Alvin White had his feet up on his desk. He sipped from his avocado smoothie while glancing at the dated sepia toned surveillance monitor. The big aluminium coffee pot hissed, bubbled, belched, snorted and farted while he sucked at the smoothie licking the green froth from his lips. He would let the tenants in at five to nine because he was a nice guy. The Jolly Rancher was the first hotel in the city to be converted into social housing for the so-called hard to house and Alvin was the lone staff member. He glanced at the clock. It was ten to nine. He cracked his knuckles and sucked air in and out of nose, drawing it in fast and letting it out slowly. On camera two he saw the black clad figure of Emma McGrath making her way across the parking lot towards the office. She had a cigarette butt tucked tightly in the corner of her curled mouth. He could see her fists were clenched tight and her arms were held firm in half circles as she bounced down the six concrete steps next to the dried up concrete pond to get to the office of the Jolly Rancher. She yanked on the office door and then began to hammer the office door window with her fist.
“Is the coffee ready yet!” She roared.
“I will open in five minutes Emma,” Alvin yelled from behind the desk.
“What the fuck man?” She stared at Alvin through the window with an intense look of anger and dismay and then abruptly swivelled on her heels and did her fierce march back to her abode. Alvin went over to the coffee pot and pulled the lever and poured himself a coffee. He took turns sipping from his smoothie and the coffee.
At six minutes to nine Karl Lundgren opened his door. He stepped outside and looked across at the office of the Jolly Rancher.
“Still not fucking open,” he complained out loud to himself. Karl snorted and then spat out a hunk of dark brown phlegm onto the parking lot while he dug through the right hand pocket of his ripped puffy down vest for cigarette butts. He examined the butts in the palm of his right hand. He picked the biggest one ignoring the faint evidence of black dirt and cherry red lipstick on the filter and put it in his mouth and returned the others to his pocket. In his left hand Karl gripped tightly the large plastic Big Gulp mug he found at the turkey bluff where he had shot a speedball with Trigger. He shuffled forward towards the common room of the Jolly Rancher. He had to beat the new tenant to the coffee pot before he drained it all with his giant glass mug. Karl watched as Alvin White opened the common room door.
“About fucking time,” Karl muttered quietly to himself out of ear shot as he slid across the lot.
“How’s it hanging?” Karl asked as he shuffled into the common room.
“It’s hanging well Karl, I think. How’s it going with you?”
“Could be better, man. I could be something other than a junkie with AIDS.” Alvin nodded, drawing in a deep breath with his lips pursed tightly as if he were trying to invoke some type of gloomy empathy at the seriousness of Karl’s statement or preparing to blow out a large number of birthday candles. Through the large common room windows Alvin watched Emma once again doing her brisk march across the lot looking like she would eviscerate anything that got in her way with her balled fists. Karl filled his cup with the dark liquid and then from a bowl on the table Karl spooned in six large spoonfuls of sugar followed by a few ounces of powdered milk that he poured from a large plastic mug next to the sugar bowl. Emma entered the common room with a scowl on her face that changed to a smile when she saw Karl.
“Hey Karl, how is it hanging?”
“A little to the left,” said Karl and they both laughed.
“Got to get a coffee quick eh Karl before that new fat bastard shows up and drains the whole pot with that giant mug he has eh? Somebody is gonna pop that fat fucker if he keeps that shit up eh?” While she poured her coffee Emma looked over at Alvin. “You need to talk to him, Alvin, because it’s your god damn job eh.”
“I have spoken to him already Emma and I will speak to him again but thank you for reminding me what my job is.”
“Somebody has to, har, har,” Emma snorted out a giggle and winked at Karl who smiled back. Emma got herself some sugar and some milk and then she began to whisper to the air as if there was an invisible person beside her. Big Don Leduc came in with his enormous mug.
When Emma saw Don she stopped her whispering and let out a low snarl.
“You better not drain all the coffee you big fat fuck!” She warned. Don smiled at her as if she were utterly inconsequential while his left eyeball rolled in his socket until it appeared to get stuck at the corner of his eye.
“Emma, we don’t talk like that here in the common room,” said Alvin.
“Whatever man,” Emma gruffed as she stomped out. Don began to pour coffee into the big mug. He tilted the pot for it to pour faster.
“Don, do not fill that entire mug and drain the coffee pot. You are not the only person who lives here. Other people will want coffee and we don’t have the budget for two pots every day. You’ve been warned before,” said Alvin from his desk across the room.
“What?” said Don as his eyeball did a full revolution in his left socket.
“That’s enough, Don!”
“What?”
“THAT’S ENOUGH COFFEE DON!” Alvin stood up from behind his desk.
“Okay, Jesus, you don’t have to have a conniption, dude.”
“Apparently I do.”
Earl Wexler aka Trigger sauntered in. Even though it wasn’t warm Earl was shirtless and shoeless. Trigger looked Don up and down until his pale blue eyes rested on the big mug in Don’s puffy right hand.
“You better not have drained the pot again man. I will scramble you like an egg, lard butt,” Trigger leered menacingly and leaned forward with his right fist clenched. Don gave a blase smile and slid his thick bulk past the very lean muscular Trigger and went out the common room door. Trigger looked over at Karl and Alvin.
“Fat boy thinks I’m kidding.” Trigger opened the common room door and yelled,
“YOU THINK I’M KIDDING, FAT BOY?” Don slid through his apartment door and disappeared from sight.
“Enough Trigger! If you get into another fight here Trigger you might be evicted and would you please close the door, it’s cold in here.”
“You know I can’t be evicted Alvin, Doctor Dick won’t ever let that happen.”
“Don’t push your luck, Trigger.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Let it go, Trigger,” said Karl. Trigger sneered. Alvin gazed at the sores and purple, yellow, brown bruises that ran up and down Trigger’s arms.
“Dr Dick has cut me back on my Adderall once again. He is forcing me to score more dirty jib on the street.”
“No one is forcing you to do crystal meth, Trigger,” said Alvin.
“Who are you kidding Alvin? They are the ones who got me hooked on speed in the first place.”
“How so?”
“I am attention deficit. I can’t pay attention to most people to save my life mainly because most people are idiots that don’t have anything interesting to say.”
“But what has that got to do with your crystal problem?”
“They got me started on the speed dude. Started giving me Ritalin when I was knee high to a grass hopper.”
“Who?”
“The system Alvin, who do you think? These creeps are all the same, their job is to bring destruction to people like me.”
“What about me Trigger?”
“You are part of it, you are just a little more blind and dumb which actually makes you more human.”
“Really?”
“Abosolutely,” Trigger smirked. “Its time to go feed my rats.”
“Later Trigger,” Karl groaned. A few more tenants came and grabbed coffee and left. Soon there was just Karl and Alvin in the room. Alvin slouched deeply in the broken faux black leather office chair. Karl scratched at a purple bulb at the end of his nose. After a moment Karl spoke,
“I tried crystal meth recently,” said Karl
“You know that’s bad shit Karl. You only have to look as far as Trigger to see the damage done.”
“Yeah, I know. Trigger’s a total mess. I’m sure there are gaping holes in his brain the size of a sauce pan.”
“Exactly.”
“Yeah, I don’t know man. I was feeling pretty low and I was about to get junk sick and everybody says crystal will prevent you from getting junk sick.”
“Yes, but it is habit forming too.”
“Only psychological.”
“I’m not so sure about that Karl.”
“Anyway, the shit was awful. You don’t inhale cause it can kill you. It froze my lungs and made me puke and then I couldn’t sleep for two days.”
“Sounds great.”
“Yeah, I know, I’m an idiot.”
“You are not an idiot Karl.”
“Yeah no, I disagree. I’ve thrown my life away for a junk habit I’ve had since I was fifteen.”
“You were successfully cutting back there for quite awhile until you were ready to kick.”
“I just don’t got the will power.”
“Are you still thinking about maybe giving methadone a try?”
“Yeah, maybe, I don’t know. That shit dissolves your bone marrow and it is more addictive than heroin. Kenny D said it took him eighteen sleepless nights to kick that shit. Did you know the Nazis invented methadone and they invented crystal meth?”
“Really?”
“They invented the crystal for their soldiers. The French would go into battle all sloppy drunk on red wine while the Krauts were totally amped on crystal and they would kick their drunken French asses.”
“Where did you learn this history, Karl?”
“Do not underestimate the History Channel, man. I have learned some crazy stuff there. I hope they don’t ever cancel the free cable here. Did you know King Henry the Eighth and all those other kings had personal bum wipers? Imagine if that was your day job?”
“Didn’t know that, maybe didn’t want to know that.”
“Crazy stuff you learn man. History is crazy, humans are crazy, crazy, nasty creatures.” Karl rubbed the purple bulb on his nose and wiped his mouth with the tattered edges of his long grey sweater. From a distance Karl still appeared young and handsome but up close you could see the furrowed lines getting deeper and the red pink slashes of a number of thin scars across his face. “Did I ever tell you about my stint in Quebec prison?”
“Definitely not. I would have remembered that.”
“It was super, super shitty. I don’t speak French.”
“How in hell did you end up there?”
“Well I grew up in a total northern hick town in Ontario. I mean it was real nowhere’s ville and as we’ve talked about before I had a real shitty childhood, real, real shitty and I couldn’t wait to get out of Wawa Ontario. I ended up hooking up with this French Canadian gutter punk chick and we went to her mother’s place in Montreal and after not very long we got kicked out by her mother’s psycho biker boyfriend so we ended up panhandling on Saint Catherine’s and hanging with her old friends who were like the original squeegee kids. We had three husky dogs and we were all squatting in this abandoned warehouse. It was the good old days. You wouldn’t get away with that shit right downtown anywhere anymore. Anyhow, there was this muscle bound bouncer who used to chase us from our panhandle spot every day. He worked at the night club where we parked ourselves. One day he spat on Yvonne and told her, “You are nothing but a piece of shit!” So I stabbed him.
“Wow.”
“Yeah, we ran through downtown with the dogs but the cops were straight on us. Sirens everywhere. One of the cops got bit by Fido, he was the alpha male of the pack. Man, those Frenchie pigs were pissed, gave me a real kicking.”
“What happened to the dogs?”
“They put them all down.”
“That’s awful.”
“I cried like a baby. I still feel super shitty about that.” Karl rubbed his purple nose bulb.
“But one good thing happened while I was in that Frenchie joint.”
“Oh yeah?”
“It was yard time and somebody threw a bag of dope over the wall and I caught it and hid it right away. I kept my mouth shut and got it to the right people. Everything for me went better after that.”
“I bet.”
“I gotta go smoke this butt now.”
“Sure Karl.”
“You want me to leave your office door open?”
“Sure Karl.”
“Later Alvin.” Karl stepped outside and took a spit at the eastern sun.
After a few minutes a large figure began to skulk around in the common room. Waldo the Walrus was nearly as thick as he was tall. He was prematurely bald and his build caused Alvin to think of Buddha or a Sumo wrestler. With Waldo came a terrible odour that almost exactly replicated the Jolly Rancher dumpster which Alvin had found Waldo in a number of times. Waldo had a surprisingly big gaping smile showing a full set of large yellow teeth below a choppy hairy upper lip. “Is this cup free for the taking squire Alvin?” Waldo held up a dark brown cup and examined it with his large eyes.
“I think somebody has simply forgotten it, Waldo, and may return to claim it.”
“I see no name upon it.”
“Very few people name their cups Waldo.”
“I see. I think it would be a very good idea for the people of the Jolly Rancher to name their cups.”
“Do you name your cups Waldo?”
“I should. People here should probably name everything.” Waldo picked up a pair of bicycle handle bars that were sitting on a table.
“May I have these sir?”
“I don’t know whose they are.”
“They appear abandoned.”
“They are probably Trigger’s as he’s always dismantling bikes. I think it goes with his addiction.”
“His addiction…” Waldo rolled out the word.
“Go ahead and take them Waldo. They’ve been sitting on that table for some time.”
“Thank you kind sir,” said Waldo as he held up the handle bars and looked them up and down as if they were the most exquisite handle bars ever made. Out of the corner of his eye Alvin watched as a figure moved swiftly towards the office from across the parking lot. A man in a darkly stained fuzzy white blue track suit and sandals bounced into the office. The track coat was almost fully unzipped in the front showing a lean muscular olive skinned torso. The man had a number of metal rings around his wrists and a chain around his neck that was locked by a small steel lock. On his left breast he had a tattoo of a green lizard and on his right breast it said, in Indian ink, “I’m on the highway to hell.”
“People always ask where’s Waldo, while here he is right here. Waldo the Walrus, how are you doing brother man dude? What are you doing with my handle bars buddy? Those go with my fine Italian Marinoni racing bike I just found unlocked outside the liquor store.”
“The owner of the bike was likely in the liquor store purchasing liquor, Arnold,” said Waldo.
“Well he shouldn’t be leaving his bike unlocked and unattended shouldn’t he?”
“That still doesn’t make it okay to steal somebody’s bike, Arnold,” Alvin piped in from behind the desk. Arnold glanced at Alvin and scowled. “I disagree. It’s like the idiots who get me to score their dope who think they don’t deserve to get ripped off. Look at me. I wouldn’t trust me. They deserve to get ripped off.” Arnold grinned, showing a mouthful of black and missing teeth and then he squished his nose flat against his face like it was made out of rubber.
“It is still wrong to steal Arnold. It is like one of the seven deadly sins in the bible not that I want to be preachy.”
“The bible was written by aliens, you know.”
“Yeah, I’m not so sure about that Arnold.”
“It was Waldo’s people right Waldo? You are an alien aren’t you Waldo?”
“If you say so Arnold,” Waldo gave a big grin.
“There’s my cup. I’ve been looking for that all week.” Arnold picked up the plastic cup and raised it in the air.
“You should put your name on it,” suggested Waldo.
“Waldo, did I ever tell you that you are totally nuts?” They both laughed.
“Any more coffee Alvin, or did that new guy with the big mug take it all?”
“There should still be some there, Arnold.”
“Better be. Can I borrow your cup, Walrus?”
“It is not mine, Mr. Arnold.”
“Don’t you mister me big crazy buddy, I ain’t no dignitary, ha, ha, ha. This cup is mine now.”
“We should put names on cups.”
“Did I tell you that you are crazy, Walrus?”
“Whatever you say Arnold,” Waldo grinned. “Would it be possible for you to drive me to the bottle depot in the sunshine van Alvin? I have six big bags of empty containers I must recycle.”
“Can you drop me by my dealer’s place, Alvin? I’m pretty sure he’s going to want to buy this Marinoni from me because he is into racing bikes.”
“I can’t be driving stolen bikes around in the sunshine bus, Arnold.”
“Don’t be a jerk, Alvin. I made that story up. Jimmy James gave the bike to me for some money he owed me.” Alvin shook his head and rolled his eyes.
“Between the empties and the bike it is going to be a little crowded, Arnold.”
“There’s tons of room in that pedo van of yours Alvin.”
“The sunshine bus is not a pedo van, Arnold, it has windows,” Alvin corrected.
“Whatever you say, Alvin.”
“Be ready to go in fifteen, guys.”
A few minutes later Waldo dragged six garbage bags full of empties into the common room. From one of the bags Alvin could see where the bag had leaked leaving a shiny green trail of unidentifiable sludge. “Jesus, Waldo, look at the trail of sludge you’ve left behind you.”
“I’m terribly sorry, good sir.”
“I’ll get the mop bucket but you are going to have to double bag that bag before we put it in the sunshine bus.”
“Yes boss,” Waldo bowed. Alvin went out to the parking lot to retrieve the sunshine bus. He pulled it in front of the common room. Arnold stepped out from his suite and blew his nose from pursed fingers of his right hand.
Johnny Thunderbird emerged from the next door suite. “Anymore coffee?” Johnny yelled.
“Sorry Johnny, I think it’s gone,” Alvin replied.
“The world is a bucket of shit,” said Johnny. Arnold laughed.
“What are you laughing at, neighbour?”
“You and your bucket of shit,” said Arnold. Johnny gave Arnold a tense stare and then broke into a smile. “I made a funny eh Arnold?” Arnold smiled. “Are you going downtown in the pedo van Alvin?”
“Its not a pedo van Johnny, it’s got windows,” Alvin rolled his eyes.
“I need a lift to my panhandle spot.”
“Sure Johnny.” They put the bike and the bags in the back of the van.
From across the lot Emma flew out of her front door. “Are you guys going downtown or what?”
“It’s starting to get a little tight Emma but we will find room for you,” said Alvin.
“I’m sitting up front,” said Emma as she started her march across the lot.
“Too late,” said Johnny as he jumped into the passenger seat.
“You are a dick Johnny Thunderbird.”
“Yeah, I know,” Johnny grinned. They drove down George Road. Johnny pulled a crumpled cigarette butt from the pocket of his black leather vest and lit it with a red plastic lighter.
“Johnny, you can’t smoke in here.”
“I’m winding down my window.”
“Johnny, this is a no smoking bus.”
“I saw you let Karl smoke in here.”
“If my boss smells smoke in here I’m in deep shit.”
“You work at the Jolly Rancher Alvin, is there deeper shit than that?” Johnny asked. Everybody laughed except Alvin who slowly shook his head.
