The Adventures of Macaroni McSpoon
by Scott Hefflon
When last we left Mac, many things were happening.
Saying that many things happened is not a very profound statement. Saying that many things happened is a very vague statement made by someone that couldn’t think of a better transitional sentence. It is true, however. It is also rather obvious. It could, perhaps, further specify that many things happened in such a short period of time that they could almost be seen as simultaneous. When asked, in retrospect, that same someone gibbered violently about artistic license and self-righteous nit-pickers. That someone was deemed a pompous twit, and was immediately duct-taped to the ceiling.
“Come on. Get up,” a disembodied voice said in the darkness. “Come on. Sit up” persisted the annoyingly bodiless voice. For lack of anything better to do, Mac took the voice’s advise and sat up. His mind reeled, but returned a moment later. He felt displaced and groggy. Someone threw a glass of water in his face. Now he felt displaced, groggy, and wet. He exhausted the potential of his new darkness kick, so he opened his eyes. His thoughts were still somewhat cloudy, but they had sobered up a bit. The sun had gone public again, and illuminated things the way it often has a habit of doing. The disembodied voice in his head belonged to the squatting figure of a man beside him. “You’ve been through quite a shock, Mac.” the figure’s voice said. “That’s quite the understatement.” Mac stated under his breath. The figure shook Mac by the shoulders to help him collect his wits. Mac’s wits tumbled and sprawled drunkenly inside his head. “Hey, lighten up, Buddy.” Mac said shakily. The figure looked at him and blinked.
Whether or not these two events coincided coincidentally or for a specific reason, who’s to say? “How should I know?” might be what Who would say, if asked. But then we’d have to ask How if Who should, in fact, know. But what if we took Who out of fact and put him in a small wading pool with two or three well-behaved children, then would Who know? But Then is impossible to get a hold of, and the question isn’t really that important anyway, is it? People often look at things, people often blink, people often blink while looking at things. This was probably just an example of the last case.
Buddy Tosh did, in fact, look at Mac and blink. He blinked a few more times, just for something to do. He didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t that he was startled by not recognizing an old friend. That happened all the time. He was always stumbling across people who remembered his name, though he could never quite place theirs. It wasn’t that he was a remarkable kind of guy. If the truth be told, he was actually rather dull. He lived a quiet life, enjoying a good time. He was the straight man among his friends whenever they went out bar hopping, to the movies, or wherever. They generally had a gay old time together, but Buddy always felt somewhat excluded from their interactions. No, it wasn’t surprise that had him at a loss for words. It was because, as was already mentioned, he wasn’t very bright. His under-developed mentality had the tendency to leave his blocks all over the place. He was constantly tripping over them. He was up against one of those larger memory blocks now. He blinked at it a few times, but it didn’t seem to help. “Come on, Mac.” He said, for lack of anything wittier to say.
Mac got up, but decided not to soil himself further. He brushed himself off and followed his friend who led the way. “By the way,” his Buddy said, sidetracking into a fruit store, “Call me Tosh.” Mac smiled and tried to make a mental note of the change. He still hadn’t found any chalk, but decided to continue smiling anyway. Tosh noted the smile, and smiled back. They smiled at each other for a moment or two. Then they grew bored and bought apples and a fruit juice. “So anyway,” Mac started, walking in a random direction, “Where are we going?” Tosh pondered and bit into his apple. “Umm, Delicious.” He identified. Mac pondered as well, if not better, and bit into his apple. “Yes, Very fine.” He commented, so Tosh handed him the juice. Mac chugged the remainder and smacked his lips appreciatively. “Do you like to drink?” Tosh asked, sliding Mac a sly grin. “Love to.” Mac answered, sliding one back. “Great! Come on!” Tosh ejaculated in excitement, and strode on purposefully. “Yea!” Mac exclaimed (though in a parenthetic period of questioning). He didn’t know the purpose, but walked in similar fashion. So Mac and Tosh walked down the street eating apples to get sauced.
