Munmun(69)

Bill got up too fast, teetertottered for a second and everyone gasped and shrieked, we all thought he was going to crash and kill some of us. But he stayed on his feet and shakily walked into the sea.

He was in to about his ankleknobs when he dropped his pants and squatted, naturecalled.

“WARREN, I WOULD HATE TO HAVE YOUR JOB,” deadpanned calm Mark, it was funny but everyone laughed way too hard, slapping each other and staggering around, loudest was Markthree.

“I am truly gratefull for your patience and understanding, sir,” barked Warren, then he murmured into his headset, “I need boats in the water, shallowboats and nets, it’s a codetwelve, go go go.”

Mark’s chief of staff was a threescale named Heather, she quietly tapped Markfive on the shoulder as we sat and watched Famous Randy dance and sweat through his sixth straight hour of performance as dozens of acrobats set themselves on fire and jumped over his head.

“Markfive, sir, I hope it’s a goodtime, your father invites you to a private audience so that you may pay birthday respects,” murmured Heather.

“Great,” said drunk and druggy Markfive. “Can I bring one of my friends?”

“Again, it is a private audience, and I’m sure Mark would prefer to speak with you oneonone,” suggested Heather.

“Nodoubt he would,” said Markfive, lifting me onto his shoulders like a chickenfight, I pretended not to be terrified.

Conveyorbelts helped us along to Mark’s study, an arenaroom with clouded ceiling, desk the size of Hue Family House, curtains billowing like shipsails in the nightbreeze.

Mark lounged on a vast floormat in a robe woven from ropes.

“HELLO, SON,” said Mark.

“Hi, Dad,” said Markfive. “This is Warner bytheway, he’s my friend, used to be littlepoor which is freaking nuts when you think about it.”

“HELLO, WARNER,” said Mark.

“Happy birthday sir,” I screamed, terrified he would have to say what, thankgod he didn’t.

“THANK YOU,” he said, leaning the great head down to us like a crashing moon. “MARKFIVE, LET ME LOOK AT YOU. LOOK UP AT MY FACE. LOOK UP, SON. THERE YOU GO. YOU’RE REALLY A HANDSOME YOUNG MAN, YOU KNOW THAT? ALTHOUGH YOU LOOK TIRED, MAYBE A LITTLE PALE. ARE YOU GETTING EVERYTHING YOU NEED?”

“Sure, fine, whatever,” said Markfive, immediately around his dad his voice gets high and whiny.

Mark nodded, waiting for more, not getting it.

Then he said, “IN SOME WAYS YOU’RE SO MUCH LIKE I WAS AS A TEEN. IT ALWAYS MAKES ME SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU. EVEN IF YOU CAN’T DRESS RESPECTFULLY OR OBEY CERTAIN BASIC RULES OF ETIQUETTE.”

“Are you wasted or something,” said wasted Markfive.

“HA HA HA,” laughed Mark, rumbling the floor, “WOULDN’T THAT BE NICE. YOU KNOW I CAN’T EVEN GET CLOSE TO DRUNK. IT TAKES SUCH A VOLUME JUST TO GET TIPSY.”

“I’m pretty sure the strongest shit Mark Drug Co sells could get you pretty messed up though,” said Markfive. “Like whaletranks, I’m sure you could get wasted on a couple of those.”

“LITTLE FIVE,” said Mark, losing intrest in the wastedness convo, “I HAVE SOMETHING I WANT TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT. YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN SUCH A SMART KID, SO BRIGHT AND SO QUICK, JUST LIKE I WAS AT YOUR AGE, I FORGET IF I SAID THAT ALREADY. ANYWAY THE SKY IS TRULY THE LIMIT FOR YOU. BUT RECENTLY YOU HAVE SEEMED DISENGAGED TO ME, CONTENT TO LET YOUR MIND GO A LITTLEBIT TO WASTE, FINE WITH LIVING A LESS FULFILLED LIFE, ALSO OFCOURSE THE REPEATED CARCRASHES ARE TROUBLING. BASICALLY I WORRY THAT SCHOOL ISN’T CHALLENGING YOU ENOUGH.”

“Well, I think it is challenging though,” whined Markfive. “I mean I’m getting bees in everything.”

“THAT IS EXACTLY WHY I THINK YOU’RE NOT BEING CHALLENGED,” said Mark.

There was a sick melty footsmell but it wasn’t feet, instead it was a bathtub of fonduecheese, next to the tub was a slab of rock holding enormous breads, and surenough, the giant leaned back and began dipping and munching, splatters of cheeselava landed all around us.

“I mean, what are you suggesting, do you wish I went to a tougher school and had gotten cees and dees and felt crappy, nothanks,” scoffed Markfive.

“I THINK AT A MORE RIGOROUS SCHOOL, WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED WAS, YOU WOULD HAVE TRIED,” said Mark.

“Cool theory I guess,” said Markfive. “From a scientist who checks in on his experiment once every few months or so.”

Mark winced with dignified hurt, made a face of, I wish you could understand the very good reasons why I cannot be your everyday dad.

A pair of seagulls flew through the window for breadcrumbs but he swatted them like bugs.

“CAN WE TALK ABOUT YOUR EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY PRESENT,” said Mark, leaning the head toward us again, it was like being talked to by a garage.

“I don’t want it,” said Markfive. “Give it to Warner.”

Mark sighed and his breathstink was amazing, a thousand rotting animals thicking the air. His swampy eyes rolled toward me. Their switchbacking veins were faded snakes, puffing and shrinking a little with his pulse.

“Warner would do way better with it than me, this dave has wild streetsmarts, he used to live in freaking garbage, plus he has incredible discipline, look how yoked he is,” slurred Markfive. “Even his sister would crush it. She literally wants to never stop learning facts. She literally said that. Warner, tell him.”