Flumes Volume 1: Issue 2 | Page 28

with stringy, shoulder-length blond hair and was well-muscled. There was a muddy, indecipherable tattoo on one bicep.

“Yeah, well, I just thought I’d be neighborly. I hang drywall. Well, I did until I broke my fucking wrist.” He raised his left arm to display a relatively clean plaster cast encasing his forearm down to encircle his thumb, with fingers sticking out the end. As he held up his arm, his fingers caught his attention, and he wiggled them, as if to verify they still were connected. Some of the nails were blue-black. Then he looked back at me as if we had never met. He was stoned.

“Yeah, well, I thought maybe you’d like some of this—you take a toke now and then, right?” He grinned impishly and with his good hand dug a plastic 35mm film can from a pocket. He eased off the gray lid with his thumb and showed me several chunks of hashish. “What say, man, can I lay this on you?” He still had a smile, but it began to look fixed, like a mask.

“Gee, Eddie, you know, I used to get stoned a lot but now I gotta be on the straight and narrow, being a teacher and all.”

“A teacher?”

“Yeah, I teach high school, so, you know, I can’t afford to mess around—maybe get busted. I could lose my credential.”

“Oh, right, right. . .” He scratched his chin and seemed to ponder this thought, that there could be a reason to turn down free drugs. “Um, there is something I wanted to ask you, though.”

I already had surmised there would be strings attached.

“I wondered if maybe I could rent one of your garages—you know, just to store some things, that’s all.” He peered at me expectantly.

“Well,” I began, my mind racing for the right words to mollify him, “I know it looks like a lot of space down there, but we’re actually using all the garages right now.”

He cocked his head and squinted at me.

“Really? Well, it’s just for a short time, man. I don’t need much space, and you got, like, four garages, man.”

I tried to look sympathetic. “I’m sorry, man. I’d really like to help you out, but we just don’t have the space.” It wasn’t true of course, but I was having visions of what would come from this camel’s nose getting under the tent. I started to back up a little and reach for the door.

“Hey man, just hear me out, ok?” His ears were getting red and he began to twist the cast on his arm, as if there were an itch inside. “The thing is, Roxie’s kicking me out. I can’t work until this cast comes off. I really need somewhere to store my tools and stuff until I find another place.”

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