Baxter & Hilda

A week goes by easily before Martin really snaps back to reality. He goes through cycles like this, periods of frequent socialization followed by stalwart reclusiveness. Martin usually ends up telling people he spent the time writing jokes or funny articles, but truthfully a lot of the time is dedicated to tasting beer and tastefully engaging in the ancient tradition of porn-watching. Sometimes he thinks about how well-off he might be if he were actually doing work, but he always finds this train of thought too depressing and abandons it. By this time one of his friends has hopefully contacted him and invited him to do something.

Today’s reality comes in the form of a call from Hilda. “Hi!”

“Hey.”

“What are you doing today?” she asks. Martin looks around the apartment. Ray is gone. Martin’s wearing stained pajamas. He was hoping he’d see something in the immediate vicinity to use as an excuse, but he’s feeling uninspired.

“Nothing yet. What do you want me to do?”

“You say that like I want you to come move furniture.” Martin smiles.

“No no, I just mean... Look, why would you ask me what I’m doing unless you have an idea for me?”

“I guess I wouldn’t. It’s not like you ever do anything interesting.” Blah. Fuck you, Dilda. Oh damn. Martin wishes he had actually said that, but it’s too late now. Already used up.

“Blah.” Damn it! He said the stupid thing.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought. You wanna come hang out at my place?” The rage slowly builds in Martin as he realizes he’s becoming aroused at the thought of hanging out with Hilda. Not cool, Lil Horatio.

“I guess so. What are we going to do?” Please don’t be ambiguous.

“I don’t know. We could watch a movie or something. I just figured we hadn’t seen each other in a while. I’ve been too busy with work, and I guess you’ve been busy doing whatever it is you do.”

“Sorry, I was catching up on my articles.” See?

“Well just come over whenever you feel like it, though preferably before I go to bed.”

“What? It’s not even noon.”

“I know. See you soon!” Hmm. Martin is concerned about the consequences of re-socializing himself, but this sort of paranoia comes around every time he breaks cover and gets back out into the world.

He takes the time to clean himself and get something to eat before he makes his way to Hilda’s residence. A car sitting out front startles him. It’s familiar in a way that Martin can’t place. He knocks lightly on Hilda’s door.

The door swings open. “Oh wow, you got here fast.” Hilda’s hair is green with thin strips of purple. It looks...good. Too good.

“Yeah, everybody knows I come quickly,” Martin says sullenly. “I brought beer, by the way.”

Hilda seems confused. “For us? Do you always drink in the middle of the day?”

“I’ll drink anytime that it’s part of the day. Or night, I guess. Can I come in?” Hilda steps out of the way so that Martin can come inside. He is immediately assaulted by a bear of a man who’d been standing just out of sight. “Jesus Christ, Bax, put me down. I’m going to drop the beer!”

“Oh, whoa whoa.” Baxter sets Martin back down on floor. “Wouldn’t want to waste alcohol, eh? How have you been, Martin?”

“I was fine until you crushed my ribcage. Actually, I was pretty good until you crushed my ribcage. Thanks, Bax.” Baxter is about the same height as Martin, but he has quite a bit on Martin in terms of pounds and muscle and facial hair.

“Aw, you’re so sweet, Marty.” Blech. No. Shut up, Baxter.

“Give any good sermons lately? I’m sure my spirit could use a tune-up.” Baxter laughs. Hilda gets visibly angry, though it might just be playful. Horatio likes to think it’s playful.

“Stop it, guys. It’s not funny.”

“Yeah? Prove it, Miss Scientist USA.” Hilda yanks the six-pack from Martin and storms off to the kitchen. Martin turns to Baxter. “I’m an asshole.”

“I love assholes!” yells Baxter, arms in the air.

“What are you guys talking about?” shouts Hilda from the kitchen. At this point she’s already regretting inviting Martin over to hang out with her and Baxter.

“Your brother loves anal play!” replies Martin, and Baxter follows up with “I really do!”

Hilda comes back from the kitchen with a look of disgusted sadness. “There are some things you just don’t want to know about your older brother.”

Martin turns to Baxter. “So tell me more about your love of assholes.”

Hilda sighs.

Tammy the Genius

Martin wakes to pain all around his upper body. All around his entire body is Ian’s kitchen. The floor is not very comfortable. Someone is kicking him.

“...What?” He looks up, but not very far. Leanne is standing over him, and she looks very much half-asleep herself.

“Get out of the way. I need coffee.” Martin groans as he sits up, then pulls himself up using the counter.

“What makes you think Ian keeps any food in this place? These cupboards are probably all filled with underwear.” He recalls seeing Ian’s genitals in roughly the same place he’s currently standing and shivers.

“Underwear? He has to eat something,” says Leanne, though she is becoming more and more frustrated with each cabinet she opens that is filled with either clothing or nothing. “Oh, come on.”

“I told you.”

“Shut up.” More cabinets, drawers, but still nothing even remotely edible. Leanne is flummoxed by the presence of a coffee maker.

“Look, I’m sorry about last night. I am an asshole, yes, but I’m usually a bit more restrained than that.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not like I haven’t been short all my life. I’ve heard it all before.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Leanne looks up at Martin with lips pursed so tight they could cut off the circulation to an ant’s penis. “No.”

“Sorry, really. Why don’t you let me buy you a coffee? There must be a place nearby.” Begrudgingly, Leanne decides to accept the offer.

“Sure, but I was going to meet my friend Tammy for breakfast. Can you be civil if she meets up with us?”

Martin slouches. “I just want you to know that I don’t always enjoy my reputation. The constant questioning of my ability to be a decent human being gets a little grating after a while.”

“So...yes? No?”

Sigh. “Yes.”

Leanne tells Martin that there’s a coffee shop a couple of blocks away, so she calls Tammy and they head over. Martin tries to ignore the quality of the neighborhood. “So hey, any idea what all these welts are from? I don’t remember anything from after we started playing.” The pain Martin felt on his upper body was a number of small welts and a handful of strange smaller marks on his arms. “And what are these, burns?”

“Uh...I don’t think so. How would you have gotten burned?” Leanne deflects.

“I don’t know. That’s kind of the point. I figured if-“

“The welts are from when we started throwing dice at each other. They were supposed to be spells, but then we got angry. You were throwing dice at GM and saying, ‘Stop hitting myself!’”

“Oh man. What happened to him? I didn’t see him or Ian anywhere.”

“GM went to work. I have no idea where Ian goes.”

Martin is confused. “Don’t you and Gay Martin work together?”

“Ehh, fuck it. I’ll just tell them I was there all morning.”

“Yeah, not like they would have seen you walking around anyway.” Leanne punches and kicks Martin.

When they get to the coffee shop, Martin buys himself and Leanne coffee, then Tammy shows up. Tammy is probably a foot taller than Leanne, blonde, and seems to be in good shape. She gives Leanne a quick hug.

“Oh, Tammy, this is Martin.” They shake hands.

“Yeah, I’m her pimp.”

“Martin!” shouts Leanne.

“I didn’t realize you were getting back into the business!” says Tammy, seeming genuinely surprised.

“Wow.” Martin is already so pleased with how things are going. “You used to be a prostitute?” he asks Leanne.

“No. Tammy’s just playing along with your stupid joke.”

“It wasn’t stupid.”

“I thought it was funny,” says Tammy.

“Please don’t encourage him, T.”

“Whatever,” says Martin, sliding down in his chair.

Tammy is slightly confused by the tension. “So Leanne, how’s Mel doing?”

“Okay. The billboards are all up now. I think she’s just worried about what guys will think when they see her in a diaper.”

Martin perks up. “Wait wait, who’s Mel?”

Leanne sighs. “My sister, Carmela.”

“And she’s the one on those diaper billboards?!”

“Yes.”

“Man. Well I don’t think she has anything to worry about. The first time I saw one of those I was like ‘Huh, never thought I’d be attracted to a girl in a diaper.’”

“I guess she’ll be glad to hear that.”

Tammy looks focused on Martin. “So Martin, what do you do?”

“Stand-up. I’m a comic.”

“Oh, well that explains the jokes. Do you do a lot of shows?” Why did the jokes need explanation? Is everyone who tells jokes a comedian for a living?

“Not a lot, I suppose. I’m still kind of an amateur, but you gotta work your way up.”

“Hmm. Well good luck with that.”

“What do you do?”

“Me?” Tammy seems pleased to have the attention on her at last. “I’m involved with a lot of things. Right now my big project is real estate. I’ve got a lot of warehouse lots for sale, if you’re interested.”

Martin looks at Leanne in an attempt to figure out who Tammy’s talking to. “Me?” he says, clearly mocking Tammy from a few seconds ago.

Tammy nods. “Yeah, absolutely. Have you ever thought about what you could do with a warehouse?” Martin is suddenly unimpressed with Tammy.

“I haven’t, no. There’s not a lot to think about. They’re just big open buildings.”

“That’s not true! I’ve come up with a lot of ways someone like you could use a warehouse. Tell him, Leanne.”

Leanne looks quite uncomfortable. “Yeah, uh, Tammy’s pretty smart. She and her husband have been thinking up ways to convert warehouses into grocery stores and schools.”

“That’s why I go by Tammy the Genius.” Martin nearly spits out his coffee. “Are you okay?” asks Tammy, looking quite concerned.

He wipes his face. “I...did you just say ‘Tammy the Genius?’”

“Uh huh.”

“Martin...” says Leanne, wary of what he might say.

“How many of these warehouse properties are adjacent to one another?”

“Oh, all of them. They’re just one long lot that’s been broken up,” says Tammy.

“Then how do you plan to have more than one grocery store and school in that area? Do they even all have street access?” Martin asks.

“What? There are eight warehouses, Martin. We could have five of each if we wanted.” There’s a pause. Leanne is scared that saying something might provoke Martin, not that he needs further provocation. “And plus we can always make streets if they don’t touch streets.” Another pause.

“So Tammy, are you any good at math?” asks Martin.

“Yeah, really good, but what does-“

“Can you tell me what the square root of 196 is?”

“I...don’t think that you can take the square root of an even number, Martin. Is that a trick question?”

“It’s fourteen.”

“That sounds right,” says Leanne, hoping to end discussion.

“Hmm. I disagree.” Tammy the Genius is quite sure the even numbers do not have square roots.

“Uhh...” Martin’s brain is telling him a lot of things at this point, so he feels the strong urge to just run away from the situation. “Oh shit. Leanne, I just remembered that I need to drop something off for my roommate before he goes to work.”

“Oh, okay.” She’s relieved, even if he’s lying.

“Wait, let me give you my business card before you go in case you know anyone interested in developing those properties.” Tammy quickly whips out one of her cards and hands it to Martin. It reads “Tammy the Genius, Real Estate and Etc.” Martin laughs most of the way back to his car.

When he gets there, Martin checks his phone. He notices a text from an hour earlier. It’s from Ian. “Are you in any position to be making demands?” Martin texts back: “You. Are. Crazy.” Ian replies immediately: “Oh, and don’t let Leanne light any of my stuff on fire. Water damage is okay, but I have a thing about flames.” Martin yawns despite the caffeine in his brain. “Sorry. Your house burned down. I’m driving to Mexico. Goodbye forever.”

The next text surprises Martin. “You do realize I can see you.” Martin looks around for a few seconds before he sees Ian in one of the front windows of his house, holding back the curtains. His eyes are wide and terrifying. Martin slowly puts his keys in the ignition and starts the car. He sends one last text back to Ian. “Please don’t have children.”