[Fiction] The Night I Met Melvin


Tonight I’m less stressed than usual, maybe it’s the extra drinking, regardless, I’m at ease.

Knock, Knock

At my door is a guy wearing Elvis sunglasses, but it’s not Elvis. It’s a guy named Melvin that I sort of remember meeting a couple weeks ago at a party. He’s holding a dozen eggs. “Got a frying pan? Let’s cook these fucking chicks up?” It’s not midnight yet so I let him in.

I open two beers, hand him one and he finds a frying pan. He proceeds to crack six eggs and then asks me how I like them. Before I can ask he murders them and scrambled it is. Two minutes and two more beers pass and he asks me for hot sauce. I don’t have any. He looks at me, shrugs and proceeds to empty the eggs into the sink. “Can’t eat eggs at this time of night without hot sauce.”

We grab two more beers and adjourn to the living room. He is still wearing the Elvis sunglasses and starts telling about how he has been spending his days at Starbucks waiting for something to happen. He is coming to the conclusion it isn’t going to happen. He then receives a text message and says a guy he knows just took a lot of pills and is planning to shoot some guy his girlfriend is cheating him on with. I ask him if we should stop him and he says there’s nothing he can do – low on gas and spent his last three dollars on eggs. I get the name of the bar, grab four beers and we drive down to the bar where he thinks his friend is. He’s not there, but since we are already drunk the four beers on the drive over I decide to buy Melvin a drink and tell him to text his friend.

The name of the bar is The Horizon and Melvin tells me they are known for their wings. “Seriously, they are 10 for six dollars, but here’s the thing. You can get 40 wings for $24!” I just look at him and then he gets a text and says his friend is going to be okay, he decided to go home, turn up some Coltrane and just ride it out. Then Melvin asks me if I want to go eat chocolate chip cookies. I ask him how high he is and just nods.

At the end of the bar is a very strange girl who motions me to come over. I yank my head to have her come my way. She’s wearing a shirt that says SHIT and that’s seems like a sign to not get up from my spot. Sure enough she comes over. I order another beer and she reaches in her bag and pulls out a tennis ball. It’s cut in half and has a picture of her inside. She tells me it was from her boyfriend. “Should I stay with him?” I do some strange non-committal nod that could mean anything and then she asks me if I play tennis. I tell her no and she leaves and goes back to her spot.

The bartender approaches and tells me I need to take care of my friend. At first I look at him blankly and then realize he means Melvin. The bartender points over to the Golden Tee video game in the corner where Melvin is standing. He has removed his pants and appears to be pleasuring himself. The Elvis glasses are still on. “We can’t have that in here.” I agree and walk over and tell Melvin to pull up his pants and that it’s time to go.

On the way home Melvin and I stop off to buy one more six pack. Inside the deli Melvin stops and touches my shoulder, “Can you buy some hot sauce? I’d like to eat the rest of the eggs tomorrow morning.” I buy the beer and hot sauce. Back home I point Melvin to the fold out couch and decide to pour myself a bath and enjoy one more beer. Overall I’m still not too stressed. Not a bad night, not bad at all…



About Pulp Scribbler

The Writing of David S. Grant View all posts by Pulp Scribbler

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