Volume 2, Number 6 -- June, 1997
| |
Volume 2, Number 6 -- June, 1997 |
 
|
Blood Poisoning - Part Iby Greg Tennant
- 1 -
Mud. Black thick sticky mud, and a bearded face just barely peeking
up through the surface. Someone's stuck here.
The mud-streaked eyelids open. Droopy, dreary eyes look out from
the depths of a hot-springs mud bath.
With a deep tired breath, the face rises from the pit and a body
appears. Mr. Will Geist, 25 years old, lifts himself out of the murk.
In a tiled shower stall, four other showerheads silently watching,
Will waits for the mud to wash slowly off his naked body. This fella's
got a monkey on his back the size of a mountain gorilla. Poor chap.
As he stands in front of a mirror a few minutes later, bloodshot
eyes staring back at him, feeling sorry for himself, he makes a decision:
The beard's got to come off. It's ragged, it's long, and he looks like
a god damned hippie. And after that his hair's getting cut.
The straight razor grazing over his fingertips tells him so. "I
wonder just how much pressure it would take for this blade to actually
separate the skin molecules holding it back from the blood and muscle
inside". Obviously if he were to add a sliding motion it would divide
his fingerprints, but if he were just to push gently downward, evenly,
like he is right now...
- 2 -
Today is the first day of Will's new job. He's clean-cut, dressed
in a tie, smelling crisp, and barely recognizable as the slouch in the
mud puddle.
He's picked himself up a job in a financial consulting company. They
advise banks and credit unions on how to make their investments. He has a
business degree. Studied something else in college, tried to work for a bit,
then went back to graduate school and lived the life of a hermit, finishing
the program in half the regular time. Blazing. Picked up some habits in
that time, like a penchant for straight tequila and cubes of aloe vera,
dripping with juice.
Anyway today is the first day of the job. He's met the president, he's
met the personnel lady. Had several interviews, impressed them with his
knowledge and his focus. "Here's your desk, Will". "Great. Thanks a lot".
"This is your neighbor, Jason Brigman". "Pleasure to meet you". "Jason
can show you the ropes on the computer filing system". "Fine, thanks".
"Good to have you aboard". "Lovely to be here".
So Jason pulls up a chair. Someone passes by & says hi to him.
A woman.
Will suffers a moment of blood poisoning. This pretty woman passes by
and flashes a friendly smile, says nothing but "Hi" to Jason in a cheery way
and glances once at Mr. Will Geist just to see who this new face is. She
doesn't stop, because they are busy and she is busy too.
Jason starts talking about the computer. A moment later Will is
listening to him again.
At the filling station. The refreshment station, that is. Will is here
to see what the vending machines have to offer. He'd like a drink;
he's here to see what there is available: coffee, tea bags, soda pops. V-8
juice. Two quarters swishing back and forth over each other in his fingers.
If you do this fast enough, it looks like you've got three. Clever little
magic trick.
He looks out the window, too. Tall building, a floor somewhere in the
teens, downtown looking out at other tall buildings. Just like the big town.
It is the big town, in fact. A big town.
The door opens. Well what do you know about that, it's that attractive
young lady who went by earlier today. She's coming in with a coffee mug.
"Hi," she says to him, in exactly that same cheery friendly way.
He smiles. "Hi," he says back.
She takes an herbal tea bag and tears it open. Now she's about to
introduce herself. Will can tell his blood's about to get poisoned again.
There's no helping it. Blood poisoning is a vile and ugly disease; there's
no recourse, no remedy. Unless you want to completely change your blood
supply, like Keith Richards has done twice in his life, blood so poisoned by
heroin like it was. The man lived on heroin, and his blood got so choked by
the chemistry that he was like a storm drain in a major city after a
rainstorm. Pour the stuff out, fill 'er up with a brand new load,
safety-sealed from the factory for your protection, freshness guaranteed.
"Are you new?" she asks.
"Fresh out of the box," he answers, with a minor ironic smile.
"They just cut off my tags at the front door."
Yes, she recognizes the cleverness in his quip. She answers with a half
smile of her own. "Still wet behind the ears, eh?" she quips back at him.
He reaches up and checks. Pretends to flick a bead of moisture from his
fingertip. His fingers snap loudly as they flop together, tossing that large
drop away. Tee-hee.
She goes to the tap beside the tap, the one that says "190&176; steaming hot
water," and fills up her mug over the tea bag.
"What's your name?" she asks.
"Will Geist."
"Welcome to the company."
"Thank you. And you are?"
"Cassia Cooper."
"Accounts reviewing."
"That's right," she says. He already knows.
How wretched. He's already checked her out, and now she knows he's
interested. Well, that's information for your little file, Ca |