny for what? Three and a half minutes?’

‘That cowbell shit is already played,’ Stockholm agrees.

‘It was already played two fucking years ago, when I first met him’ I say.

‘Nice,’ Pasteur says, harshly, adding the nasal element to imitate me.

They all laugh but, under the table, Stockholm puts her hand on my knee.