A Valid Attempt at a Dizzying Sort of Dialogue

“You really shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”, Edgar said, focused a little too intently on slicing up the log of pepperoni.  He was trying to cut them into equal thicknesses but, either one was too thick or too thin, or it was cut at a slant, making the next piece malformed as well.

            Thom sat on a stool on the other side of the counter.  He drummed his fingers and snatched coins of pepperoni despite Edgar’s half-hearted protests.  “But”, argued Thom, “the source is a friend.  A good friend.”.  He kept his eyes on Edgar’s, looking for something telling.

            “A good friend?”, asked Edgar, his eyes still on the knife and meat.  “Or a great friend?  Like, one who would never lie.”

            “A good friend…who would never…lie…”, Thom started to trail off, “…I think…”

            “Nothing has changed in there since you last looked five minutes ago.”, Edgar said over his right shoulder.  “And all my food is gonna go bad.”

            Behind him, Martin was bent at the waist, examining the contents of Edgar’s refrigerator.  “What food?”, complained Martin, “You don’t have any food.  Man, you own an eatery, yet you have no food of yr own…in yr own place.”

            “But”, Thom lifted a finger, eager to make a point, “why would this good friend lie to me?  Like, what would they have to gain by it?  It doesn’t make sense.”

            “Would they have something to lose by telling the truth?”, Edgar asked, lifting his eyes.  Thom squinted back at him.

“Nothin’ to eat at all.  Seriously.”

            “Martin, there’s a ton of menus in that drawer.”  Edgar nodded to his left and down.  “Why don’t you order something?”  Martin sighed loudly as he closed the fridge.  He grabbed a slice of pepperoni and opened the drawer.

“Yr out of Bactine!”, came a declaration from the bathroom.

            “Check the medicine cabinet, Lew!”, Edgar hollered back.  “There might be some Neosporin in there!”.  Lew popped his head around the corner, nodded dramatically at Edgar and disappeared back into the bathroom.

“But he had nothing to gain by telling me that.”, Thom concluded.

            “Thom, seriously.  I have no idea why someone would say that about me”, Edgar shrugged as he, by habit, cleaned the knife blade on the side of his pants.  He put the knife in the sink and ate a piece of slivered meat.

            “Pizza…pizza…”, Martin rattled off as he shuffled thru the menus, “…Chinese… vegan…sushi...pizza…Thai…”

            “Who said what about you?”, Noah piped in.  He was kneeling in front of a crate, admiring Edgar’s LP collection.  He kept his place with the thumb of his good hand as he looked up.

            “It doesn’t matter.”, Edgar said, coming out from the kitchen and sitting on the couch across from a blank piece of wall on which should’ve been hung maybe, like, a TV or something or maybe a poster?

“If it doesn’t matter”, Thom spun to face the room, “then why not tell him?”

“…Mexican…pizza…sheesh, another pizza…Italian…burgers…”

            “Yeah, why not tell me?”, Noah innocently agreed, rubbing his cast against an itch on his torso.

            “Rumor has it”, started Kareem, from over on the other couch located under the front window, “that two girl—who shall remain nameless but can be easily guessed—stopped by the coffeehouse the other night right after they closed.  These two girls were drunk—linens in triplicate in the wind kind of drunk—and Edgar was very…shall we say, ungentlemanly? toward them.”  Throughout his entire explanation, Kareem kept adding small pinches of pot into his rolling paper.

            “Yr not smoking that in here.”, Edger said to him.  “What are you--? I don’t even want that in my apartment.  You know that.”

“That doesn’t sound like you, Edgar”, Noah pondered confusedly.

“Thank you, Noah.”

“Fine, I’ll go smoke this outside.”

“Away from my apartment.  Like, down the street, in another town.”  The door shut.

“…There almost, like, too many food choices here…”

“What’s this medicine for?”

“I can’t see thru the wall into the bathroom, Lew.”

            “Just because it doesn’t sound like something you’d do,” Thom mulled, “doesn’t mean you wouldn’t. Or…would.  Wait.  Which one do I mean?”

            “I know what you mean, Thom.  But what would I have to gain from having done that?  From having the rumors be true?”

Thom just smirked and chuckled.

“Yr twisted, man.”, Edgar dismissed.

            “Mitochondricine?”, Lew walked into the room brandishing the bottle.  “Edgar, did you have ACES?”

“No.  That was just precautionary.  Just like everyone else in The States.”

            “But, no, wait.  I still don’t understand.”, Thom shifted himself on the stool, trying to find a comfortable way to sit.  Finding none, he just leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.  He looked as if he’d pitch forward at any second.  “Why would this person lie to me?  Or make it up?  They would have no reason to.”

            “I don’t know”, shrugged Edgar, “Why don’t you ask this person?”  Thom was a bit frustrated that Edgar wasn’t the least bit rankled by neither Thom’s persistence nor the existence of the rumor itself.  “Did you ever think, Thom, that maybe what one sees isn’t always what is?  Could yr source have seen something and come to their own conclusion?”

            “Wait, so”, Lew shook the prescription bottle with his thumb and index finger, “…where did…how did you get these?”

“From my doctor”, Edgar slouched a little deeper into the couch. “Why so…?”

“I never got these.”, Lew shook his head and returned to the bathroom.

            “Y’know, Thom,”, Noah’s eyes skimmed down the liner notes of R.E.M.’s ‘Document’ LP, “this seems to be a bit of a riddle for you.  I mean, more than usual.  And I also mean more than things usually present themselves generally as a riddle to you.”

            “Bite it, Noah.”, then, turning back to Edgar, “Well, can you just answer whether it’s true or not?”

            “Who wants pizza?”, Martin waved the menu around above his head.  Everyone answered “Me.”, except Lew, who answered, “What?”

“Dude. Lew. Pizza?”

“Yes.”

            “I don’t even know what the exacts of the rumor are, so I’m not about to—I’ll have pepperoni, Martin—I’m not about to say Yea or Nay to anything.  And don’t look at me like that, Martin.  I do realize the irony of the fact that I just cut up some pepperoni and that I also want it on my pizza.”

“I didn’t say nuttin’”

            “Then, let’s ask Kareem”, Thom says, wagging his finger in the air.  “He seems to know about it.  Pepperoni for me, too.  Oh, and sausage.”

“I don’t see Neosporin anywhere.”

“Then I’m probably out, Lew.  What do you want on yr pizza?”

            “Mushrooms and olives.”, Lew came out of the bathroom and went straight to the plate of pepperoni, “and extra cheese.”

            Noah pulled out a pressing of ‘Mingus Ah Um’ to examine it.  “Pepperoni and mushrooms for me.  And, yeah, extra cheese.”

            The apartment door opened.  A chilly spring wind blew itself around Kareem, carrying his residual scent into the room.  His eyes were red and glassy, and he had parts of a smile stuck to his face.

            “Just the man I wanna see.”, Thom swiveled back and forth on his stool.  Kareem eyed him suspiciously.

“Me too.”, added Martin.

“…about what?”, Kareem ventured.

“Pizza.  And do you want any?  And what do you want on it?”

“Yes, just plain, Martin.”, Kareem answered, not taking his eyes off Thom.

            “Well…”, Thom patted the stool next to him for Kareem to sit on, which he didn’t.  He just stood by the door with his arms crossed as Thom spoke.  “…you seem to have the most details about this rumor.  And Edgar isn’t admitting to it or denying it because he doesn’t know the exact—“

            “Ah! I get it!”, Edgar blurted out, pointing from Thom to Kareem.  “This is yr quote-unquote good friend.  Kareem is yr source.  I just figured that out.”

            “Very good.”, Kareem congratulated, unfazed.  He stared at Thom and spoke slowly and condescendingly, “Thom.  I have a great idea.  Why don’t you just ask Edgar staright, flat-out what happened?  Or was that option too easy?”

            The apartment got quieter.  Lew continued smacking his lips as he scarfed down the pepperoni.  Martin was drawing circles and diameter lines on the menu, trying to figure out how many pizzas they should get and which ones would have which toppings.  Edgar suppressed a chuckle as he looked back and forth between Thom and Kareem.  Kareem’s smirk became more and more smug while Thom’s face grew redder and slowly angry.

            Noah finally broke the silence with, “Dude.  You have all these albums. Why don’t you have a record player?”