“Charlie’s Angels was just on T.V. and after I watched it something occurred to me.  Actually two things occurred to me.  One is that that the girls in that movie don’t exactly make A plus role models for girls to mimic since they never seem to use their brains.

 But if they’re angels, then that means Charlie is God, or some kind of boss angel.  But I think God is the boss angel, if you believe in all that stuff.

But why would God have a detective agency?  Wouldn’t he already know who did it?”

“What are you talking about?”  The girl named Jenny looks at him with disapproval that curves almost imperceptibly into a flicker of fear.

“What do you mean?”  Paul asks.

“Everything you just said, why did you say all that stuff?”  Jenny replies.

“I dunno, it was on my mind.”  He says, and then he thinks to himself, That’s not true actually.  I was thinking about how bored you look.  And how I could pass the time after you leave.

She grimaces at him again and says, “I better be going”. 

What she means to say is “Up until about 45 seconds ago I thought you were quirky but cute, but now I am beginning to think you’re a psycho.  Perhaps if I hadn’t had any experiences with psychos in my life, particularly the last two guys who turned out to be psychos, I might consider overlooking your weirdness…

However, I can no sooner change history than you can apparently change your t-shirt.  More importantly I have no time for weird shit from any specific guy, considering all guys are mostly the same anyway.”

But what she did say was “I better be going” which didn’t nearly encompass the whole idea.  Luckily she delivered the words with a look on her face that somehow entirely did.

As a few minutes pass an uneasy feeling begins pressing itself on Paul.  There is some sort of lesson to be learned and he can’t seem to get it.  Waves of it break on the outside and inside of his body at the same time, feeling intense a little out of proportion.  These pressures collide like two weather systems attempted to be kept apart by a garbage bag.  The bag rips and after it the dome sky churns grey and black. 

3 days later Paul is talking to a friend named Cameron while they stand in line to buy booze at the Liquor Store.  They are talking about a movie. 

“I guess I was just curious about how bad it was going to be.”  Says Paul.  I haven’t slept in 52 hours.  For the last 36 I have caught myself referring to myself in my own thoughts exclusively in the third person.  Last night I tried to imagine what it would be like to be a vampire and found the whole idea incredibly boring.

“You see that’s how we’re different, because if I know something is going to suck I try to avoid it.”  Says Cameron as he hands a bill to the cashier.

“How would you know it sucks then?  I think that by watching shitty movies I have something to compare good movies to.”  It seems possible that 2000 years ago a copy of me could have had this exact conversation on another planet.  If I blink when I open my eyes will I still be here or will I be an earthquake killing thousands in Turkey.

“I think that’s a weak idea.  For some reason I don’t think you need bad examples of things to know when something is good.  I don’t need to have bad hair to appreciate good hair.”

“Don’t you?”  This case of beer seems to weigh more in my left hand than my right hand.  I think when we leave here I will draw a pair of Spock ears on the picture of the guy on the ten dollar bill in my wallet.  I wish a giant robot would tear the roof of this building and shatter it in the parking lot. 

“Sometimes I wonder about you.”  Cameron says not totally faking concern.

“Sometimes you’re too literal.”  I think that the universe is a chain reaction that goes on forever.  The self is impossible, everything exists and nothing does not exist.  Every thought is a quark vibrating, and I am the size of a quark in a quark.

“So what happened with that girl from last week?”  Cameron asks opening a beer in the parking lot.  They are walking down the alley now.

“She told me she was taking a flight to Bermuda.  The last I heard the plane’s compass began acting strangely and they saw a ship that was lost 100 years ago, then they disappeared from contact.”  Paul says.

“So you’re suggesting that she got lost in the Bermuda triangle as some retarded way to explain that she didn’t like you?”

“I never mentioned the Bermuda Triangle.”  I am so dramatic.

Later.

Paul stands with 4 friends at the corner of a bar in a busy club on a Friday night.  Currently his friends are discussing someone he doesn’t know so he isn’t paying attention.  At one point a friend asks him a question but he’s actually so engrossed in staring blankly that he misses it completely.

He notices a girl across the crowd who he hasn’t seen before.  The girl is maybe 25, bleached blonde, attractive and she is there with a friend who fits nearly exactly the same description.  She has large eyes and a small nose with a wide oval shaped mouth.  Her cheekbones are pronounced but very pretty.  The girl also has large colorful detailed tattoos covering the tops of each of her shoulders and stretching down to the outside of her biceps.

It’s unlikely a coincidence that she is wearing a spagetti strapped shirt that makes the tattoos clearly visible.  But covering them up would be a mistake anyway.

Her name is Daniella.  As it happens she currently has a boyfriend.  Within a year he will leave her, one night unexpectedly.  She will come home from work and he will be gone.  Relocated to Las Vegas.  When he goes he will leave her for her best friend, the one she is with tonight.  He will leave behind his pet snake, which she will then take care of.  She will tell people it is a Boa constrictor though she is mistaken since it is in fact a Burmese python.  She will also call the snake Tim although the original name given to it by her ex-boyfriend was King Penis.

In keeping with the snake theme in her life she will get a tattoo of a snake eating its own tail on the left side of her pelvis just below where her pelvic bone sticks out.

Her ex-boyfriend joins a band and they all move to Las Vegas.  The band is a strictly by the numbers knock off of the slightly popular desert punk guitar band ‘Clutch’.  His band hopes quickly degenerate into on again off again seasons of speedballing and cooling on Ketamine and PCP jags and never stepping foot on any stage until 2 years later when he attempts stand up comedy.

Daniella glances Paul’s way and catches him looking at her but she doesn’t look upset about it.  Not knowing what to do next he improvises and smiles while making a small wave with his left hand, in the process nearly knocking a pint glass out of a friend’s hand standing next to him.

After the small commotion surrounding the pint glass he looks back her direction but she isn’t standing there anymore.

Across the room a different girl has been watching Paul.  She first noticed him at this bar 6 months ago but has always been to shy to approach him.  She lacks self confidence because she is a little overweight, which is a mistake because she is attractive.

What she has yet to realize because she perceives herself as unattractive is that the lion’s share of guys she finds interesting and attractive in this or any other bar are in fact a sad collection of tweakers(speed freaks), snowmen (cocaine users), and bar DJ’s (losers).  Most of the men in here are probably about as wise of a thing to touch as an agitated porcupine.  The one that currently interests her is definitely no better than the average. 

In the future she will lose the weight and then receive far more attention from men.  This will reinforce her skewed perception of beauty until she realizes what a bunch of assholes the guys she attracts are.  She will then begin a 5 year relationship primarily with booze and a rotating roster of the 4 men she’s met who don’t always stare at her breasts when she is talking to them.

Several hours later that night the girl with the tattoos walks past Paul, who is now standing 4 feet away from where he was standing before. 

She approaches him and says, “Hey, you’re the guy that waved at me before!”

“No I’m not, that was someone else.”  Paul replies jokingly.

“Oh.”  She says and frowns. The joke missed, she thinks it’s a brush off and immediately turns and walks.  Paul is stunned at first then realizes that it wasn’t good timing or a good joke.  In fact it wasn’t very identifiable as a joke and didn’t make sense, now that he has had a second to think about it.

As she walks away he quickly begins rationalizing why it was all a bad idea anyway.  A lot of the rationalizations focus on her tattoos.

When she returns to her friend, her friend who is named Teri asks, “Where did you go?”

“Bathroom.”  Replies Daniella.

“So let’s take a road trip to Vegas, it’ll be fuckin wicked!”  Teri pleads.

“I fucking hate Las Vegas.  I said no.  Stop asking”

At that point her friend is visibly disappointed.  The last song ends and the DJ begins playing a song by the band ‘Clutch’.

“Wicked, I love this band!”  Teri squeals with delight and jumps out of her seat. 

Daniella rolls her eyes and sips her drink.

Across the room Paul is still next to his friends.

“Hey, what did that girl say to you?”  Asks Paul’s friend Chris.

“She thought I was someone else.”

Monotony.  Neoteny.

One week later.

Paul stands with 4 friends at the corner of a bar in a noisy club on a Friday night.  Currently his friends are discussing someplace he doesn’t know so he isn’t paying attention.  At one point a friend asks him a question but he’s actually so engrossed in staring blankly that he misses it completely.

A guy they know walks up to them with a girl and the two join the conversation.  The girl is pretty.  She is slim but in a healthy way and she has a face that is cute and bright.

They all begin chatting and consequently Paul suddenly becomes involved in the conversation.  She is wearing a t-shirt that says ‘Rival Schools’ on it, which Paul recognizes as a shirt for a band that he has heard before.

“Rival schools eh?”  Paul says to her sort of as a question and gestures at her shirt.

“Yeah,” she replies.  “Do you like them?” she asks seeming kind of happily curious.

“Not particularly.”

“Hmm…”

The conversation continues on.  As time passes friends drift off from the group until only Paul and the girl remain standing there.

“So instead of getting the best mark in the class I got a severe lower intestinal inflammation and failed the class.  And then instead of going to camp Yakawawa for the summer with my all friends I got to sit on a special ass pillow and drink special juice that tasted like sour cream.”  She says.

“That’s really no substitute for camp.”  Paul chuckles.

“I know.”  She says making big eyes, dragging out both words and putting a goofy emphasis on them, which makes both her and Paul laugh.

“It looks like everyone has left.”  Paul comments, hoping she stays but trying not to look too much like he hopes she stays.

“I came over to talk to you.”  She replies quickly.

“Oh.”  This is interesting.  Wait a minute, Did I hear her right? I better get out of here quick before I seem interested.

“I need another drink.  See you around.”

One week later.

Paul stands alone at the corner of a bar in a crowded club on a Friday night.  Currently he is paying attention to the whole room, not pretending not to be looking for someone.

A girl he knows is walking by.  “Hey, what’s up Kineshia?”

“My name’s Kim.”  She says flatly, then speeds up her pace slightly.

“That’s what I said.”  Paul calls to her back as she walks off.

He sees the girl from the week before sitting at a table.  She is sitting with some people he knows well enough that he can intrude without feeling too much awkwardness to ignore easily.  Without taking a second for consideration of being intrusive he approaches.

“What’s going on ladies?”  He says for some reason thinking it sounds cool but it doesn’t.

“We’re talking about a big party we’re having this weekend.  We’re gonna dress up like the 80’s.”

“How novel.”  Paul replies without masking his sarcasm.  They all scowl at this remark but then brush it off for the time being. 

“Is anyone going as that brawny chick from the Facts of Life?”  Paul asks.

“What’s the facts of life?”  Someone asks.

“I dunno, I guess work, death, taxes.”  Paul replies.

“What?”  They ask puzzled.

“What What?”  Paul responds, puzzled himself.

“What are you talking about?”

“Was I talking?”

“Forget it.”

The group continues their conversation and Paul offers in a few funny jokes, but the topic changes and he is silent for a while.

What’s the fucking point? 

Since you asked, you think you need to answer that.  But you don’t.  What you need to answer is this question.  What is your fucking problem? 

“You haven’t said anything for about the last 5 minutes, are you alright?”  A girl asks.

“Oh, yeah, I was just trying to remember something.”

“What was it?”

“Oh, just something I ought to do.” 

At this point he realizes he has forgotten this girl’s name.  This being the situation he weighs his options. 

He could continue on oblivious to her name and see if it somehow comes up again later.  That plan however runs the risk of exposing his ignorance further down the line and compounding the embarrassment; which could at least be slightly amusing. 

He could try to find a mutual friend and ask that person for her name. 

He could go with the basic honest option and just ask her directly.  But that might get uncomfortable.

He decides instead to get up from the table, grab his jacket, finish his drink on the way to the door and go home.

He looks down at his drink.  It is uncharacteristically still nearly full.  With a glance he sees that his jacket is sitting on the bench beside her.

“This may seem super rude, but I can’t remember your name.”