Huh.

After saying our temporary goodbyes to the band, Margo and I picked up the hearse from long-term parking, then drove back up to Studio City.

The apartment was stuffy and reeked of cat, as is often the case when we leave for extended periods. I opened up the sliding balcony door and all the windows to air it out while Margo played with our cats, who always act a little funny when we come back. (Margo thinks they’re lonely and need attention, but I’m pretty sure they’re pissed off about no longer getting the run of the place.) Then, I checked the VoiceMail. We had about 15 messages, but only four struck me as important:

1. February 27th: “Hey, guys, it’s Colby. You might’ve already heard this already, but it turns out Dana dumped me, and because of it, now I’m homeless. There’s a hostel in Hollywood I’m staying at, but all I got to my name is a laptop, so when you guys get back from your tour, could you give me a call and maybe help me out with a place to stay or something? Thanks.”
2. March 11th: “Hey, guys, it’s Colby again. Things are going okay. Dana and I are still broken up, but she gave me permission to write a screenplay about her life. I told you about it, right? It’s pretty traumatic. If you don’t remember, you can check out my MySpace blog for details. I’m trying to get into contact with this screenwriter, Perdida Cheyenne. It seems like we’d have a lot in common, so she might check it out. She’s working with Vance Sloane, so I thought maybe you guys could help me out with that. Thanks.”
3. March 15th: “Mr. McDürchstein, this is Sergeant Thaddeus Breaker of the Los Angeles Police Department. We were given your contact information by a Colby Witherspoon. We arrested him last night on suspicion of conspiracy to commit murder. He says it’s a misunderstanding that you can explain. Give me a call at 877-275-5273, extension 2776. Again, my name is Sergeant Thaddeus Breaker.”
4. April 19th: “Hey, guys, it’s Colby again. You might start to hear some weird stuff about me and Perdida Cheyenne, and Dana and this psychiatrist guy who’s trying to kill us. I swear, not very much of it is true. Give me a call when you’re back.”

Huh.

You might be wondering why Colby didn’t find a more direct method of contacting us, such as e-mail, MySpace, or cell phone. First, we’d never give him our cell phone number. Come on… Secondly, I don’t know why he didn’t use his computer. Margo has a laptop that we use to stay on e-mail and everything. In fact, she’s e-mailed Colby once a week for the entire tour with blogs for him to post on our behalf.

I picked up the phone and speed-dialed Colby.

“Hello?”

“Hey, man, it’s Girth. We just got back.”

“Hey, man! What’s happening?”

“Not much. Just got your messages. And one from some cop. What’s going on?”

“Oh, I had to do 30 days in Chino on account of I tried to kill a shrink who wanted to rape Dana. Perdida Cheyenne called the cops on me.”

“That sucks, man.”

“Don’t worry,” Colby said. “I’ll take care of her.”

“What?”

“But I’ll need your help. I’ll call you in a few days.”

Click.

Sometimes I hate my life.