Nuclear Jellyfish

SHARK LOUNGE

Coleman stared across the club’s dim interior. “I thought when Story said she needed to get here to make money, it was by stripping.”

“Me, too,” said Serge. “Live long enough and you see everything.”

On the other side of the room, Story sat on a stool next to the shark cage. Inside was a naked woman with a trigonometry textbook. “So after the hypotenuse, then what?”

“Add the squares of the adjacent sides and solve for X.”

“Who thought of this?”

“Subject to argument, but it at least dates to the reign of Hammurabi.”

Serge faced the bar again. “Tutoring colleagues stripping their way through school. Very admirable.”

“Still don’t understand why she’s hanging with us.” “Because she’s damaged.” “Looks fine to me.”

“I’m not judging,” said Serge. “We’re all damaged. It’s a universal component of the human condition, like the stages of grief, déja vu and expired coupons.”

“Am I damaged?”

Serge placed a hand on his pal’s shoulder. “Coleman, there are three-and only three-kinds of people in this world: Those who don’t know they’re damaged and blame others; those who realize they’re damaged and blame others; and then people like you and me, who wear damage like comfortable pajamas.”

Coleman swigged from his pint bottle. “Mine are the ones with the little feet.”

“The problem is the word damage. Sounds negative. But it’s just another facet of higher spiritual consciousness that separates us from lower orders of life. You think some animal that doesn’t even possess object permanence is whimpering about dysfunction from materially focused parents?”

“Object what?”

“Permanence. One of the things that separates humans … Forget it. In your case, it’s easier to just demonstrate.” He grabbed Coleman’s pint bottle.

“Be careful with that!”

“Don’t worry. Only using it to make a point.” Serge held the bottle in front of Coleman’s face. “Got a good look?”

“Yeah.”

Serge whipped it behind his back.

“Hey! What happened to my bottle?”

“Coleman-“

“It’s gone forever!”

“Okay, bad example.” Serge returned the pint to Coleman.

“My bottle’s here forever!”

Serge swiveled around on his stool and leaned against the bar. “This is one of my favorite Florida landmarks. And there’s something I’ve always wanted to do here to complete the experience, but the time’s never been right.” He furtively glanced around. “Until now … Coleman, cover me …”

On the other side of the lounge, a woman in a shark cage looked up from her textbook. “Your friend over there’s kind of cute.”

“A freakin’ lunatic is what he is.” Story turned a page in her own book. “Wearing out my last nerve.”

“Then why do you still hang with him?”

“He’s damaged. Guess it brings out the maternal instinct. Plus I need transpo.”

“Admit it. You think he’s cute.”

“I will say this: Incredibly annoying as he is, there are at least three or four times a day I have to strain with all my might not to burst out laughing.”

“Don’t give me that old garbage: ‘He makes me laugh.’”

“He does.”

“You think he’s cute.”

“Trust me. They don’t make a strong enough dose of cute to compensate for the crap I have to put up with.”

“What kind of crap.”

“Wait long enough and you get a chance to see-“

The woman in the cage pointed. “Holy mother!”

Story jumped up. “Serge! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m dancing.”

“Get the fuck off the aquarium!”

“But I always wanted to-“

“Get off!”

“Alllllll right.”

Story plopped back down on her stool. “See what I’m talking about?”

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll go with you.”

A door of metal bars creaked open. “I’ll bet I could change him.”

OceanofPDF.com