“You’re getting there” the voice said. “A little mosquito sized I am, but I have hands, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to touch the buttons on this phone or hold the receiver. I mean, I guess I could figure out a way if I suddenly lost my hands, but I do have them, so I don’t need to learn how to do that.”
”good” I say “that’s good. I’m glad you still have your hands.” There’s an awkward silence, the kind that goes on a bit too long so that you feel a little crazy, like you’re waiting for someone to say something, but they also might be waiting for you to say something, then it starts to get to where you think too hard about it and just want someone to say anything. I say “so how...” right when the voice goes “do you...” I go “sorry, go ahead” the voice says “no, that’s okay, what were you saying again?” I say “I was just wondering what your name is. In my head you’re just the voice on the other end of a tiny phone that I’m not quite sure is really supposed to work. I just jammed it in the wall with some tinfoil like this one dude told me to.”
”you can call me Neiman.”
”Neiman, right, hi Neiman.”
”hello.”
There’s another silence, then Neiman speaks, “so, there’s no Deborah over there? Just asking. She’s the one that usually answers the phone.” “No” I say “no Deborah. I hope she didn’t get caught in the wild building collapse though. You think she’s spry enough on her feet to get on out of a deflating building real quick?” I hear a shuffling of papers on Nieman’s end like he couldn’t care less. “Oh, I’m not really sure. How fast did it go down?” I think. “Um, about pretty fast, a few minutes. I got out just in the nick, but that’s probably because I took... gathered some pieces of office furniture before leaving, otherwise I probably would have gotten out a wee bit faster.”
“Don’t say wee.” Neiman says this like he’s had to say it a thousand times before. “It’s offensive.” “Oh” I say “sorry. I didn’t know. What should I say?”
“I don’t know, just say you got out in time. Stop using the word wee, that’s all.” More shuffling of papers. “Okay, roger, no more saying wee... I mean, that one word that you take offense to. Got it.” I sit down with my back against the wall. “Well” I say “what do you want to talk about now?” Neiman doesn’t answer right away, I hear scribbling “sorry” he says, I was writing something down real quick. What did you say?” I say again “like, since Deborah isn’t here, what do you want to talk about?” “Oh. I hadn’t really thought about it, um, since, you know, I was calling to talk to Deborah and got you instead, so I din’t have anything in particular planned to talk to you about.”
I guess it’s on me then. “Well, what are you doing right now?” Neiman pauses, possibly looking around wherever he is. It sounds like he’s in an office. unless he’s in a waste paper basket somewhere. There sure is a lot of rustling paper wherever he is that’s for sure. “I’m doing some filing type things.” “Oh” I say “what kinds of files” I don’t know what else to say about files. “Just... like the beige ones. I take them and put them in a box, them someone puts more files on my desk, then I take them and put them in boxes like that. then I write little notes on them sometimes. I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to be doing here to tell you the truth.”
“I heard that, brother.” I say. Neiman is quiet again, but I think he’s catching on that we’re having a conversation. His turn. “How about you? What you got going on over there?” I look around, “well” I say “I swept my carpet earlier, and I’ve just been kind of looking out the window from time to time. I might have a snack in a little bit. I haven’t decided on what kind though.” “That’s nice” Neiman says “Look, I have some more files coming into my office right now and one of them is red. that means I need to split and get right on it. The red ones are number one priority you know.” “Oh sure” I say “totally get it. You’re busy with the red files and all, sorry to take up your time.” I start to pull the phone from my ear, but Neiman sighs and says “no, that’s okay, I can stay on the line, I’ll just put you on speakerphone while I do this real quick.”
”that’s okay, I’m bothering you, truth is, I haven’t really talked to anyone in a little while. Well, I yelled something at someone recently, but that’s not really a conversation unless the person you’re talking to has a hearing disability. My grandpa was a steam boat engineer and his hearing went to shit, so I had to yell everything at him, otherwise he would just say ‘huh?’ A lot, then he would get tired of saying ‘huh?’ And just pretend he heard what you said. Kind of hard to tell jokes to someone that is that hard of hearing. Vocal inflections are very important when telling a joke.”
”that makes sense” Neiman says “tall me more about your grandpa.” I hear more shuffling papers so he may not be paying super close attention, but I go on “well, I would mow his lawn every week and clean his gutters for him. He couldn’t get around so good and only had a cat for company who he called the N word when it got rascally. They would watch TV together. The cat’s favorite show was when the Discovery channel would put on shark shows. Grandpa would invite me over sometimes and give me a big glass of what he called ‘the Diego red’ which was just red wine mixed with Arizona sun tea.”
”that sounds disgusting” Neiman says. “I guess so. He’s gone now. Just up and left without telling anyone where he was going. Probably moved to a large state with outback’s and mountains to be with his true love.”
”you think so?” Asks Neiman “that would be really something” “yeah” I say “I think he did that.” “I like that” Neiman says “just up and left. they call that a French exit. Did you know that?” “No” I say “but have you ever heard of an Irish bubble bath?” Neiman says he has, but that it’s discriminatory to tell jokes about people that have to share bath water. “Okay, sorry I asked, Jeeze.” Neiman goes quiet. “What are you doing right now?”
”talking to you on a tiny phone I guess?” “So nothing? Nothing going on over there? You got any plans later?” I say “well, just hanging up this phone at some point, then maybe clicking on the ‘ol tube to see what all comes up. Have you ever watched the goat show?” “No” he says “what’s the goat show?”
”oh man” I say “it’s the craziest shit you’ve ever seen. They keep sneaking in goats between commercials, then the last scene shows a dude that snuck in amongst them, and they didn’t even know it! Wildest shit I’ve ever seen!”
”that’s the wildest shit you’ve ever seen?” Neiman asks. “Well. On TV. yeah.” Neiman sounds like he’s thinking. “You sound like an alright guy. Are you an alright guy?” I look at my arms and brush some lint off my pants “yeah. I think so?”
”well, let me tell you something. Since Deborah isn’t around to answer that phone, do you want a job?” “IIIIIII really don’t think I’m cut out for working. You mean like, coming in every day to a place and doing things all around there in the place?”
”not really” Neiman says “you got the phone plugged into your wall at home, right?” “Yeah” I say “well, then you wouldn’t have to leave. I mean, you might have to leave every once in a while, but on only very special occasions. I think I had Deborah go out and do something like, one a year. she would just answer the phone when it walled ring, and since I’m the only other person with a phone that can call your phone, I’m the only one she had to talk to. Easy easy, right?”
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”sounds easy enough I guess. But I’m not really looking for a job at the moment...” Neiman scoffs, “neither was I, but what I’m doing is a joke. I just put things in boxes, and they pay me like, a lot.” “Yeah?” I say “like how much? Like a hundred dollars or something?” Neiman says “let’s just say that my shoes don’t have holes in them and I don’t have to order off the dollar menu at McDonalds.” “Fair enough” I say. Neiman goes on “the only real work I have to do is when one of these red files comes across my desk. Top of the pile it goes, like I told you. Number one priority. First thing I do is call up Deborah, tell her about the file, and she does something on her end.”
”what does she do?” I ask. “Whatever the red file tells her to do. I think the last time we got one she had to run over to a local feed shop and dump a handful of salt into one of the feed bags. I don’t know what for, but we both get a bonus the faster the red file is taken care of.”
”That’s weird. What do the other files say? The beige ones?” “Mostly nothing, just a bunch of boring numbers and some words inside, like this one: 88499 cobra shit Santa Clara Bahama mama”
”you think it’s some kind of code or something?” I say excitedly “are you like a secret agent? top secret agent? I promise I won’t tell anyone.” “No, far as I can tell, someone is throwing random words into a file and sometimes they come out in an order that makes sense. Someone else marks those a red files, and whatever is in them has to be done for some reason. maybe like a scientific experiment?”
”oh hell yeah!” I say “even better then secret agent shit! Sneaky experiments. Probably got a thousand chimps picking words at random. Probably testing to see if they have ESP or something cool like that. Quick! what am I thinking about right now?” Neiman pauses “A toaster?” “Nope! But close! Pretty darn close! Wow!” “What were you thinking about?” He asks
”I was thinking about a banana, but bananas go in the kitchen, and toasters also go in the kitchen. I see the connection. You and me. We’re bonded in the head already.”
“Maybe so.” Neiman sounds skeptical. “Do you want Debora’s job?” “Hell yeah I do!” I say. “Okay then, you’re hired. Repeat after me: I’ll answer the phone” I repeat. “I’ll do what the red files say” I repeat. “That’s it” I repeat. “No, you don’t have to repeat that part. that was all. Just the last part with the files is where it ended.” “Oh, okay” I say. “You’ll be paid once you complete the red file task. Someone will leave you some dollar bills somewhere where you’ll find them. Probably around your apartment or something. One time, Deborah found her dollars in a flower pot in a waiting room in a doctor’s office, so you have to be on the lookout. Any money you find is your payment. Don’t turn it in to the cops, like as a good citizen. That’s your hard earned paycheck, see?” I see “hot mamma!” I say “when do I start?” “Well” Neiman says “how about right now? I got this hot little red file just sitting in front of me, waiting to be opened.” “Gimme them deets Neiman, I’m ready for a hot payday.”
”my man. Here it comes.” I hear a fwawp sound of a folder being opened, then a silence as he reads it. “You may want to get a pen or something to jot this down, it’s kind of a long one. Longest one I’ve ever seen.” “Sure, just one second.” I pull the phone out of my ear and scramble around, looking for something to write with. All I can come up with is a washable marker that I found a while back. That’ll have to do. I run back to the phone and shove the handset back into my ear. “Okay, go ahead” He starts to read off the red folder and I realize I forgot to grab something to write on. Fuck it, this is a washable marker. I write it down on the back of the couch as he reads it off. “Slop chili cement. Wheel run chili. Chili dog bark.” I finish writing and read it back to him. “Yep” He says “that’s all. Don’t forget to get it done as fast as possible. No need to call me when you’re done, they’ll send someone in to put a stamp on the red file. Then it goes to the red file stamp box. that’s my job. Putting it in the red file stamped box.”
“I don’t have your number, Neiman. What if I can’t do...” I read the last sentence “chili dog bark?” I’ll call you back and we can talk about it then. You shouldn’t have any trouble though. Okay, that’s it. Good luck. Try to have it done by the end of the day today.” The line goes dead. I pull the phone out of my ear. Fuck yeah! Got me a work from home type job! I read the words again. They don’t make any sense to me. Shit. I’m going to get fukkin’ fired on my first day. What would Deborah do? I don’t know. I’ve never met her. I wonder how she knew to throw a handful of salt into a feed bag at a feed shop? I read the words again. Chili was in all three sentences. I have chili. I open the cupboard and place it on the counter. Okay. Next. Wheel. Dog. Cement. That’s all the things outside, all kinds of things have wheels, lot’s of dogs, lots of cement out there. Got those then. Bark. Run. Slop. Do I bark? Probably not. That would be the dog’s job. Slop. That has to be my job. Run? I guess I can run, but I think running is the wheel’s job.
Okay. So my job is to slop, the dog’s job is to bark, and the wheel’s job is to run. Easy enough. I open the can of chili and give it a sniff. It’s my favorite kind, the kind without the beans. I like to eat up a lot of chili with the fake meat in it. It sounds weird, but I like the way the fake meat squeezes between my teeth, no chewy parts, just zesty red lumps. I have to do my job though. I double check. Yep. Just sloppin’ time I guess.
I walk outside with the open can of chili, looking for cement. It’s everywhere, but where will wheels be on it? The road, runnin’ on the road. I scan for dogs, but I don’t see any. There’s probably some around here, I’ve seen a few taking off like hellcats with their leashes still fixed to their collars. Runnin’ away from their boring masters who don’t let them eat cat poop and roll around in leaking dumpster water.
I walk out to the street. I slop the chili on the cement, then I step back to the sidewalk, observing my sloppings from afar. Looks pretty sloppy. I go back inside and watch out the window. Here comes a car. Yeah! Wheel goes right on through the chili. That’s two jobs done. I wait anxiously. I don’t see any dogs around, but maybe one will catch a sniff of the chili and come running. There it is! A fat little Yorkshire terrier. I bet he’s a chili eatin’ sonofagun. He had to have packed on them pounds from somewhere. He starts lapping up the chili, then a seagull comes flying in, probably thinking the smear of chili was a squashed bag of fast food or something. Coming in hot for a taste. It lands next to the dog and spreads it’s wings menacingly. The dog barks at it and the seagull flys away, sounding pissed. That’s three. Got all three already! I pump my fist. Where’s the loot though? Where’s my sweet workin’ loot? I look around the apartment, but I don’t think it works that way. Probably I have to come across it somehow.
The dog is still lapping up the chili on the street, heedless of the cars zooming and honking at it. That fat boy is going to need the jaws of life to part him from that chili. I know how he feels. I cross my arms and keep watching him, satisfied that my first job went so well. and it only took me, like, four minutes to do it! I’m the best at this job. I wonder if they’ll give me a promotion already, seeing as how I got it done so fast. The dog is done eating the chili now, but is still working his tongue in between cracks on the road, getting up every last drop of that good stuff. He looks up at me and licks his chops. I keep standing there, watching him watch me. He does a little waddle trot onto the sidewalk, then begins to retch. He’s heaving like a sonofabitch. I can hear him gagging out there. Gross. The chili starts spraying out of him like someone stomped on a rubber hot water bottle filled with, well, chili. Everything seems to have come out, but he gives one more giant heave, and out comes a lump of something. It looks like a plastic bag. No wonder he was puking all over the place. Eating plastic bags. What a dummy. The dog trots off, but not before taking a little pee on one of the trees outside my apartment.
I’m disgusted and curious at the same time. I grab a fork from my silverware drawer and head out there. I can’t believe I’m going to do this. I take a poke at the plastic bag. There’s something in there. I look around, but there’s no one to see. I peel back the plastic a bit with the fork, then I see some green paper. Money. My first paycheck. I need to celebrate.