Well, this is it...the last chapter of my long and winding tale. I suppose I should just get right into it.
“And that was that,” I said to Garrett Steel. “I changed Friendly Tony’s birth certificate too, so he was back to being himself again.” We were sitting at a beige picnic table at Falafel Drive-In. I had gotten a falafel lunch special, which came with a banana shake; Garrett had gotten a falafel and fries, but no shake.
“Did he ever try to come back to your apartment?” said Garrett. “He was living there, after all.”
“Nope,” I said. “I guess he figured it out. Anyway, I made a few changes with the white out pen as retribution, so I think he got the message pretty quickly.”
“Changes?” said Garrett through a mouthful of falafel and spicy sauce. “Like what?”
“Well, as it turns out, Friendly Tony left a few other documents in the desk. I found his resume in there, and I whited out his ‘current job’ and replaced it with ‘Jizz Mopper’ at Sinnaman Erotica Outlet in Riverside.”
“Yikes,” said Garrett. “Riverside? That’s just cruel.”
“That’s the way the falafel crumbles,” I said, motioning to my rapidly disintegrating pita bread. I laughed out loud. Garrett did not.
“So now what?” Garrett said. “You know, we could make a pretty funny skit out of this whole thing.”
“Later, maybe,” I said. “I have some important business to attend to first.”
“I know what you mean,” said Garrett. “Every time I eat one of these falafels, I’m in the bathroom within a half an hour.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” I said. “Although that is a valid point. What I mean is, since I have this white out pen, there’s something I’ve always wanted to do that is finally a possibility.” I paused, waiting for Garrett to ask me what I was talking about. He didn’t, instead just staring at me while eating his fries. After an awkward minute, I continued. “I’m going to change Adriana Lima’s wedding records and replace Marko Jaric’s name with mine. I’m pretty psyched about it…Adriana Marsilio. Heh heh heh.” I rubbed my hands together. Falafel sauce smeared across my palms.
“That poor girl,” said Garrett. “Actually, you know what? That’s kind of awesome. Could you do that for me, too?”
“What? We can’t both be married to Adriana Lima, Garrett. Polygamy is against the law. Though I suppose I could white out the law and change it, but there are lines I’m not willing to cross.”
“I’m not talking about Adriana Lima,” said Garrett. “I want to be married to Michelle Trachtenburg. Can you do that for me?”
I shook my head glumly. “Garrett, I’m surprised at you,” I said. “This pen is capable of terrible things if used wantonly. I can’t just do whatever I want with it. That would be immoral and destructive. I mean, really man, how selfish can you be?”
“But you’re-“ said Garrett.
“Ah, ah!” I said. “No more. I’m not going to do it, Garrett. This is a terrible responsibility, an awful burden I have to bear. You should be thanking me that you don’t have to make these moral decisions, that you don’t have to resist the temptation to abuse this awesome power. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go take my bride. I hope you’ll use this time to think about what a sick, self-serving request that was.” I stood up and left the table, knocking my soggy pita remains to the ground and clutching my Styrofoam cup half full of banana shake.
Garrett sat at the table, alone, halfheartedly munching on his fries as a stray breeze carried a few rustling leaves past him. He sighed and said, “I miss Friendly Tony.”
I'd like to thank those of you who have taken the time to read through this. I know it was pretty long, so I hope you derived at least some enjoyment out of it. It was a fun six weeks for me, and I'm relatively happy with the finished product. Now the question is, will I go back to my one blog a month posting schedule, or will this make me more productive? I really should work on my book more, so who knows. But I ramble. Have a great day, everyone!