Sergio De La Pava - A Naked Singularity

“Angus in there?”

“He is.”

“He’s watching The Honeymooners right? I’m telling you, the whole thing’s getting a little weird I don’t know if—”

“He’s not watching it.”

“He’s not?”

“No, I think he said he was taking a short break.”

“Well thank our good friend God for that at least. I mean it man. First he tapes them all sans commercials, of all things, and now he just plays them in a constant loop. I can’t believe I was encouraging him at first. It’s that damned carousel man. There’s no stopping for air, it’s truly constant.”

“Casio makes some device huh?”

“You mean Sony.”

“I could’ve sworn he said Casio Carousel. I’m always alert to all alliteration.”

“Right.”

“The Casio Carousel?”

“Yeah made by Sony.”

“But it says Casio?”

“Right, it’s the latest new and improved thing. It’s actually quite beautiful in its subterfuge. It’s called cross-pollination. Sony made the product all right, but for an outlandish fee they allowed Casio to put their name on it. Casio’s happy because they have their name associated with a great new product. Sony’s happy because they get to add this monstrous fee to their already massive profits.”

“But people don’t know it’s made by Sony?”

“Oh it’s in there but writ tiny and you have to know where to look. After all, Casio has to get bang for its buck.”

“But doesn’t Sony want the credit?”

“What for? They’re already the unquestioned leaders in the field. There’s really nothing more they can do to gain prestige and remember that the fee is outlandish.”

“But aren’t they helping a competitor?”

“Arguably, but not really enough to affect their own position in the marketplace. If anything, Casio may now hurt other healthier competitors in turn dropping the worth of those companies and maybe positioning them to be engulfed by Sony. I guess I exaggerated before. The more I think of it, the constant loop isn’t that bad. Come in, I’ll show you what I mean.”

“No I have to go,” I said.

“By the way, cold enough for you? That’s my new thing. I take the weather, no matter what it is, and ask if it’s enough for you.”

“Good luck with that but did you happen to see a really old shirtless man out there?”

“What does he look like?”

“What does he look like? It’s an old-timer wearing no shirt in five degree weather, how many of them are there?”

“Never saw him. Don’t worry, he’ll be out there for a limited time only, that’s for sure.”

“What do you know about it?”

“Well I’m no doctor but it seems to me that a dude that old, in that cold, without a shirt, will likely be dead before the sun comes up.”

“Dead? What then?”

“Huh?”

“I mean he’s obviously homeless, no family or anything. What do they do with the body?”

“Speaking of, I never got the chance to ask you what you think of Traci.”

“I think she just left for one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she left about ten minutes ago.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Fuck. I fucked up. I’m fucked!”

“Sorry.”

“Wait a fucking minute. Are you fucking with me?”

“No.”

“Because if you’re fucking with me, fucking tell me.”

“I’m not fucking with you.”

“Look if you are fucking with me, I’m going to ask you to fucking tell me that you’re fucking fucking with me because there’s nothing worse than being fucked with and not fucking knowing it, or even the fucking opposite which is not being fucked with but having fucking residual doubt as to whether or not you’re being fucked with.”

“Listen to me closely. I’m not fucking fucking with you you fuck.”

“And you’re fucking sure?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“Fuck!”

Witnessed years back in a courtroom:

“You want the newspaper?”

“ El newspaper, you wanneh?”

“You want the periodico or no?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I’ll visit you tomorrow, sí .”

“But what do I do with the newspaper?”

Overheard that day in a different but oddly similar courtroom:

“So I’m sent out to Part 49. Who’s that?”

“McGarrity.”

“How’s he?”

“Not bad, tried a case in front of him. He lets you try your case but he’s pretty dumb on the law.”

“Let’s you voir dire?”

“Only because he’s not really paying attention. That said, if any legal issues arise, he’ll reflexively rule against you unless you tape the controlling case to his forehead or something similar.”

“Wait, did I hear not bad ? I beg to differ.”

“You’ve had him too?”

“Once was enough.”

“What happened?”

“Well I’m expecting it to come back down on appeal any day now.”

“Why? What’s the issue?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“What’s rather not say ? I’ve known you twenty years!”

“What’s twenty years? I’d rather not say. I never even told my wife about this.”

“You hate your wife.”

“Exactly, she barely qualifies as a person in my eyes and I still couldn’t bring myself to tell her about this. That’s how painfully embarrassing it was.”

“That settles it, now you absolutely have to tell me what happened in that case.”

“You would force me to regurgitate a painful, traumatic memory? For Chrissakes, you’ve known me twenty years!”

“Listen, this entire situation is now clearly outside the bounds of morality. First of all, everyone who knows you, whether for twenty years or otherwise, knows you to be a superb raconteur, a master storyteller. Joe, what kind of storyteller is Ronny here?”

“Master.”

“Precisely. Now in addition to this skill you possess, you dangle the carrot of an incident so deliciously embarrassing that years later you still can’t bring yourself to relate it? Well what kind of friend are you to offer then rescind such entertainment? Haven’t the last twenty years meant anything to you?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be starting a trial?”

“What do you think I’m doing? Researching the judge that’s what.”

“Well I get paid to help with legal research.”

“Oh is that so? Well of course then Ronald my good man. Here’s a hundred. Now that’s more than you made last month so make it good.”

“Well I tried the case.”

“What kind of case?”

“Rob One.”

“Co-defendant?

“No.”

“Gun?”

“Knife”

“I.D. or what-happened?”

“What-happened, prostitution-gone-bad but really none of that matters.”

“Continue Ronald.”

“Well the evidence is over and now McGarrity’s smiling at the jury — he always smiles when addressing the jury — and he’s like, We now come to the point in the trial where we hear the attorneys’ summations and he’s looking at me. So I go up there but I don’t feel very well at all.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Well I had dropped my daughter off at school the night before and—”

“How is Theresa?”

“Katie.”

“Right, how is she?”

“Not good but it’s either blow all my money on her school or put her in a rehab clinic, institutions which incidentally take the ripping off of money to unprecedented almost-artistic heights. You know they won’t even guarantee results?”

“Why didn’t you come to me Ron? I’ve got the best place. Serenity Mountain or some shit. These people are great, you’ll never use anyone else. We put Julie in there and we swear by it.”