Drennen and Joey’s Sick Adventure
by Del Jackson
Chapter 5: Quinn Change
“Do you come here often?”
That she did, he knew damn well. The head bob, the voice filled to the brim with dad’s cologne: a cockatoo strutting his stuff, a man—a mammal, all tall—on the prowl. The fool’s gold name badge on his chest reading:
R. Kimball
PNC Bank Associate
He was putting the moves on one Martha Maciejewski, age 25, quite possibly the most beautiful Polish princess—a princess, all woman—in all of neo-Chicago. An understatement, that.
Martha was there to withdraw a humble two hundred and fifty dollars, but what was R. Kimball doing there, really? He was a Kingfisher of a man, tall as the trees but as lithe and graceful as a prime Michael Jackson. He was snakes in a can, a fish out of water shaking the desperate shakes of separation anxiety, death; liable in an instant to do the most explosive physical comedy, his hair, ever wet with sweat, punctuating the madness—a shock of hair lending him the affect of a bruiser, a meat packer straight out of Upton Sinclair.
They busted in, guns blazing, better late than never: Joey Romaine and Drennen Quinn, flanked by Irwin Rommel, Joey’s bombastic cat and sometime dance partner. They were all three dressed as clowns (Irwin, so cute!), but—what the fuck? Drennen and Joey looked like they were melting, sweating bullets and streaking makeup. Gasping for breath.
“Everybody freeze, this is a robbery," said Joey, heat stricken. "Just like in the movies!”
R. Kimball was on him, a lunging wildebeest, a force of nature, before Joey Romaine could say “Hot Pocket!”
“You saved me!” Martha said.
“Martha! What are you doing here?! I saved you!” Joey said, lost.
“She meant me, lunch meat! Now, time to machismo rape you for your insolence.”
Gary Richardson, the legendary wheelman. His knuckles the humps of a camel on the steering wheel of his legendary ride, a 1989 JBA Dominator Mustang.
Stay the fuck out of my way, his life’s mantra. How was it again, that he got mixed up with these two bozos?
* * *
After some debate, it was Joey that pressed the doorbell on Gary's bungalow; Drennen flyin’ high, too high.
♪♪ BING bong, bing BONG. BING bong, BING bong ♪♪
The door swung open. G-Rich.
"We want to rob a PNC bank, Quick Change-style, you know?" said Joey. Quick Change style! "We were sorta wondering--"
Gary hovered backwards, into darkness; the Grim Reaper was never colder.
After some debate, it was Joey that pressed the doorbell on Gary's bungalow; Drennen flyin’ high, too high.
♪♪ BING bong, bing BONG. BING bong, BING bong ♪♪
The door swung open. G-Rich.
"We want to rob a PNC bank, Quick Change-style, you know?" said Joey. Quick Change style! "We were sorta wondering--"
Gary hovered backwards, into darkness; the Grim Reaper was never colder.
"Does he want us to come in?" said Drennen.
Vintage Ray Bans on Gary. Michael Jackson's "Dirty Diana" blasting on CD: http://www.youtube.com/watch?
Drennen and Joey were hunched over a laptop in the backseat.
“She wanted to date me in college, no joke. She asked me out," said Joey.
"No way," said Drennen. "She's beautiful."
Irwin Rommel rode shotgun--Gary's orders.
"Wow," said Drennen. "You messed up."
Irwin Rommel rode shotgun--Gary's orders.
"Wow," said Drennen. "You messed up."
"I know, dude, I'm such an idiot," said Joey, eyes swimming amidst the garish clown makeup, clawing his hand through his orange fro, done up Bozo style.
"Martha, Martha, Martha... The one that got away, huh pal?"
"Martha, Martha, Martha... The one that got away, huh pal?"
“Such a dummy…”
“The video for The Clash’s “Rock the Casbah” is my favorite,” said Drennen.
“Good point, but I’d say Julianne Moore remains one of Hollywood’s natural beauties… Gary, I'm in mourning here, could you turn that down?"
SCREECH! ‘Stang to a dead halt.
Get the F outta my ride
Drennen and Joey in shock: Gary hadn’t opened his mouth. That shit was telepathy!
"…Did you hear that?" Drennen whispered.
“Yeah, it was like it was in my head. You heard it?”
“Yeah… What should we do?”
“…Gary, my man, we gotta get to PNC, you can't dump us out here.”
Irwin Rommel wrinkled his nose as if to say, “Me, too?”
But there was no further response from Gary, no further anything, and after several minutes, there was no other choice but to exit the ride. Gary peeled out and was gone.
Irwin Rommel wrinkled his nose as if to say, “Me, too?”
But there was no further response from Gary, no further anything, and after several minutes, there was no other choice but to exit the ride. Gary peeled out and was gone.
“Great. Just great,” said Drennen.
“That’s a spicy meatball! It’s hot out!” said Joey.
“That’s a spicy meatball! It’s hot out!” said Joey.
“You are the worst.”
“♪♪ Sharif don’t like it,” Joey sang. Hard to stay mad at him.
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