Phyllis

  My friends showed up. Matt and Jack, the little brother of Stacie.
    I say little, because he is younger. He’s a pretty big human. Giant. Gangly. Beer bellied, a head like a block of stone. Odd limbed and awkward, deep sunk eyes and crooked jaw.
    Jack is wearing a Spandex Under Armor bike shirt tucked into blue jeans with a white studded belt. He’s got on cowboy boots.
    I stand there looking at him in my doorway, thinking, at least he doesn’t have on his cowboy hat.
    I’m not too excited about taking Jack down into the city dressed like this, but whatever, I’m just glad he’s here.
    His sister is getting married and we are all meeting up with the groom and the groomsmen, for a bachelor party. It’s Saturday night, in the late spring. You have to take full advantage of Saturday night in the late spring. Blink and you’ll miss it.
    Matt, small and quiet, has a bottle of cheap vodka, that he keeps at his side at all times the way a gun slinger from the Old West keeps his six shooter. So we get into that vodka. Jack wants beer so I send him down to the corner store.
    When we are alone, Matt says, “He’s got like four dress shirts hanging up in his car. I thought when he got here, he was gonna put one on. I was wrong.”
    Jack, comes back with Old English 40 oz. malt liquor and sits down on my couch.
    I’m glad he’s here. He’s a fucking weirdo. I love weirdos. He's a good friend to me. I would rather spend my time with odd ducks than with people who bore the fuck out of you.
    “That Spanish chick at the store is mean as Hell.”
    “She hates white people.”
    “Rightfully so, it’s a Dominican neighborhood and you’re killing it.” Matt says.
    “The corner store girl, she knows you’re with me.” I explain.
    “Yeah, how?” Jack asks.
    “She just knows, she can smell it on you.” I said, “Spout went down to the corner store on Cinco De Mayo...man, she get’s excited about all the holidays, all of them, even like President’s day…”
    “This is true,” Matt confirmed, “I was there on Columbus Day, she wanted to have a party.”
    “See.” I said, “So, there it is, Cinco De Mayo, she comes home and says, “HAPPY CINCO DE MAYO! Then, she wants to have tacos and Coronas. Sure. So, I start cooking and she goes down stairs to the corner store for the beer. Well, she opens up the door, addresses everybody in the store, throwing her hands in the air, “HAPPY CINCO DE MAYO!
    “The girl behind the counter almost killed her. She yelled out, “WE’RE NOT MEXICANS!
    “Then they kicked her out of the store and wouldn’t even sell her the Corona. I had to walk down there and explain to them that Spout gets excited about all of the holidays, even the bullshit ones like Flag Day and says Happy Cinco De Mayo to everybody on the 5th of May, even black people. They didn’t believe me. I told them that we definitely knew that they were Dominican and, then they barely excepted my apology and wouldn’t even look me in the eye. Plus, then my god damn change was wrong when I bought the beer.”
    “Oh Shit!”
    “Now I’ve got to go up the hill to the other store for beer.”
    We had a few more drinks there in my apartment and then Jack finished his 40. He was already getting kind of loopy. Big as he was, he really couldn’t handle his liquor.
    I liked him anyways.

    We took the train downtown. There was a young chick, maybe 19, with a cast on sitting next to me.
    The cast was covered in signatures.
    “Even the UPS man signed it.” She said proudly.
    Matt was a mailman, he nodded solemnly.
    “He’s a postal carrier.” I said, “Do you want him to sign your cast?”
    “Ok, sure.”
    “Do you have a pen?” Matt asked.
    “No.”
    “A marker?”
    “Forget it.” She said, “You missed your chance.”
    She was joking, but nobody laughed.


    We met them at a small strip club somewhere in the East Village.
    They weren’t drunk and we were about halfway there. I said, “You guys got some catching up to do.”
    They gave me the deer in the headlights look.
    I was happy to see my buddy, the groom, but his friends, his groomsmen, were not my style. There were two of them. The quiet fat kid who didn’t say anything and then, the best man, who as these things go, wouldn’t shut the hell up.
    He kept talking in circles. I didn’t hear a word of what he said, I just kept looking at his weird greasy hair. It looked like an overgrown bush of pubes that was only overgrown so bad because it was majorly thinning out. You know, look horrible for the sake of self defense. If I had that kind of curse, I would shave my head.
    The guy also had a high pitched lispy voice and seemed effeminate. Certain mannerisms. A non issue, he’s queer, I thought. Who cares?
    I found out quickly through conversation that he was an amateur stand up comedian and writer. He was annoying and so are all stand ups.
    He’s gay and so are all stand ups.
    On with the show.

    Inside the strip club, the girls looked worn out. They were low energy. Their tits did not point upward to Heaven. When they walked, their knees knocked together.
    This was just another Saturday night in their long eternity of shame and glitter.
    I took a seat at the bar and ordered two beers. One for me, one for the groom. The beers came out in bottles because there was no tap. The bartender was not a bartender, he wouldn’t have known how to fill a glass full of beer if you gave him a detailed YouTube video to study.
    As soon as my change came over, a bloodthirsty dancer was rubbing my shoulders.
    “Do you want a dance?”
    I spun around and studied her over. Like when you are in a used car lot, kicking the tires of a Chrysler. Like when you consider buying Army Surplus goods at the flea market. Ect. Ect.
    “No thanks,” I said.
    I already had all of her diseases. I was looking for new unique ones to round out my collection. Hers were tired.
    “What’s your name.” I like hearing stripper names. Rocket. Candy. Razzle.
    “Phyllis.” She said.
    “Phyllis?” I was puzzled, “That’s not a stripper name, that’s a lunch lady name.”
    “I’m not really a stripper.” She said, “I’m just doing this to put myself through nursing school.”
    Over the stereo, Motle Cru came on, “Girls, Girls, Girls”
    Everybody in the place let out a desperate sigh of dissatisfaction followed by some nervous twitches that they were not conscious of.
    I’ll tell you all about your unconscious nervous twitches if you tell me about mine.
    "Phyllis," I said, "Do you see this goofy white guy here beside me?"
    "Sure."
    "He's getting married." I handed her a twenty dollar bill, "Would you be so kind as to give him a dance."
    She took his arm and lovingly led him through the curtains. Into the darkness of the netherworld between our plane of reason and the champagne room.
Alone like that, it didn't take the best man too long to find me. He took a seat next to me at the bar.
    "What's up?"
    "Phyllis." I said.
    "Heh?"
    Then I took a good look around. Man, it really was a run down piece of crap strip club. What the Hell was our problem? Why were we here? There were only three girls giving lap dances, no one dancing on the pole. It was vacant. Dusty. Was it broken?
    The three girls consisted of a heavy set Puerto Rican with lots of extra flab to love or hate. Whichever. The white girls, though not crack head tinged, sure had a lot of sad miles clinging to them. Pam and Phyllis.
    Then out came my buddy Matt from behind the curtains with the heavy set Peurto Rican.
    Jack was buying us all shots.
    "That girl's name is Phyllis." Matt said.
    "It's a name, like if we were using a time machine." I said.
    It didn't take long for Jack to disappear in the back with our prize pony, Phyllis and I sent the groom off again into the back with Pam, who had started to look bored at the bar. Matt grabbed the Peurto Rican again, dragged her in the back.
The best man took this opportunity alone with me, "What's the deal with Jack?"
    "What do you mean?"
    I know what he meant.
    So do you.
    "Is he gay?"
    "I don't think so." I said, "Just weird. Eccentric."
    "Oh."
     "He seems gay."
     I shrugged, said, "Doesn't matter."
    I changed the subject.
    Phyllis came back out. She looked blue. It wasn't the lighting.


    "Where are we going?"
    They trailed behind on the sidewalk. We'd been walking for five minutes.
There wasn't a subway to take us to where we needed to go and all of the cabs, god knows, where all the cabs were.
    "hey where are we going?"
    I ignored their calls from the rear. They knew where we were going. This had already been discussed.
    "Yo dude! Does anybody know why we are walking so far?"
They were used to being inside of automobiles. This was freaking them the fuck out.
New York City. Just shy of midnight.
    "How much farther, man, I need a break." it was the fat kid. He hadn’t walked this far, ever, in his whole fucking fat life. It had been about 12 blocks. 12 blocks, motherfucker.
All you could do was ignore their frantic pleas for help until they dissipated. Sore feet. Locking up knees.
    We arrived at the club. There was a long ass line, but we got on it, comforted by the fact that Jack knew one of bartenders inside and all of our wounds would be cured by magic elixirs. Mandy the bartender. we were going to drink for free. Sure. Sure. You believe that?
I didn't. Fuck it.
    Inside the club it was a gigantic bubble of turmoil. It was an utter mess. People slid through walls of people in patterns that collapsed inward on themselves to the disjointed rhythm of mathematical dance pop kick drum death buried under puke inducing synth wails. Put your hands in the air and swing em like you just don't care.
I was trying to make my way to the bar. It was hopeless.
    Matt was off chasing tail. Jack was trying to find this illusion bartender at anyone of the five bars on multiple floors. The groom, his fat buddy...who knows.
Looking back over my shoulder, I realized again that I was alone with the best man. He was haunting me.
    "hey man, let me buy you a drink."
    "alright, go for it."
    He flailed his way through the crowd and came back with two Malibu and cranberries.
    "what the hell is this?"
    "Malibu and cranberry..."
    I tapped a girl to my immediate left on the shoulder and said, "I got you a drink."
    When I came back with my beer, the guy was still here. No shaking him.
    He started into it again.
    "So hey, what's the deal with Jack?"
    I shrugged. Then, I figured, screw it, I didn't feel like going through the whole spiel again, I just cut to the chase. I said, "hey man, do you want me to hook you up with him?"
    "WHAT?"
    "come on, I know what your getting at. It's cool."
    "OH MY GOD!"
    His reaction wasn't what I expected.
    "I'M NOT GAY! WHAT THE HELL WOULD MAKE YOU THINK..."
    "You kidding me? No offense, actually, yeah that's a pretty shallow thing to be offended about."
    Now the guy looked like he was going to throw a punch.
    "hey, pal, you've been sweating this kid all night, I say...just go for it. You like him, just go for it."
    His head looked like it was about to explode. I was just trying to be nice.
And that was that, the best man disappeared into the crowd. That was it. He was gone. Poof. Vanished. Didn't see him again for the rest of the night.
    I was lost in that place for about an hour. Just going from bar to bar on the different floors. Looking for anybody. Matt. Jack. The groom. Any of them. Not a soul in sight. Believe me, the lighting was so bad in there and there was so many people jammed in there, god damn, you could barely find yourself.
    At this point I was drunk, I mean, drunk. It was nice. All of my problems had dissolved.
I figured, I'd just go outside the door, see what was up out there. It sucked inside this club.
Sure enough, out on the sidewalk, there was Matty.
    "There you are!" He said, "I was looking for you!"
    "Hey! I was looking for you too."
    "Jack is over there."
    "where?"
    "across the street at that pizza place down the block."
    "oh, getting a slice?"
    "no, he's passed out at a table by the ATM."
    "oh, nice"
    "where's everybody else?"
    "I think they left."
    "they left?"
    "I think they went back to their hotel."
    I looked at my watch.
    "it's only 3am."
    "I know, weird, right?"
    "fuck, what now?"
    "what do you mean? I'm not done drinking."
    "well, yeah, I hear you."
    He finished his cigarette."Come on."
    We crossed the street. There was Jack. He was laying across a table in front of the pizza place.
    "what the hell."
    "he might be past the point of no return."
    I pulled on Jack's shirt sleeve, since it was Spandex it didn't pull so well.
    "...just leave me."
    "what?"
    "...go on."
    I expected him to say, save yourselves.
    "come on, get up."
    How the hell had he gotten so drunk so quickly? He couldn't even stand up.
    "you found that chick?"
    "I found that chick." he said.
    "the bartender?" Matt said.
    "what bartender?" Jack said.
    "let's get a cab." I said. I went to the curb and stood watch. Matt helped Jack to his feet.
    "you gonna puke."
    "I don't puke."
    It was true. I knew that. He couldn't drink but he also couldn't puke.
    "I need to go home." he said.
    I leaned in and told Matt we were gonna go uptown on the way. Stop at a few more places.
    "couple more beers. You can handle it." I said.
    "home."
    "water." I told Matt. "he will just drink water.
    A cab pulled up and we climbed inside.

    We got out of the cab at 75th street on the upper west side. Jack couldn't really stand on his own. We had to carry him like we were carrying a wounded soldier off the battlefield, his feet dragging.
    I pointed at the neon sign.
    "this is the place, Matt."
    Halfway up the stone steps, Jack just become complete dead weight and we had to set him down.
    "come on man, get up, you can't lay on the steps while we go in the bar."
He said something incoherent.
    I opened up the door.
    "we can't leave him here like that."
    "This place has a fish tank. It has a jukebox. You gotta see this jukebox."
     "Sure. I think Jack is going to choke on his own throw up, is all."
     We looked down at him there. Lifeless. Though he appeared happy to be out. Was that a small smile I detected?
     "If he starts to choke, I'll be right there to pour a beer down his throat to wash the vomit away."
     "You said a jukebox?"
    "we'll be right at the bar, we will have a clear view if the cops show up. That happens we'll spring into action."
    "shit."
    Then, Matt just followed me in and we sat down at the bar. The place was pretty dead, but there was a really great bartender. She was no nonsense. She poured the beer as if she had brewed it herself. Not a drop wasted.
    "those guys really split quick on us."Matt said.
    "yeah.." then I explained to Matt what had happened with the best man. How he had been grilling me about Jack. Matt just laughed. He pointed out that the wedding was going to be awkward now.
    "you think?"
    "probably."
    "I think it will be a good time."
    "Which one of you two are getting married, or are you marrying each other?" The bartender asked.
    "No, our friend getting married, already went home. Nice send off. Guy is drooling on his rented pillow as we speak."
    "What? It's early." She looked at the clock, "It's not even 4, yet."
    "I know, right. Doesn't everybody know that they are gonna die one day?"
    "Oh that!" She said, "People forget."
    "And it annoys them when you remind them."
    "Rust sets in."
     "It's now or never again."
     "Cheers."
     "This one is on me." She said.
    Then, as she dealt our beers, the doorman walks out of the bathroom beside the jukebox. I knew what was coming. I motioned for Matt to drink quick.
It didn't take long, the doorman came right in and said to me and Matt, "Do you know this kid on the steps with the spandex shirt and the cowboy boots?"
    I hesitated. Then said, "Yes, he is a close friend, what about him."
    "if you don't get him off the steps in thirty seconds, I'm gonna call the fucking cops."
    "one more round." I told the bartender.
    She thought that was just about the funniest thing she ever heard.
    It's nice to have a bartender on your side, if even fleetingly.

    We get another cab, find our way the rest of the way uptown. It’s tough getting Jack up the stairs to my apartment, but we manage, you know, as we would manage a dead body if we had to.
    I put him on the couch, but he keeps getting off the couch and laying down on the hardwood floor with no blankets or sheets.
    I’m sitting at my kitchen table shooting the shit with Matt still, we’re still drinking, because there is a lot of shit to shoot on a Saturday night in the spring of your youth.
    “Hey, pal, what’s wrong with the couch?”
    “I like the floor.”
    “You want a blanket, or a pillow or something.”
    “I’m fine, I like the floor.”
    I like Jack. There is nobody like him. I don’t mind taking care of him when he gets out of bounds. When he gets banged up. He would do the same for me. You’ve got to find your own. You’ve got to take care of your own.
    “Enjoy the floor.” Matt says.
    “Thanks.”
    “what the Hell is that?” Matt says.
    “What?”
    “Is that the sun?”
    “Yes, it is the sun. It’s coming up.”
    “You know what that means.”
    “Another beer?”
    “Yes, and eggs.”
    “Ahhhhh, breakfast.”
    “breakfast.”
    “You want toast?” but he didn’t answer.
    “Hey,” he said, “I think I’m in love, you ever have that happen to you?”
    “yes, I have.” I said, “her name is Phyllis.”
    “You better stay away from my girl. Phyllis is all mine.”
    “She’s your’s buddy.”
    “In a perfect world, I would always have bacon in this fridge.”
    “Nothing is that perfect. We have to accept it.”
    “Sure, sure.”
    "We should just go to the corner store and get bacon."
    “I would…”
    “Oh fuck, Cinco De Mayo.”
     "Remember what that girl on the subway said to you?"
     "That I missed my chance." I nodded.
     "Worst thing you'll ever hear in your life."