Change of Command

Cohen has had enough of David's monotonous lifestyle. It's time to change it up.

The Exchange

    Some things are hard to remember. Other things are impossible to forget. My name is Cohen, and that pathetic excuse of a human being occupying that sack of bones in the chair across from me is Dave. Dave Jones. The name says it all. Nothing special, nothing heroic or brilliant, unless you count being brilliantly mediocre, not even the faintest spark of originality or anything remotely unique. Just Dave. If he looks a little down to you, that's because less than two hours ago Dave returned home from his nine to five, nothing but cubicles, squeaky chairs, and never-ending stack of presentations and pointless paperwork to find the intensely beautiful woman he had dared to call his girlfriend doing things he had never even imagined to be possible to another intensely beautiful woman. Dave, not having the heart to interrupt, much less join the most beautifully amazing thing your narrator has ever witnessed, quietly shut the door and left. He then proceeded to this dank, musty pub to drown out said beautiful images. Now he's been staring off into nothing for so long now that his drink has become warm. I hate warm beer.
    "Dave. The beer has gone warm. Could we get a cold one?"
    Dave grunted, which I'm going to take as an acceptable response. "I'll have one more please Kian." The overweight, middle-aged bartender gave me a nod, pulled out a dirty, old mug, filled it to the brim with some frothy fluid, handed it to the waitress, and sent her on her way with a lively smack on her ample, yet firm behind. She seemed to not notice. Now there's a story I could get behind, quite literally if you catch my drift. But no, I got stuck with Dave here.
    "Maybe it wasn't Michelle, you know? Maybe I walked into the wrong house." Idiotic statements like these can only emanate from the mouths of people like Dave. It doesn't help that he sounded like a seven year old boy who had just been denied any given shiny or mildly luminescent object.
    " Maybe? First of all Dave, you know damn well that was your house, unless your neighbor gave you their keys and stole all of your furniture including that ridiculous turtle-shaped welcome mat..."
    "I like the turtle."
    "DON'T... interrupt me Dave," you see what I have to deal with? "And secondly, that butterfly tattoo Michelle has on her upper thigh is unmistakable. Also it's the only insect I have ever dreamed of becoming." What? You would too if you could just see the thing, the way it's positioned, on that body of hers... I'm tellin' you, it's great.
    "I don't understand why she would do this?"
    "Really Dave? Really?"
    "I was going to ask her to marry me."
    "Haha. No you weren't."
    "Well maybe I would have."
    "No. No you wouldn't have. You know that just as well as I do." I took a long gulp from the freshly poured, cold beer to punctuate my sentence.
    "After all these years Cohen, why do you come back now?" Now I have to admit, I have to give Dave a little credit for not pursuing the Michelle situation any further and finally getting to the important thing. Me
    "Come back? Dave, I never left. I've been watching since you stopped taking the meds. Trying to figure out where you've taken your life in my absence. I've just been quiet. Trying not to bother you too much. But I feel like your life has become too pathetic. So now I've decided that you need my help once again."
    "But you're the reason Michelle is in my life to begin with." Never mind. I take Dave's credit back.
    "And if you had listened to anything I told you, you could have avoided this whole situation."
    "So what do I do now?"  God forbid he man up and do anything for himself the way a normal person would. This kid needs me.
    "First thing you need to do is stop pouting. It happened, you screwed up, get over it. Second thing, keep drinking. Alcohol makes everything better."
    "Weren't you the product of my first alcohol induced adventure?"
    "Exactly! Glad you're catching on." We got the attention of the waitress and ordered another beer. The bartender completed the same ritual as before and after twisting through a maze of mostly vacant tables the waitress deposited my friend's beverage in front of him then leaned over to make eye level contact with Dave.
    "If there's anything else I can do for you, just let me know, okay?" The position in which she was standing granted Dave a pleasant view of her cleavage, me a fantastic view of the bartender's favorite part of her, and she was instantly guaranteed a minimum thirty dollar tip. The look on Dave's face was actually quite amusing. It was almost as if he had been injected right in the jaw with several paralytic agents. He mumbled something completely incomprehensible and the waitress just smiled and walked away.
    "Breathe Dave." He was drooling, actually drooling over the girl. Michelle who? Have you ever looked at your parents and wondered how you were created from something so helpless and embarrassing? Well that's how I feel constantly.
    Dave shifted a little in his seat. His eyes blinked rapidly a few times. He closed his mouth, then wiped a few drops of spittle from the side of his mouth and coughed. I slipped the new brew closer to him. "Drink up." He stared at the dirty glass for a moment.
    "It doesn't seem sanitary."
    "There are words for people like you, and most of them start with 'P'. So either you can drink it or I can, but either way, you will get drunk. Don't you love the way that works?"
    "Not particularly. I actually quite despise the fact that all of the consequences of your actions fall on me." It's a game of mine on some days to make obscene comments about women in Dave's vicinity. When they turn around Dave is the only man they can see, so naturally, he gets the full force of the slap and/or well-aimed kick. All I get is a good laugh. "I really wish you would go away for good."
    "If you meant that, I would already be gone. Admit it Dave, you need me. Otherwise your life has no point, no adventure, no excitement. That's why I've come back, because things aren't interesting anymore. Because you need to be kicked around. Because you want something to change. You need something different." There was a long pause where no one spoke. Dave became interested in the floor, and I smiled and had a few swallows of our drink. "Plus not taking your medicine made it all too easy to come back." That's when it hit him. I watched as realization seemed to constrict his body like a python. It started in his feet and slithered up around his skinny legs, past his groin. It twisted across his torso and up his neck. His eyes expanded to an almost nonhuman degree. S**t. He'd figured it out.
    "It was you!" Yep. "You did something. You made Michelle do this." I had really hoped he wouldn't think it was my fault, or at least not so soon. "What did you tell her? What did you do?" Thankfully he isn't bright enough to figure everything out.
    "It didn't really take much. But I promise I didn't make her do anything. I merely opened the door of opportunity to allow her do something she has always wanted to. She was no good for us Dave. She is static, beautiful but static. She worked at a clothing store, had a significant lack of intelligence, and offered no color to your already dull life. She whined like a child, and had no concept of the way the world works outside of her head. She has no future. She is going to wake up one morning and realize she has missed all of her potential, and that fate and life have given up on her, and if I didn't do anything about it you would have been right there next to her.  To top it off she seemed to be enjoying the whole lesbian thing much more than I ever remember her enjoying either of us." I made all of that up on the spot. I just pulled it all out of his subconscious and fed it right back to him. I really just love making disturbances in his life to watch how he handles it. He doesn't need to know that though. " You need someone new. One that can change you. Someone that will take you somewhere in this world. You can start over." I love the way he looks when I spoon feed him ideas.
    "Cohen, you can't control my life like that. It hurts to not be in control." Again with the sensitivity crap.
    "It hurts? Imagine how it feels when the only person you can talk to takes pills to keep you locked up in the back of his mind and you are made quiet for five damn years." Oops. Too much. I must control these outbursts or he might catch on. "I'm trying to help you Dave. Over the years you shown me nothing but a lack of the ability to take charge of your own life. I've made suggestions before to help you and you don't listen. So now I'm doing what I can to give you the best life possible, because you could never get there by yourself, and you complain." I grab the mug and chug down the remaining fluid in two great gulps. I can see the affect starting modify his body. It's almost time.
    "I am who I am because I am, Cohen. This is my life. It may not be the greatest, but it's mine and I will change it as I will, not as you will." He still doesn't understand. Sometimes he's just as hollow as that girl.
    Dave is starting to wobble in his seat. I must say I'm becoming more and more excited by the minute. It'll all be over in just a few more moments.
    "Your will, my will, it's all the same Dave. Don't you get it? We are two halves of the same thing. You have had the past twenty five years to do something with your life. The only remarkable things about your life are the ones I'm responsible for. You don't deserve to be in control anymore." I figure now is my only opportunity. I hope this works. He's about to keel over any minute now. "You feel sick don't you Dave?"
    "What? What are you doing? Cohen I don't feel well. Help me."
    "That's exactly what I'm doing Dave. I'm helping you. You locked me away for five long years. I come back to this pathetic mess of a life you have concocted. You screwed up everything I had set in line for us. No more Dave. I will not be put away again. It's your turn."
     I reached across the table and grabbed my counterpart at the collar. I began to pull Dave towards me. Towards me and away from the shell he has occupied for too long. Slowly he falls away and I drop him to the floor unconscious. The body beckons for a new host and I more than eagerly take the offer. Its warm. A stampede of sensations rush over me. Home. And now for the grand finale. I reach into my coat pocket and retrieve a small medicine bottle. I remove the lid and pick out one gray pellet of freedom. It tastes odd in my mouth, but only momentarily. I swallow and close my eyes. My lungs ask for oxygen and I oblige them deeply three times, then slowly reopen my eyes. All I see around me are the bartender and the waitress engaged in some shallow conversation, a few straggling patrons, and empty tables. No Dave. A smile found it's way to my face. Inside my back pocket I find a wallet with a fifty in it. I lay the cash on the table, then stand and take my exit. The waitress looks at me from the bar. I continue to smile and I give her a wink, and toss a nod to the bartender for good measure. The world is about to meet Cohen, and I am going to make sure it doesn't forget me.