June 21, 2008
It’s Chinatown
Things got a little hairy this afternoon, in more ways than one. Perdida Cheyenne called me up and invited me to celebrate the Summer Solstice with her at the annual Chinese Food Festival in Chinatown. At first, I was reluctant, but then I remembered how hot she looked at the Poz Gala, so I agreed to meet her.
A few minutes after that, Colby called: “I have a fix on Harmonica.”
“Who?” I asked.
“That’s my code name for Perdida,” he explained.
“What?”
“She’s going to the Chinese Food Festival,” Colby said. “She’s meeting someone there, and I think it may be her murderer. We need to do some recon.”
“Today’s not a good day,” I said. “I’m really busy—”
“Fine,” Colby snapped. “I’ll go by myself.”
“No!” I yelped. “I’ll… What time should I meet you?”
Around two hours later, I drove the hearse down to Chinatown. This turned out to be a horrible idea. In addition to the lack of parking and the extremely heavy traffic, I kept having filthy Chinamen stopping me and asking if I’d sell my cargo to them. All I had in terms of cargo was an elaborate disguise I planned to wear with Perdida: a black trenchcoat and hat, a banana clip for my hair, and Groucho Marx glasses. I kept shooing the Chinamen away, but they wouldn’t leave me alone until I finally found parking and got out of the hearse.
I found Perdida waiting on the corner of Main and Elmyra. In addition to that stupid faux-leopard jacket and her awful jet-black dye job, she wore expensive Annie Hall sunglasses that she’d undoubtedly claim she found cheap at a thrift store. She also wore a bright red rose in her hair, which was sort of cute, even if it did make her look like a Mexican whore.
“Perdida,” I said, startling her.
“Girth?” Perdida looked baffled. “Is that you?”
“Of course,” I said, downplaying the disguise, hoping she wouldn’t notice.
“What’s with the disguise?” she asked.
I had to think fast.
“I can’t be seen in public with you,” I scoffed.
“Why do you always treat me like crap?” she yelled out of nowhere. She seemed mad, but I noticed her nipples hardening, and it certainly wasn’t an accident of the cold. It felt like it was around 140 degrees.
“Because I know you,” I growled.
Perdida smiled, sliding her hand around my arm. “Come on, big guy. Let’s eat.”
“Before we start,” I said, “I gotta use the can.”
Perdida shrugged. I wandered off to the Portapotties set along the vacant lots on Broadway. I stepped into a particularly smelly john, where I shed my costume into an old leather satchel. Cautiously avoiding Perdida’s occasional glances, I met Colby in a dark alley off Elmyra.
“What’s up, Colby?” I asked, voice trembling.
“I’ve seen him,” Colby said, staring intently through a pair of binoculars. “He looks familiar, but I can’t place him.”
“Who?”
“The guy she’s meeting,” Colby replied. “The one who plans to kill her.”
I said, “I would never kill—oh wait. Never mind.”
Colby gave me a strange look, then looked back through the binoculars and said, “I wonder where he went. She’s standing at the Eggroll Palace booth all alone. She should know I’d never leave her like that.”
“Oh crap,” I said. “I think I forgot to feed the meter.”
“Dude!” Colby exclaimed. “Meter maids are out in force today, just waiting for a slip-up like that. You better get to it. Hopefully I’ll get a clean shot before you get back, and then we can go home.”
“A…what?” I asked.
“We need to take him out before he can get to her.”
I suddenly regretted not borrowing one of Margo’s kevlar vests. I said, “Listen, Colby, don’t you think that’s a little extreme? Couldn’t you just throw rocks at him or something?”
“Don’t worry, Girth,” Colby said reassuringly. “I’d never implicate you.”
“Just… Don’t do anything until I get back,” I said.
“Fine,” Colby sighed.
I got back into my disguise and met Perdida in front of the Eggroll Palace stall. She already had a plate full of egg rolls and fried rice.
“Aren’t you afraid of getting fat..ter?” I asked.
Perdida looked hurt by the comment. “Don’t say things like that to a bulimia survivor.”
“You were bulimic?” I asked. “I never would’ve guessed.”
“Why are you being so mean?” she asked. “I thought we were getting along. I mean, Crocodemon is a go thanks to you, and Fuck Machines is a go thanks to me. We make a good team. Don’t fuck it up, Jessica Steen.”
I was about to apologize until she made that damn slant rhyme. I started to grab at her plate when I heard a pop, followed by the distinct feeling of a bullet whizzing past my head.
“What was that?” Perdida asked.
“You know the Chinese,” I said. “If it’s not a gun, it’s a firecracker. Hey, I need to take another piss.”
“Already?”
“Yeah, I…” I thought for a moment. “I have a prostate infection from all the beating off I’ve been doing, now that Margo’s gone all the time.”
“Gotcha,” Perdida said. “Do your thing, Lee Ving.”
I wanted to punch and screw her simultaneously. I decided to live out my cover story by yanking one off in the Portapotty before putting my disguise back in the satchel and heading back to Colby.
“I thought I told you not to do anything until I got back!” I shouted.
Colby looked guilty. “How’d you know I tried something?”
Crap, I thought.
“You just told me,” I said smoothly.
Colby looked even guiltier.
“Also, you’re holding the rifle,” I said, pointing to the long-barreled rifle with the sniper scope in Colby’s arms.
Colby laughed nervously, then said, “I’m sorry. I thought he was making his move.”
“This is ridiculous, Colby!” I exclaimed. “Nobody’s after her, especially not this alleged guy she’s with! She’s just celebrating the Summer Solstice.”
“Hey, man,” Colby said. “You were at the Poz Gala. You saw the attempt on her life.”
“That’s true,” I said, “but I think she can take care of herself. And even if she can’t… No big loss.”
I started walking away.
“Fine!” Colby roared. “Leave! That way I can be the hero, and you can keep being a big, fat loser!”
I whirled around and shouted, “I’m not a loser!” Then I turned back and kept walking.
This time, when I went to the Portapotty to change, I ended up urinating instead and totally forgot to put my disguise on. I didn’t realize it until I approached Perdida at the China Bowl stall and she greeted me with an excited hug.
“Does this mean you aren’t embarrassed to be seen with me anymore?” she asked gleefully.
“Oh crap,” I said. “I mean—yes, I’ve realized you’re tolerable. Now, give me one of those pot-stickers.”
It concerned me a little to be seen with Perdida when I knew Colby was watching, but I realized I didn’t care much. He knew I meant Perdida little harm, and besides, he’s my biggest fan. He’d never hurt me. Besides which, it was finally time to get out from under Colby’s thumb. As irritating as I found her, I did want to hang out with Perdida. We did make a good team, and she did give me massive boners. If Colby got jealous, who gave a shit, right?
So Perdida and I spent the afternoon and evening together. I began to relax and open up a little, and so did she. I told her some of the classic stories of Abysmal Crucifix, including the St. Louis riot and our shenanigans in Europe and Japan; she told me all about her bland suburban upbringing in suburban Minneapolis and how her passion for movies fueled her desire to escape. I told her about my childhood in Iowa and how easily I could relate to her, even though I suspected she was full of crap.
By the time what I assumed was a special Summer Solstice fireworks display (it turned out to be an average night in Chinatown) started, I felt like we’d come to a nice, positive, mutual understanding. Not exactly a friendship, but certainly a sense of camaraderie I haven’t felt with a woman since Robin Kelley.
But it made me miss Margo. She’s off on another modeling job. I can’t even remember where — she’s had so many recently, I can’t keep track. I’m glad her career is taking off again, but I want her — no, I need her by my side. Willing to stroke me off at a moment’s notice. Always wearing mildly to extremely arousing fashions. Perdida’s hot, but I know it won’t go anywhere. I need a real woman — my wife.
I miss you, Margo. I know you refuse to read the blog, but I feel like I need to get it out.
Written by Girth McDürchstein on June 21, 2008 10:53 PM
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Colby & Perdida
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