The Musings of Oneil and Co.

Part One

True Story (continued)

As Jack goes to relieve himself I take a look around the Tim Horton’s. There are kids studying, a homeless man dozing in the corner and a gay Chinese couple holding hands. That Jihadist-looking Terrorist was outside smoking a cigarette scanning us Western filth. There is a look of disgust on his face. I realize I’m staring at him and he stares right back at me. Cool. And then he looks away. Apparently he was waiting for his friend. Another suspicious-looking male of Middle-Eastern Muslim Jihadist descent comes up to him and they start talking. I wish I could read lips.They take furtive glances into the well-lit Tim Hortons.

I did not like what was going down. It just didn’t look right. Where was Jack?

I walked over to the entrance and picked up the mop. Time to find out what was going on.

* * *

Ring Ring. Ring Ring

“Yeah!”

Ferris was delivering baked goods for Tim Horton’s and he was late. His dinner break had gone on too long and he didn’t accomplish his objective. Nailing that broad who was some kind of Mexican was going to take a bit more work. And he was drunk. Luckily enough for him there weren’t too many idiots on the road at 11:26pm. He could maybe gas another 10 clicks before any dumbass cop pulled him over. This neighbourhood was quiet and had pretty much all gone to sleep. He figured he could answer his phone now since he was only a couple of blocks away from his next drop.

“Isn’t she?” Ferris was talking to his buddy Moshe from Accounting.

“She is like so frakkin’ hot, I almost don’t believe it. But wait, do you know what is she? She looks like Spanish, but she could be Mexican, I don’t know.”

“She’s what? Iranian? No, man you’re shittin’ me.”

Honk! Honk! Honk!!

“Some idiot is standing in the middle of the street. GET OUT OF THE WAY YOU MORON! Jesus Christ, he won’t move!

Honk!! Honk!!

Ferris dropped his phone and put both hands on the wheel. He’s over the yellow line now but the man with the death wish follows him.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?!?!”

At the other end of the phone Moshe hears screeching, glass breaking, Ferris cursing and metal meeting metal.

“Ferris?”

* * *

5 minutes ago …

Mohammed couldn’t believe all his worlds were crashing down on him at the same time. It was over. It was definitely over and he didn’t know what to do. Janet was having his baby whether he wanted it or not. Janet was also divorcing her husband, Wayne, whom Mohammed had looked up to for many years. Her plan was for them to be together and love each other and their new baby without Wayne. Wayne had become so abusive lately with all his failed projects and Janet had fallen into Mohammed’s arms. And he needed her. She had helped him through his recuperation, his emotional and physical therapy.

Was it just another Night Nurses fantasy? Did he truly love her?

He slid on his walking sandals then turned out the light to his apartment and locked the door behind him. He walked slowly down the hall, giving a quick smile to the cat that was always locked out and walked down the stairs to the ground floor.

He did love her. But he didn’t want to be with her this way. Their forbidden dalliances motivated him to continue treatment. What she wanted now was the mundane drudgery of domesticated life.

“No. No way,” he said to himself as he opened the fire door to the street. The street was quiet. He crossed the sidewalk and squeezed between two parked cars to get to the middle of the street.

“Has everyone gone to bed?” he asked anyone within earshot. He heard an engine roar in the distance which sounded like a truck or bus or Ford Expedition.

Mohammed looked around and saw that there were still people in Tim Hortons and people outside smoking.

He smiled. “Everything is going to be copacetic,” he thought to himself.

Part 3 coming to you 31 July 2008