Eye Ahem Da Guvner; Chapter Seven

 

Chapter 7:

 

 

 

     As the fire he had caused ate through the roof and cinders and black smoke shot skyward, Mange watched as fire truck after fire truck screeched to a halt just outside the driveway. Time to act dumb again, like people expected of a dog. He began to furiously wag his tail and mouthed the stick he found near his feet. He was totally ignored by the firemen running by with hoses.

 

 

 

 

     The damage to the house was major, so Earle Edgar and Jimmy had moved to an expensive hotel that the fire chief had suggested. No pets were allowed, so they left Mange out tied to the bumper of their truck, which was parked in a secluded spot of the parking lot. They’d sneak him in later. When they went to checked in, Earle Edgar and Jimmy had stared at the people in the lobby. Women with expensive jewelery and fine dresses, and men in tuxes sat around the lobby and outside the hotel bar. They looked down at the rags they were still wearing from the commercial shoot. Oh well, there was nothing they could do about it now; all their clothes had been ruined by smoke damage. They would have to pay for this, because Earle Edgar had decided they could do without fire insurance for a little while, so he had cancelled it.

 

     Ya wyn sum, ya luze sum!  he thought, as they approached the registration desk.

 

     “Exgews mi, mayam, weed lyk ta git an ruum,” Earle Edgar said to the woman behind the register.

 

     She took one look at them, noticed their clothes, sniffed, then said, “We don’t serve your kind in this establishment; this hotel’s for paying guests only. Why don’t you try the public park? They’ll probably have a nice bench or two you can use!”

 

     Earle Edgar got pissed. “Wat kynde ov peepal ar yew talkin abowet? Yew meen uss, da kynd ov peeple woo culd bye dis playc?” he shouted.

 

     “Please sir, I’ll have to ask you to keep your voice down!”

 

     Jimmy looked at the reaction of the guests, and saw them staring with undisguised contempt. Up until that moment, he’d been mortified, but now he got angry at the rich b******s, who were looking down their noses at them. So instead of trying to smooth over the situation, he let Earle Edgar continue his ranting.

 

     “Eyea demaaned ta cee da manegor!” he shouted.

 

     “Alright, just keep your voice down!”

 

     “Yeya, Eyll kepe mi voyace dowen, WEN EYE GIT TEW CEE DA FRIKIN MANEGOR!” he screamed.

 

     The woman quickly disappeared into an office behind the counter, and a couple of minutes later, reappeared with a tall, gray-haired gentleman, who approached them and said,

 

     “I’m the manager of this hotel, Sims Golde; I understand you gentlemen wished to see me?”

 

     “Yeya, da waay weev bin treeted is abbasolutaly suked; wee caam inn heer preepaired to payy yer bullsheit feese, an weer treeted lyk wee haav lepricee, oar sumpin!”

 

     “Please sir, keep your voice down; you’ll disturb our guests!”

 

     “OWA, EXCEWS MI AYIS; AWEL WEE WANTID IZ AN RUUM, BUTT YEW CAWAN JUSS FORGIT ITT, EYE GESS BEEIN DA OWENARS OV JIMYJOWAN BRUARY DUZNT COWENT FER SHEIT!”

 

     “Please sir, calm down!”

 

     “AHHHH!”

 

     Suddenly, there came the sound of sirens from outside the hotel. Earle Edgar heard them, and snapped back to reality.

 

     “Oh sheit, Jimy, weev gawt ta git owet ov heer!”

 

     Jimmy quickly said, “Come on, this way!” and took off running down the hall towards the rear exit, followed by a panic-striken Earle Edgar. They reached the exit and burst through it. They slowed so one of them could sneak a peak out into the parking lot. Jimmy snuck a look around the corner.

 

     “Wat dew yew cee?” Earle Edgar asked.

 

     “I can see our truck. I see all the police cars, but there’s no cops visible. Apparentely, they’re all inside, chasing us. Come on, I think we can reach the truck.”

 

     They ran wildly, hair flying, and reached their truck. They quickly untied Mange, and piled inside. Mange sat outside the door and wouldn’t jump in.

 

     “Ciowem onn, ya dyp-sheit dowg, git yer ayis inn da truk!” Earle Edgar screamed.

 

     Still Mange didn’t move. Jimmy turned on the charm.

 

     “Come on Mange; come here boy!”

 

     The dog looked at the beet-red face of Earle Edgar as he reached out to grab his collar and flashed his teeth in an attempt to bite him, then leisurely jumped up on the bench seat next to Jimmy. Earle Edgar swore, apparently unharmed, jumped into the truckup and yelled,

 

     “Flore itt!”

 

     Jimmy lurched the thing forward, before realizing it was better to exit the lot at a slower speed, so they wouldn’t arouse any undue attention.

 

     “Cowem owen; cowem owen!” Earle Edgar yelled with impatience.

 

     “We don’t need to squeal out of here and draw the cops’ attention to us.”

 

     “Yeya, yer probibely rite. Eye juss wawent ta git owet ov heer! An yew, yew dyp-sheit friken mut!” he yelled, looking at Mange. “Ya alimos cawezed uss tew bee cawt.”

 

 

 

 

     They had gone to check in; Mange was left tied to the bumper, once again. He was pissed and looking to get his revenge. He’d show those b******s; especially the one called Earle Edgar. What a slopeheaded moron he was! As he was trying to come up with a good plan, the lot around him was suddenly filled with police cars. Something was happening inside the hotel, because as the police cars skidded to a stop, all the policemen jumped out and ran towards the front door. He was toying with the idea of untying the knot on the rope and trotting up to see what was going on, when from the opposite corner of the building, Earle Edgar and Jimmy came running towards the truck. Now what had the idiots done? Jimmy jumped behind the wheel and Earle Edgar untied his rope and jumped into the passenger’s seat. Mange sat back on his haunches. From the open door, Earle Edgar shouted at him.

 

     Screw that, he thought. You b******s left me out here alone, and then come racing back because you’ve obviously done something moronic again. It would serve you right if you didn’t get away because of me, and he just stayed where he was.

 

     Then Jimmy’s pleading voice called to him.

 

     Maybe he should get in the truck; for Jimmy was asking him politely, not screaming his ignorant face off. As he was thinking this, he saw Earle Edgar reaching for his collar.

 

     Get away from me, you stupid b*****d! he thought, and he tried to sink his teeth into Earle Edgar’s hand. Then he causually jumped up beside Jimmy. There was absolutely no way that the ignorant blowhard named Earle Edgar was touching him!

 

 

 

 

     They had to find someplace to stay. They drove to another nice-looking hotel, and once again left Mange tied to the bumper.

 

     “We’ll come back out after we check in and sneak you in, boy,” said Jimmy.

 

     “Ifn ittwas upp tew mi, weed ty ya too da bumpar an drayg yer werthlis ayis an feew bloweks, ya werthlis mut!” a red-faced Earle Edgar added.

 

     Mange thought to himself, you don’t have a clue I can understand every word you say, you stupid b*****d; I’ll fix you one of these days!  and he thumped his tail hard on the floor, like a dog craving attention.

 

 

 

 

     They walked into the lobby of the hotel, and were standing behind a couple and their 5 children, who were checking in. One of the children was staring at them and his attention was making Earle Edgar nervous.

 

     “Hi, my name is Danny; what’s yours?” he asked.

 

     “Whi donut yew fu---” Earle Edgar started to reply, before Jimmy cut him off.

 

     “Hi Danny; my name is Jimmy, and this guy’s name is John. Is your family staying here?” he asked, and shot a warning look at Earle Edgar.

 

     “Yeah, and I’m 4 and I can count to 50!”

 

     Bieg friken deel!  thought Earle Edgar.

 

     “Oh, aren’t you a big boy!” replied Jimmy.

 

     Before the kid could respond, his mother said, “Come along, children, let’s get up to our rooms,” and the entire family walked towards the elevators. Earle Edgar and Jimmy moved up to the counter.

    

     “Welcome to The Posh Hotel and Spa, I’m Geneva; how may I help you?”

 

     Geneava?  Wat kynd ofa stuupid ayis naam iz dat?  thought Earle Edgar.

 

     “Geneva, that’s a very unusual name,” said Jimmy.

 

     “Yes, my parents named me after the Geneva Convention, because they thought naming me after that would remind people to keep a sense of fair treatment toward their fellow man in their hearts,” said the woman.

 

     “Oh, that’s a very unique idea!” replied Jimmy.

 

     Uneak, mi ayis; yer pairants muss bee an cupal ofe freeks!  thought Earle Edgar.

 

     “Well, Geneva, we need a room.”

 

     “Fine, will that be cash or charge?”

 

     “Cash,” replied Jimmy.

 

 

     They were settled into room 829; and thought now of going to retrieve Mange from the bumper of the truck where the had again left him tied, but Jimmy said,

 

     “Wait a minute; it might be better to wait until darkness so there’s less chance of people noticing.”

 

     Wel thene, letts goe git hym noww thene. Mayebi, hopefuli, sumwone wil cee, an narek , thene weel bee ridd ov da basterd wunce an ferall!  thought Earle Edgar.

 

 

     As evening started to fall, Mange got madder and madder. The jerk-weeds had apparently forgotten him, one more time. He looked across the parking lot to the light streaming through the glass doors of the hotel. He was hungry, chilly, and he’d be damned if he was just going to wait for his 'owners' to come out and untie him whenever it was covenient for them; that’s if they remembered. Bull***t! He angrily untied the knot holding him, and trotted across the parking lot. Once at the door, he looked in, and seeing no clerk at the front desk, pawed open the door and went over to the counter. Now, where to look up which room they were in? As there was no book, it must be stored on the computer. He pawed the mouse over to him, sat on his haunches and stretched his upper body, until he could reach, and punched the keys with his paws. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, as he was unfamiliar with the computer and long out of practice from the days he used to use his first master’s computer. He just started punching keys, hoping something would pop up that would tell him the correct room number. Suddenly there appeared on the screen a couple having sex. Gross! Now if it was a female mixed-breed dog he might be interested, but it was just a couple of humans. He didn’t need to see two people doing The Pretzel Dance, up close; humans were deformed-looking enough as it was. Just as he was thinking this, two women stepped off of the elevator, and headed straight for the check-in desk. Immediately, Mange dropped off of his haunches, and began wiggling his tail furiously. This worked every time; humans were so gullible! Sure as hell, one of the women saw him, and said,

 

     “Where did you come from? You’re sure a cute one!” and she bent down to pet him, while the other woman kept walking towards the desk.

 

     “I’ll check my messages, then I’ll take over for yo---ahh; what the hell is this?”

 

     “What?” asked the woman who had been petting him.

 

     “This disgusting tape of you and the handyman doing the big nasty!”

 

     The one who’d been petting Mange rushed over and quickly pushed several buttons, until the offending image was gone from the screen. “I can explain; that was a private tape no one was suppposed to see; from the Christmas party. I thought I’d deleted it. Dewey and I had each had too much to drink, and you see the end result.”

 

     “All I see are your ends!”

 

     “We both agreed that it was a drunken mistake and will never be repeated!”

 

     “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t Dewey the guy who you said looked like a slow-witted reptile?”

 

 

     After listening up to that point, Mange slipped away and went back out the the truck, as twilight fell; and retied the rope. That little idea hadn’t worked, and he’d seen something that he really would have rather not; he’d better just wait here.

 

 

     Darkness had fallen at last, and Jimmy was on his way out to the truck to sneak Mange up to their room. Earle Edgar had gone to the hotel lounge for some adult refreshments. As he approached the truck, Jimmy called out,

 

     “Wanna go up to the room, Mange?”

 

     The dog got very excited and lunged against the rope holding him, as this was what humans wanted to see.

 

     “Easy, boy!” Jimmy said, and petted the dog while he untied the rope.

 

     Then they walked carefully to the front window of the lobby and Jimmy peered in. The coast appeared to be clear, so he grabbed Mange’s collar and told the dog, not really thinking the dog could understand him,

 

     “Now Mange, you need to be quiet; you’re not supposed to be in here, and we’ll get kicked out if anyone sees you!”

 

     I’ll be quiet as a mouse, thought Mange, but he put on his best dumb animal look like he didn’t understand.

 

     “We’re going up the elevator. I’ll just pretend I’m blind, and you’re my guide dog,” Jimmy said to himself; and he donned a cheap pair of sunglasses and unfolded a white cane he’d purchased especially for this moment.

 

     Oh, that’ll work! Mange thought. The elevator came to the lobby, and the doors slid open; it was empty.

 

     “On you go boy!” Jimmy said.

 

     Well, no s**t!  thought Mange.

 

     Mange scrambled onto the elevator right behind Jimmy, and it started it’s ascent to the 8th floor, only it stopped on the 2nd floor, the doors slid open, and a guy wearing a hotel uniform got on.

 

     “Hello, I’m Dewey, the hotel’s maintainance man.”

 

     The star performer in the video; man, he looks like a six-foot tall squid, thought Mange.

 

     “Hi, I’m blind; my name is Lance Devlin, and this here is my guidog, Roughy.”

 

     Roughy?  Mange looked at his thin, scraggly body.  Way to think under pressure there Ace!

 

     “Nice to meet you Lance,” replied Dewey, and he pushed the down button, as the hotel lobby was actually on the street level, and the hotel went below ground. The rooms below ground had a discount due to lack of a view.

 

     “Oh, we’re going up, so it might be awhile,” Jimmy said.

 

     “Lance, I thought you said you were blind?  How did you know I pressed the floor number 1 button?”

 

     Ooops! “Ah, it just sounded like the down button.”

 

     What kind of a dip-s**t explanation is that?  Mange thought.

 

     Dewey gave him a skeptical look, and replied, “Oh yeah?”

 

     “Yeah, we blind people develop other keen senses to compansate.”

 

     Yeah, like your sense of exactly what to say when telling a lie, thought Mange.

 

     “Oh, sure,” answered Dewey.

 

     Then the bell rang and the elevator stopped on the 7th floor and a woman got on. Jimmy saw his chance to allay Dewey’s suspicions, so he said,

 

     “Well, nice to meet you, Dewey,” and he grabbed Mange by the collar and started out of the car.

 

     “Wait a minute; this is only the 7th floor.”

 

     “Oh, thank you!” and they got back in the elevator.

 

 

 

 

     They arrived outside the door to 829, and Jimmy reached into his pocket for the key card; it wasn’t there. “Great; I must have left it in my other pants when I changed clothes this afternoon. Well, I guess we better hope that Earle Edgar brought his key with him down to the bar. Come on, Mange,”

 

     Crapola; now I have to see the moron, thought Mange, and they headed back to the elevator.

 

 

     They weren’t inturrupted on the trip back down to the lobby and when the doors opened and they looked out and saw a woman behind the desk. She was watching them.

 

     “Okay boy, it’s time to play blind again!” Jimmy whispered, more to himself than the dog.

 

     Mange thought he’d have a little fun at Jimmy’s expense. With the desk clerk watching, he set out for the bar. In the center of the lobby was a fake potted palm tree, and Mange headed straight for it. When he was only steps from colliding with it, Jimmy hissed,

 

     “Where the hell are you going? Watch out!”

 

     Mange acted like he didn’t understand, and walked close to it, causing Jimmy to walk right through the upper branches. The palm tree pivoted and started to topple. Jimmy had no choice but to reach out and steady it, to keep it from falling. The woman behind the desk shouted,

 

     “Watch out for the tree!”

 

     What is this, “George of the Jungle?  Mange thought. He used to watch a lot of T.V. while his former master was at work, and among the shows he watched were cartoons.

 

     “Ah, were taking part in a new program; they use almost-blind guide dogs. That way, not only is it a help to me, it rescues a handicapped dog.”

 

     “Oh,” answered the disbelieving desk clerk.

 

     Huh? Mange smiled to himself; this was hilarious!

 

     “Come on Roughy”, Jimmy said, and he started tapping the cane.

 

     Across the rest of the lobby they went after Jimmy asked, “Ah Miss, which way to the bar?”

 

     “Straight ahead of you and a little to your right,” she replied.

 

     “Thank you kindly,” and he could see the door to the lounge perfectly well, but had to make it seem like he was blind. He tapped, then strode ahead, right into the wall.

 

     You’re overdoing it a bit, thought Mange.

 

     At last he grasped the handle, and pulling Mange behind him, rather roughly Mange thought, they entered the dark interior of the bar. Because of the dark glasses, Jimmy slammed into the nearest table, sending the drinks of the couple sitting there flying.

     “Hey, why don’t you watch wher---oh, sorry!” the man said when he realized Jimmy was blind; or at least he thought Jimmy was blind.

 

 

     Earle Edgar had heard the commotion and knew of Jimmy’s plan to pretend he was blind so he could sneak Mange into their room. “Wi, ifit isent mi owld blined frend, awa, awa...”

 

     “Lance Devlin,” whispered Jimmy.

 

     “Owa, ofcorse, Layants Deylan; Eye haavnt ceen yew inn, howw lons itt bin?”

 

     “Say years!” Jimmy whispered out the corner of his mouth.

 

     “Owa, yeya, alott ov yeers. Sew, howwev yew bin? Howws da neww oculer implayents werken owet?”

 

     Gee, could you think of a more suspicious-sounding question?  thought Mange.

 

     “Owa, Eye cee yew browet Slobarkyeng wid ya. Howw ar yew, Slobarkyeng?"

 

     Slobberking?  What a fricking moron!  Mange then thought.

 

     “I have recently changed dogs. Slobberking regained his sight and doesn’t need my help any longer. This is my new almost-blind guide dog, Roughy.”

 

     Earle Edgar looked at Mange, with his painfully-thin look, and rolled his eyes. “Niyas ta meet yew, Rufy!” and he reached down to pet him.

 

     Mange bite him on the hand; he didn’t stop to think they were trying to avoid drawing any attention to themselves.

 

     “Wi yew little�"cuwet dowg, yew!” Earle Edgar caught himself just in time from saying something stupid. “Wel, siyat dowen, an lett mi intaduse ya tew mi newpaales. Evuriwon, Eyed lyk to praesent mi frend Layants; Layants, dis iz, awe, awe...” He was gazing at a guy who had the weasle-like look of a leach. “Eyem sory, Eyeva firgoten yer nayam!”

 

     “The names Fred Hatchet; pleased to meet you,” and he shook hands with Jimmy. His shake felt like a wet, clammy sock, and Jimmy withdrew his hand quickly.

 

     “Nexed, wee haav, awe, awe...”

 

     “Max Tick.”

 

     “Owa, dats rite, Maxx Tiyek. “Ayan, acros da tabel is, awe, awe...”

 

     “Gary Blood.”

 

     Gary Bloodsucker, you mean!, for he had that look. Jimmy shook his hand and felt a rush of awkwardness.

 

     “And who’s the dog?” asked Tick.

 

     “Owa, Eye almowest firgot, dis is, awe, awe...”

 

     Oh, for Christ’s sake; have another beer, there, Earle Edgar! “This is Roughy,” Jimmy quickly added.

 

     “Hey Roughy, how ya doing?” and Tick reached down to pet the dog.

 

     Get your fricking hands off me, thought Mange, and he snarled and snapped at him.

 

     The guy quickly pulled his hand away and exclaimed, “Whoa, this mutt is phyco!”

 

     “Mang�"err---Roughy!” shouted Jimmy.

 

     “Dat mutt us suked; Eye howap Eye wil bee abal ta nott git pised att hym an kiyek hiys furi lital ase!” said Earle Edgar.

 

     Bring it on!  Mange thought.

 

     Earle Edgar then announced, “Dese fyn gentalmen wer juss telin mi how ta git mi fowet inn da dor an startin mi owen biznus.”

 

     Jimmy scratched his head and replied, “Why, we don’t need the money?”

 

     “Beecuz Eyema giten board. Dis beein riyatch sheit ainet awl itts kraked upp tew bee.”

 

     “Well, what kind of business are we talking?"

 

     “Noe, thay ar talken; weer juss listnin!”

 

     “Okay, what kind of business are they talking?”

 

     The man called Fred Hatchet answered, “Why, it’s a business that places products directly in the hands of the consumer.”

 

     “Oh, you mean a sales job?”  A snow job would be more accurate, thought Jimmy.

 

     “We prefer the term, “Product Facilitator”!”

 

     You’re not sucking me in with your line of bull***t', he thought and then replied, “I don’t think it’s for me.”

 

     Hatchet got a look of disgust on his face and replied, “Oh, I’m sorry I’m keeping you from something else more important, like having a s***-load of beer! I’m glad your friend here is smart enough to see a great opportunity to become rich without doing any hard work!”

 

     See, smart isn’t the first word that comes to mind when I think of Earle Edgar! thought Jimmy. “You can eat it; and you can count me out!” Jimmy responded.

 

     “Layants, apoligyes ta da mann! Hees owely trine ta bee niyas, an shar hys nowlige wid uss.”

 

     “And what knowlege would that be, finding a couple of morons to fall for his pyramid scheme bull***t? How much of the money we collect from sales do you get, Hatchet?”

 

     “Only a small 65 percent, but after you bring more people in to---hey, what the hell am I defending the company to the likes of you for?”

 

     “I have no idea; I only came in with Roughy to get the hotel room key from John here.”

 

     “Hera, heers da friken key, noww git loest!”

 

     Jimmy snatched the room key from Earle Edgar’s hand, saying, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll just walk away from this now. It’s just a pyramid scheme!”

 

     “Eyea donut caraa wat it looweks lik, a*s loweng as itt rayaks inn da doe; it kan bee shayept liik an 30-ft. talwl poyanty deel fer awl Eye kare; a*s loweng a*s da bich poynts da wayy tew a hole bunetch ov muny inn itt fer mi!”

 

     “I’m just trying to warn you; you’ll be sorry!”

 

     “Da owenli ting Eyema goen ta bee sory fer iz yer tew friken stoopid ta tri itt. Ya kno wat Eye tink?”

 

     “I really don’t care what you think; or if you even if you think!”

 

     “Owa, Eye tink alriet, Eyea juss donut tink tew mutch ov yew rite noww!”

 

     “Oh, that really pisses me off!” Jimmy answered sarcastically.

 

     “Wel, dats tew friken baad!”

 

     “What happened to our friendship?”

 

     “Eyll tel ya wat hapined; yew turend ta sheit, dats wat hapined!”

 

     “Well, I guess we ought to split eveything 50/50 and I’ll move out.”

 

     “Yeya, dat wood bee da bess ting to do, awlrite!”

 

 

 

     Jimmy had puchased a condo after they had moved into the different hotel, and had bought another truck; and he and Mange where settling in. Now he was planning for a return to his passion, stand-up comedy. He already had worked out his routine, and tonight was the night. In a way, breaking with Earle Edgar was the kick in the pants he had needed to make him turn back to the one thing he loved, and had somehow gotten away from. He’d come to rely on Earle Edgar entirely too much, and he realized that he was not a man one should rely on. He’d made the rounds of comedy clubs in the Seattle area, and at The Guffaw Hut he’d been hired. The owner, Andy Mayberry, had looked him up and down rather quickly, and said,

 

     “Well, as long as you’re upright and mobile; I need someone to go on after the headliner, until closing, to try to keep the customers awake long enough to keep ordering drinks. I know it’s not the usual way, but I’m tired of losing most of my business around midnight because the headliner’s done with their set. So I thought I’d give this a go.”

 

     Why not have the headliner start later?  thought Jimmy, but he wasn’t going to say something to change the guy’s mind.

 

 

     Jimmy had almost forgotten how nervous he became right before going on. If he didn’t stop sweating, he was liable to arc-weld himself to the floor because he’d short out the damn microphone! The headliner had done alright, but he knew that he was funnier. He had purposely stayed backstage, so as not to be intimidated by the size of the crowd. It sounded like the place was packed. Then he heard,

 

     “Lady and gentlemen, please give this next comedian a rousing Seattle welcome because he’s fairly new to the area, and let him know the Puget Sound area is a wonderful place to live, Jimmy Reno! And remember, during the show, and for the rest of the night, all drinks are half-price; that’s right, half-price; I know it’s illegal, but I won’t tell if you won’t!  Speaking of telling, Jimmy Reno wants to tell you some jokes, so hear he is!”

 

     Jimmy would be damned if he’d user an alias. When he went over big, he wanted everyone to know his real name! He walked out on stage, and immediately, the overwhelming sense of panic returned to fog his brain. He had felt he was ready to go on, but suddenly that seemed a long time ago. Most of the crowd had left, and the only ones still here were the hardcore drinkers; mostly men, but one woman too. He counted 15 people total. Not one of them had clapped.

 

     “Ah, good evening. Speaking of good evenings; let me tell you how mine went the other night. I was sitting in a bar drinking, much the same as you are now, an...”

 

     Someone in the crowd yelled, “You mean, watching a goof making an oral as** out of himself?”

 

     Jimmy was thrown for a loop. Heckling, already? “and, and...” His mind went blank and he just had to get out of there! Without another word he ran to the exit and staggered out into the street. Behind him, through the still-open door, he heard,

 

     “Andy, where did you dig up that guy, at a graveyard for loser dorks? Ah, ha, ha!”

 

     With the bar patrons’ laughter seeming to only grow louder in his head, Jimmy staggered his way home. From open doors of restaurants and taverns he heard laughter that seemed to be mocking him.

 

     “Ah, ha, ha, what a loser; eh, ha, ha!”

 

     He knew the laughter was not directed at him, but it sure felt like it. Well, that was the last time he’d open himelf up for that kind of abuse. Who wanted to be personally ridiculed? Something obviously happened to him when he stepped onto the stage. He was funny around the house (or so he’d been told), but under the glare of the spotlight, he choked big-time!

 

 

 

     Mange was content at last. He’d gotten away from that absolute idiot named Earle Edgar Knekk!

 

 

 

     Earle Edgar Nekk sat listening to how easy it had been for these men to become rich; these products practically sold themselves, according to these wealthy people. They all told him how easily they’d gotten rich, without trying. He looked around at the individual speakers, and they seemed so ordinary.  He thought, Eyema wel ubove ordenery. Juss tink, ifn dees gies kan mayak itt, beein ordenerry lyk day ar, den juss tink wat an gie lyk mee wil dew!

 

     “...anyway, so that’s all there is to it., one of the multi-millionaires finished saying. Never before had a group of sucessfull rich people been willing to share their tips on creating wealth with him. This must be one fantastic company to work for!

 

 

 

     “How many products do you carry?” said his very first customer that he was going to try and sell to.

 

     “No, maym, Eye donut kary aniting, sumoen elys dowes da karien, Eye juss ssel da shei�"err�"produkd.”

 

     The woman got a funny look on her face, and then said, “Well, I have been thinking about switching laundry detergent; do you have any laundry soap?”

 

     “Yaya, kin Eyea entar yer howem sew yu kan chek iyat owet?”

 

 

 

     “Maym, juss tayak an luk-cee at ar wondarfull lawendry soep.”

 

     She had invited him in, and she had loaded up her washer with a load of dirty clothes. As they stood beside he machine, he was telling her about the laundry soap.

 

     “Maym, dis shei�"err�"soep gits owet ani kynd ov stayn. Itt wil kiyak da liven shei--err--itt wil remuve grayie stanes; bluud stanes an ani kynd of bodely flued yew kan tink ov; assfawlt; glew; and juss ubowet ani udder suebstans nown ta mann!”

 

     “How much does it sell for?”

 

     “Dis miorracal produkt sels fer forer thowsan nineti fiyav dolers pur towen.” Actually, it only sold for $2,099.95 per ton, but he thought he’d inflate the qouted price, and pocket the difference. He might as well earn some extra cash by using his superior intellect!

 

     “Per ton?” replied the woman. “What am I going to do with a ton of laundry soap?”

 

     “Wel, yew gotta reeliys yewl nevar haav ta bye lawndry soep, evar agin; awl ya neyad iz an playc ta dumpe da shei�"err�"soep. Eye nowtised an karporte owetsyde. Maybee yew culd cleer an spayas owet inn da karporte, an ar delivary truk culd dumpe da soep undar dare.”

 

     “But then what about my car?”

 

     “Sory, laydee, Eyema nott an macanik, Eyema saylsmann!”

 

     “No, where would I park my car if my carport’s full of soap?”

 

     “Wel, wee awlsew offar mani udder produks yew kan bye. Ifn ya dyd, yew wuldnt neyad an kar, beecawes yewd all redy haav evariting yew mite neyad all redy, sew dared bee noe neyad ta goe two da stor!”

 

     “Well, I certainly don’t need a ton. Isn’t there a smaller amount a person can buy?”

 

     Sum ov an bich, he thought. “Yeya, dares an boex, butt dat wont giv ya da beste prycw. Eyea suphose ya culd goe dat rowet ifn yew donut mynd beein caled “stoopid” bye yer frens.” Dare goes mi profet!

 

     “I don’t need to sit here and be insulted by the likes of you!”

 

     “Pleez esept mi dumbel epolegees; awl Eye wood lyk fer yew ta dew iz ta tri ar produkt.”

 

     “Well, I do intend to switch, so okay, I’ll agree to a demonstration.”

 

     “Noe, juss cee howa wel ar soep werks.”

 

     “That’s what I meant. I’ll agree to see how well your soap works.”

 

 

 

     The woman had a load of clothes all ready to go; and Earle Edgar put in a scoop of Soil King Laundry Soap. Soil King was one brand name used by The Product Placement Corporation. He had to admit it didn’t look like any soap he’d ever seen, but then he didn’t have much experience washing clothes, at least with soap. He watched as the lady shut the lid and started the machine.

 

     “Eyel leeve yew alowen heer untel da lode iz dun washen; ubowet howw longe shud dat tayak?”

 

     “Oh, I‘d say roughly 45 minutes, give or take a few.”

 

     “Awa feew wat?”

 

     “A few minutes; give or take a few minutes.”

 

     “Awel ritey then, Eyel cowem bak inn ubout forety-fiiv minuets.”

 

 

     45 minutes had passed, but Earle Edgar failed to note the time. He was too engrossed in the pulltabs he was playing at The Crock Walk Tavern. He only had $20 to start with, and that was exactly how much he had spent on the glasses of beer, and some pulltabs; the glasses of beer now sat empty and formed a sad rectangle on the table before him. He was getting a little desperate for one of the pulltabs to pay off.

 

     Cowem owen, bee an winor, he thought, as he peeled back the paper to find out.

 

     “Sheit!” he yelled out loud, for it was yet-another loser. His plan wasn’t working out the way he’d hoped. He knew he couldn’t afford to gamble and drink away all his money, but he hadn’t planned to lose; he had planned on winning. He grabbed his last pulltab.

 

     He thought, cowem onn, yew muthar-fu---he’d won; the damn thing was a winner! He threw it down the table, where it landed it an ashtray. Immediately, it burst into flames. He’d just grabbed an ashtray off of the table next door, to toss away his chewing gum, and apparently, someone hadn’t stubbed out their cigarette well enough, and now his winning ticket worth $100 bucks was going up in flames.

 

     Noe, noe, he thought, then yelled aloud,

 

     “Stowep burnen, yew basterd!” and desperately grabbed for the flaming ticket. He dropped it on the tablecloth, where a burn mark began to appear, before he grabbed a glass of water and doused the flames. He snatched up the ticket, and tried to read it. He could just make out the two aces, but where the third had been was burned away. He grabbed the ticket from the surrounding pool of water, and went to the bartender.

 

     “Ya wowent beeleve dis, butt dis wuz an winnen tiket werth won hunrid dollers!”

 

     “You’re right, I don’t believe you.”

 

     “Owa, dis iz suked!”

 

     “Tough luck, dude; I don’t know what to tell you. I can’t pay out on a pulltab that looks like that. While you’re here, can I get you another beer?”

 

     Earle Edgar turned his pockets inside out, hoping to find a couple of bucks that he’d overlooked, but he had nothing. “Noe, Eye gess Eye donut haav ani muny. Eye donut supowes ya cud flowet mi sum credet?”

 

     “I’m afraid not. Its cash on the barrel head only, I’m afraid.”

 

     “Sm ov an bich!"

 

 

     Jimmy was extremely bored, but not so bored that he’d search out a new career path; he was rich! Since he and Earle Edgar had decided to go their separate ways, he could finally see what other people saw; Earle Edgar was a moron leach. Even Mange seemed glad to be rid of him.

 

 

 

     Mange lay on the carpet and lazily stretched. He was warm, fed, and most exciting of all, things where a lot quieter, not to mention, more relaxed, since the two-legged moron had left them on their own.

 

 

 

     The skies opened up, and the rain fell in sheets; Earle Edgar was trying to walk home from The Crock Walk Tavern. He had eagerly returned to the home of the customer who was trying Soil King laundry soap, but had been told by the woman that she had decided to stay with her current brand. He had dejectedly thanked her and felt the darkness of cold, black dispair wash over him.

 

     Thanx fer shiet, ya stoop ididiet wowmen!  he thought. It seemed like there was a damn curse upon him; The Curse of Redd Nekk! He felt so tired; so alone. He had tried to talk himself into believing he was better off without Jimmy; that now he was free to do whatever he wanted; but the truth was, he missed his friend.

 

 

 

 

     Jimmy wondered if he was merely stupid, or crazy? Lately, he had been missing the company of Earle Edgar! His hand hestated before picking up the phone; what in the hell was he thinking? But then, almost on autopilot, he was dialing up Earle Edgar’s number that he’d gotten out of the phone book. He must be nuts.

 

     “Helo?” answered that moronic voice that Jimmy both loved, and hated!

 

     “Hi, Earle Edgar.”

 

     “Ifn dis iz a sayalsmann trine ta sel mi sumpen, eet sheit, ya friken leyatch!”

 

     “No, Earle Edgar, It’s me, Jimmy!”

 

     There was no reply; just a stunned silence, which Jimmy took to signal hostility.

 

     “Oh, you’re still mad; I shouldn’t have called.”

 

     “Noe, Eyma sory; itts juss dat yew serprised mi. Sew howw ar yew?”

 

     “I don’t know how you feel, but I miss hanging out with you.”

 

     Earle Edgar felt extremely glad, “Yeya, Eye kno howw yew feal; Eye feal da saam.”

 

     “Oh, great.”

 

     “Yeya kno, maybee wee maad an mistak. Eyeva dun alott ov sole-serchen, an Eye kant evun amembor wat wee wuz fighten ubowet.”

 

     We were fighting on account of you being so fricking dumb!  thought Jimmy. “Yeah, I can’t remember why either.”

 

     “Wel, maybee yew shud moov bak inn heer, noww dat da playas hayas bin fiyaxd.”

 

 

 

 

 

     When Jimmy had told him the news, Mange got totally bummed out; he’d been so happy to get away from Mr. Idiot; he’d been sky-high; now, as sky-high as he’d been, he came plummeting back to earth equally as fast. He hated to go back to the House of Lunacy. He’d been careful to act like he didn’t understand, and it took all of his acting skills to not show his bitter disappointment.

 

 

 

 

     When Jimmy had shown up at his door, Earle Edgar had greeted him with a smile; a smile that quickly faded as he saw Mange taking a dump in the front yard.

 

     “Heya, goe inta sumwon elsis yared ta dew dat!”

 

 

 

 

     Mange saw Jimmy ring the doorbell, and as they waited for Idiot Man to answer his door, he had to go to the bathroom. He went out in the yard, and started to go, then he saw Earle Edgar answer the door.  This is in honor of you, he thought, and looking directly into Earle Edgar’s face, strained even harder.

 

     Earle Edgar had yelled at him.

 

     No, it’s all for you!

 

 

     Jimmy and Mange were moved back in. Jimmy was all smiles, but Mange was acting strangely. He just lay next to his food, not eating, with his head turned resting on his paws, facing away from where Jimmy and Earle Edgar sat.

 

     “What’s wrong Mange?” Jimmy asked.

 

     Mange thought, what’s wrong is the baindead lump of crap sitting next to you; can you honestly tell me that when you gaze at him, don’t you feel like spewing your cookies?

 

 

 

 

     Earle Edgar sat watching Mange and his mind raced with possible ways to lose the damn dog. Then he had it: as soon as they were alone for the day, he’d load up the dog and drop him off in the middle of nowhere. Problem solved!

 

 

 

 

     At long last, Jimmy was leaving for the day. Earle Edgar had started to wonder if he’d ever leave.

 

     “So long, Earle Edgar; I’ll probably be gone until dark; I’ve got several stores to go to.” He was super-bored just sitting around the house all day.

 

     “Yeya, gudbye.”

 

     “If I find something that I think you’d like, I’ll buy it for you.”

 

     “Tanks, gudbye.”

 

 

 

 

     After the door shut behind Jimmy, Earle Edgar pulled the leash out of the closet and slowly advanced towards Mange, saying softly, “Cowem heer, boyy, weer goen fer an littal ryde!”

 

     Mange watched with seeming indifference as Earle Edgar shuffled his way towards him. The outward show of indifference was decieving. There was no way that complete moron was getting a leash anywhere close to him! As Earle Edgar started to get closer, Mange flew to his feet and pivoted deftly to a place out of range; then he lay back down.

 

     “Whi yew littal pekar!” Earle Edgar hissed, and then ran towards the spot where Mange now lay. Once again, Mange let Earle Edgar almost get to where he could just about reach him, and then bounded away.

 

     “Sum ov an bich; cowem heere, afour Eye git reeli pised!”

 

     And before this point, you were what, a real barrel of laughs?  Mange thought.

 

     As he lay back down, he kept a wary eye on Earle Edgar. By this time, Earle Edgar was so getting so mad, he had lost all reason. This fricken dog was keeping him from any sales.

 

     Ya kant sel ani sheit ifa yewr stuk chasen yewr friken but-uglie mut urowned yer hole friken howes!  he thought. “Awl rite, noe moor mistar niyas gui,” he said, and grabbed up a hardcover book on his way over to where Mange now lay. He figured to use the book to brain Mange, and teach him a lesson about obeying.

 

     “Nowa, staa rite dare!” he shouted, as he closed in on Mange. Just as he was reaching out to slip the leach around his neck, Mange scampered away.

 

     “Pis owen yew, doweg!” he screamed, and let fly with the heavy hardcover book. The book arced through the air, towards the wall which was right next to the small glass table which served as a coffee table in front of the television. It smashed into the wall, jarring loose a heavy glass figure from a shelf. In turn it fell towards the glass top of the table. The glass statue struck the table, shattering it with a loud 'crash!'

 

     “Sheit,” wailed Earle Edgar. “Noe yer goen ta git itt!”

 

     With a scream born of desperation and rage, he grabbed a big metal hole-punch he was using to file imporant Product Placement Corporation documents, at least what they told him were important documents, and threw it at Mange. Mange easily sidestepped the tossed object, which sailed by his head and scored a direct hit right in the middle of the 52 inch television monitor. Instantly, the picture tube exploded, sending deadly shards of glass rocketing across the room. Earle Edgar was luckily facing towards floor on his follow through, so the flying missles went right over his head, where they imbedded themselves in the wall. Earle Edgar surveyed the mess left in the living room, and went berserk!

 

     “Yew, ya rowdant,” he screamed at the dog, “juss wayt unatil Eye git mi handes owen yew!” and came charging across the room at Mange.

 

 

 

     Mange saw the mess the flying hole-punch had caused and couldn’t believe it; there was a big jagged hole in what used to be the television; what used to be the top of the coffee table was now strewn every which way in a glittering heap of clear glass, and Earle Edgar was coming towards him, with the terrible eyes of a moron out for retribution. As much as he hated him, he hadn’t meant to piss Earle Edgar off so much. Now he was trapped. He tried to decide which way to run, when Earle Edgar decided for him. Earle Edgar had picked up the metal paperweight holding assorted papers down on the small table next to the couch, and stomped towards the big picture-window.

 

     Eyel showa dat friken doweg wat reel pane iz! he thought.

 

 

 

 

     He know had Mange herded into a corner where there was no way out. Mange was frantically looking for any avenue of escape.

 

     Haw, dare iz nun, Earle Edgar thought. Suddenly, Mange took off in an effort to get by him. Earle Edgar knew he had to act quickly, so without thinking, he zeroed in on Mange’s little eyes and launched the paperweight towards him. Mange, just before the paperweight struck him, ducked behind a chair off to the left of the window. At the same exact moment he threw the paperweight, Earle Edgar screamed,

 

     “Evea gowet yew!” but he watched with incredulous eyes as the heavy metal paperweight clipped the top of the couch sitting next to the chair, which redirected the paperwweight; and the thing sailed right through the window, which promptly exploded fragments of glass outward into the grass.

 

     “Yew sum ov an bich! yelled Earle Edgar.

 

 

 

 

     The house now looked like a war zone, with glass everywhere. Just at that moment, Jimmy came through the front door.

 

     “I thought I might as well eat lunch at h---holy sh***, look at this place! What the hell happened?” he asked.

 

     “Da friken doweg, dat’s what happened!” replied Earle Edgar.

 

 

 

 

     Mange’s heart was hammering in his chest with the sudden shock of Earle Edgar’s attack. He had just missed being beaned with a couple of pounds; don’t say 'pound', he reminded himself; of heavy metal. Thank goodness Jimmy had come home unexpectedly; who could say what Earle Edgar would have done next.

 

 

     “What do you mean the dog happened?” asked Jimmy.

 

     “Wel, Eyea wuz juss trine ta taak hym fer an walek, an luk wat hee mayad mi dew!” Earle Edgar replied.

 

     Lying sack, Mange thought.

 

     “Yeah, I’m sure Mange blew out all this glass!” Jimmy then said.

 

     “Owekay, owekay, sew Eye loss mi tempur alittle; da botum lyne tho iz, ifn dat dam doweg hayad obayid mi inn da firs playc, ensted ov runnen awl ovar hel, awl dis mes woodov nevur hapined.”

 

     “Well, Earle Edgar, you’re just going to have to deal with Mange; I’m not getting rid of him.”

 

     Sum ov an bich, thought Earle Edgar.

 

     Ah, ha, too bad for you, thought Mange.  We’ll just see who wins this battle!

 

 

 

 

     Weeks had gone by, and Earle Edgar had failed to make a single sale. He was getting pissed!

 

     Wat da hels da deel? he thought to himself. He didn’t need the money, it was a pride issue. The stuff just wasn’t selling. He was getting a ration of s***t from the higher-ups of The Product Placement Corporation; who were pressing him to make a sale. If they didn’t watch what they were saying, he’d place an order for a bunch of product, and skip town and sell it himself. The more he thought about it, the better the idea sounded.

 

 

     He’d made up his mind; the hell with The Product Placement Corporation, he was going to do it!

 

 

 

     5,000 car stereos had been loaded into a trailer and now sat parked outside the house. It was no longer their house, because Earle Edgar had sold it; lock, stock, and barrel, to a slum-lord, who was going to rent it out; and then purchase another house and do the exact same thing. Jimmy wished he had signed the title, instead of just Earle Edgar. As the bleeding-heart liberal he was, he had been mad when Earle Edgar had told him of the sale, and his plans, saying,

 

     “You did what? I don’t want to move, and even if I did, if we sell to this guy, what happens to the propert values of the neighborhood?”

 

     Earle Edgar had replied,“Wat da hel dew Eye kare? Eye reeli donut kare wat hapins tew da nayborhood aftar wee leeve. Eyema getten restliss ta muuv owen.”

 

     Jimmy then asked, “I still don’t understand about the semi truck. What’s the deal with it?”

 

     “Lyk Eyea allredi sussplaned tew ya; dis iz an sheepmint ov kar sterios dat haav dat Eyeva aledi sowled, an Eyea toeld Da Producket Placimint Coreperaton Eye wood driiv dem tew da perchayeser, an Eyema goen ta mayak an helthy bitt ov chayange bye doen dis.”

 

     He’d kept Jimmy out of the loop; the less people who knew the truth, the better.

 

     “Okay, it still seems a bit odd; but shall we saddle up now?” asked Jimmy.

 

     “Wat, weer nott taken hoarses!”

 

     “It’s just a figure of speech; I merely meant shall we get in our vehicles and go?”

 

     “Owa, yeya.”

 

 

 

 

     Earle Edgar was driving the semi-trailer full of car stereos on Interstate 90 as he neared the summit of Snoqualmie Pass. He was taking it extemely cautiously; both because it was snowing hard, and he was not trained in how to drive an 18-wheeler. He heard the grinding of gears as he tried to downshift. The truck was slowing down rapidly, and from behind him came the impatient blast of a horn. He stuck his arm out of the window and angrily flipped whoever had honked the bird.

 

     “Eyet sheit, ya sum ov an bich!” he screamed out the window.

 

     Then the truck came to a complete stop and he had to quickly engage the emergency brake to keep it from rolling back down the hill. Immediately, honks from several cars behind him sounded.

 

     “Yeya, yeya, keyp yer paynts ziped!” he shouted.

 

     A car pulled out from behind his truck and went screaming by, and as the car drove past his window, the driver waved him the bird; which he immediately returned. One by one, the cars stopped behind him zoomed past in the neighboring lane, some honking their horn, and some giving him the old one-finger salute. In each case, the driver who’d pulled out to pass the stalled truck saw the balding, out-of-shape driver, literally red in the face, screaming,

 

     “Skrew yall!”

 

 

 

     Jimmy pulled up in his truck, rolled down the window, and asked, “What seems to be the problem?”

 

     Earle Edgar snapped in response, “Wooevar desind dis bich musta bin hamared att werk, cawse dis morfidiet sum ov an bich iz won suked peec of excramint!”

 

     “You told me that you had lots of experiance driving semis.”

 

     “Eye dew, but nun hayd awl dees friken geers!” he lied. Then he added, “Ifn yer thru rypen mi an neww won, dew yew mynd ifn Eyea puel dis bich owet ov da wayy?”

 

     “No; go ahead.”

 

 

 

 

 

     Earle Edgar stomped back to his door and saw several cars zoom by, some with high school kids’ faces plastered to the windows. This enraged him all over again, and he grabbed his crotch, shouting,

 

     “Kydes, yer moma caweled an waunts mee ta giiv yew an mesage!”

 

     He jumped back into the cab and watched Jimmy pull his truck back out on the interstate, and accelerate away. Then he sat there thinking of what he had to do, and in what order they needed to be done.

 

     “Owekay, firss deepres da cluch; den puwat inn geer, den reelees da brayak, den---whoely sheee---” he screamed, as the truck rapildly rolled backwards downhill, shot across all lanes of traffic, went down the embankment, crossed all lanes going in the opposite direction, somehow missed all vehicles, and sailed off into the void.