Hope Idiotic | Part 39
Hope Idiotic is a serialized novel. Catch each new part every week on Monday and Thursday.
To: neal_hardingphd@yahoo.com
From: thebergman79@hotmail.com
Subject: Booze Versus Rent
Hey, Neal–
I’m sitting here in my corner office of the sheet metal shop debating if I should go get lunch. And by lunch, I mean drive back to my dad’s house, cook a frozen pizza I won’t eat and drink a glass or two of scotch, watch some Tv then head back to this corner office smoking cigarettes on the drive over.
I should explain my corner office to you so you don’t get any false ideas. It’s a room in the corner of the building. It only has one window. It’s small and high, closer to the ceiling. There is metal mesh over it so that the creeps and criminals that lurk around this part of town don’t try to break in and steal our equipment. I’m not complaining. I like having my own office. It’s filled with blueprints and there’s a drafting board I use to review them. It’s not the kind of office I imagined having at 30 years old, but at least it comes with some money and I’m mostly left alone to drink and smoke. It’s not like we’re getting any jobs that I’m bidding on. The market sucks for everything I come into contact with. I’m starting to think that I’m 100 percent sure it’s all my fault. Everything.
I shouldn’t have left without a job. I shouldn’t have left at all. I had a good thing in Vegas. Think about it. I was doing stand up, I had plenty of freelance money rolling in, we were having fun tolerating the corporate gig, I had my own house with a pool and an office with a real window and no blueprints, I had women when I wanted them and, hell, even when I was with Michelle, we had a good thing going while doing it long distance.
If I hadn’t left, Chuck wouldn’t have died. Everything went to shit the moment I left town. Shame on me. Please accept my apologies.
In other news, The Christmas show was a hit and I moved into my buddy Mark’s place. He had a spare room. God bless him, he’s not charging me much for rent since he knows I’m flat broke anyway. I suppose I could have more money if I stopped buying booze and smokes, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t need the money, he was living alone before anyhow. And he seems to understand that the booze and smoke are the only things keeping me from offing myself. You know, immediately. I’m headed for a certain death if I keep this diet up.
How’s by you?
To: thebergman79@hotmail.com
From: neal_hardingphd@yahoo.com
Subject: Re: Booze Versus Rent
Brother, do not blame yourself for Chuck’s death. He was on a course to destruction. If it hadn’t been your house, it would have been someone else’s or the highway or by a policeman’s bullet.
If anything, it’s my fault. I helped you get writing again. I told you to find a pretty, rich blond girl and let her take care of you. That’s on me. Had I known that she would turn out to break your spirit, I wouldn’t have encouraged it.
You still looking for freelance? I wish I knew more editors out there. Whatever happened to your pitch to The Inquisitor? That pizza thing didn’t do any good, huh?
Natalie is pregnant again. It’s perfect timing, too, since I’m thinking of quitting the casino and just writing freelance. Working on my novel. I can’t keep doing this. Chuck had me pretty well protected from the insanity here. The corporate beast is lethargic and very, very stupid. It’s eating away at my brain and my soul. And if I keep eating that employee dining room food, I’m going to have type 2 diabetes within a year. I’m getting too old to be humping a bullshit career like this. And another goddamn beautiful kid on the way. It’s another boy. So there goes my plan to be a stage father to an all-girl hardcore-punk band. But that dream was dashed with the first one. I told that to Natalie. She didn’t think it was funny. She doesn’t laugh at anything I say anymore.
She told me I was a great father. I don’t want to hear that. I want to hear that I’m a swordsman in bed and a great writer. The only sex I’ve had the past year has been for scientific reasons. There’s nothing more attractive than when your wife says, “I’m ovulating.”
Here’s some new advice. Love hard and love true. But don’t ever get married; don’t ever have kids.
Stay strong, I love you, bro.
– Neal
To: neal_hardingphd@yahoo.com
From: thebergman79@hotmail.com
Subject: Re: Re: Booze Versus Rent
Hey, man. The Inquisitor ain’t said shit. The pitch fell on deaf ears. Whatever. It’s fine. Something’ll show itself—I’ve started praying again. That’ll work, right?
Congrats on the pregnancy. That’s what I’m supposed to say, isn’t it? It’ll be good. You love Stephen, you’ll love this kid, too. Natalie has a bright future and a good job, you guys’ll be just fine. A bad sex life is routine, part of the struggle to greatness. Your wife nags you? You’re unhappy with your job? You’re living the American Dream. Or you’re in a sitcom.
Quit the casino. Fuck that place. You need to be writing. Get that novel down on paper.
I imagine Lexi told you that she’s moving here? She found a job within her company and she’s being transferred. It’ll be good to have her around. And I know she needs to be closer to her family in Indy.
Mark is thinking about moving away, too. Transferring to L.A. or New York or something. His company has offices in both places. He wants to focus more on his acting, but unlike his roommate, he’s smart enough not to make the move until he knows he can afford it. Smart guy.
LB.
