Thompson’s Theories of Diet and Health

[Thompson]

If you pull down your pants Thompson, said the lieutenant, and piss on this floor, you will go to jail. Maybe not jail, but you will be in central lockup for at least three days. What the fuck is wrong with you? You can’t do that!

I had one hand handcuffed and my cane in the other hand so I forgot to bring my bucket.

No, that’s still indecent exposure and urinating in public. Why in hell don’t you get one of those contraptions that go from a tube down to a piss bag that you attach to your belt and it hangs down by your leg? They sell those at Walgreens I’m fairly sure.

Is there a Walgreens on Airline Highway? That’s the bus I take to get everywhere.

Yes, I think so. There used to be anyway.
Now, to get back to the matter at hand. Nausea has fingered you as one of, or perhaps the one, who planned and pulled off these heists.

Oh c’mon lieutenant, I can hardly make it to the bathroom. My brain is all wet. Besides, I don’t know anything about no heists. Fred and Martha have something against me and are trying to work a frame with their friend Ladybug. I work at The Bowling Alley. I unstick bowling balls on lane 5 and occasionally work the counter. I have a cat Matilda and I watch Perry Mason. Nausea is confusing me with some old gangster he knows from Kentucky, goes by the name of Kentucky Outlaw.

[whiskeyprick]

game on

[Thompson]

Fred and Martha asked the lieutenant if they could be excused from the interrogation to go get something to eat. They tried to go out the door together but got stuck. Thompson coughed up a big phlegm into his mouth and wondered what to do with it.

Tell me about this gangster, Kentucky Outlaw, said the lieutenant.

Well, I don’t know much, said Thompson. I saw him at The Diner one morning, and he stood out. First off he was wearing a suit. Not many people wear a suit on Airline Highway. It was some sort of tweed salt and pepper
job old as the hills. Skinny old dude with bloodshot eyes. He had on a very cool gangster hat and was eating the corned beef hash with a poached egg and regular toast. He had green socks on and his teeth were a brown black color.

So he kinda looks like you,if you wore a suit and a cool gangster hat, asked the lieutenant?

I guess.

Do you know where we can locate this gangster?

No. He doesn’t bowl. I’ve never seen him at The Bowling Alley. Can I go back to the Alley now? Nausea is mistaken because besides being a booze hound he suffers from malnutrition from lack of meat. He hallucinates.

[Thompson]

Shit, said Thompson to himself, How am I supposed to get back to Airline Highway from here? The lieutenant let him go, so he went. He thumbed his nose up at everything and took a piss on the side of the police building.

Fred and Martha saw him do it. They put their siren on and those flashing lights.

Hey, said Thompson, How’s about a ride to The Bowling Alley?

No. You are persona non grata around here. You are a disgusting old geezer and nobody likes you.

I’ve seen you two at the Alley. Mose calls you the blubber twins. Good God have ya’ll gained some weight. How in hell did you get so fat?

I beg your pardon, said Martha, I am not fat, I am pleasingly plump. Check out this plump on my thigh.

You two been going to Ladybug’s, haven’t you? She’s been fixing pasta puttanesca for you, hasn’t she?

Yeah, so what?

Well, I’m just saying. I guess I’ll walk to Airline Highway then. Wait, does this bus connect to Airline Highway?

We don’t know, we don’t take the bus.

[Thompson]

Thompson waited at the bus stop, leaning on his cane. Here comes the bus, he said to himself. The bus slowed down then speeded up and just passed him by. The driver was a big fat woman and he etched her face into his failing memory. He started walking and came upon the next bus stop and sat down on the curb to rest and wait. Finally another bus came and the driver stopped and lowered the ramp and Thompson got on the bus. He sat up front so he could talk to the driver who sadly said this bus doesn’t connect with Airline Highway.

Where you going on Airline Highway, said the bus driver?

Hugh’s Bowling Alley. I work behind the machines.

No shit! I’m fixing to go to The Alley when I get off. I can give you a lift. In fact, this is my last run.

So, Thompson forgot all about the fatso who passed him up and settled into his seat.

When they got to The Alley Thompson bought the bus driver (Dix was his name) a Charleston Chew and a bottle of Budweiser. It’s the least I can do, he said.

Mickey Rourke was bowling by himself on lane 9. No, Mona was bowling with him, she had gone somewhere and now was back. Mickey had a little dog with him, a chihuahua it looked like. The dog sat next to him on the bowling bench. They seemed to be having a conversation. Mickey would say something to the dog, and the dog would sit up straight and make this sound. Mickey would nod his head, then attempt the 4 - 10 split. He picked up the split for a spare. Mona smiled. Good roll, she said.

(This is a true story)

[Thompson]

Jesus Christ, Mose, I don’t know whether to take an alka seltzer, a slug of pepto bismol, or chew a couple of rolaids,

We don’t carry pepto bismol.

Well then give me a two pack of alka seltzer.

What I use, Thompson, is bicarbonate of soda.

Hell, that’s the same thing as baking soda. Do you sell baking soda? I don’t see baking soda behind the counter.

No, but I keep a couple boxes around. It soaks up odors.

Mose, I’ve never belched (hardly) in my life. As of the day before yesterday that is all I do. There is not really a belch sound that comes out but it’s sort of like a hiccup. There is no end to it. Then I start sneezing, I don’t know, maybe ten sneezes, each one loud and full of snot. The discomfort from the hiccup gas and the usual intestine gas and now the sneezing is turning my frame of mind foul. Do you have any reefers?

No, but the cigarette machine is over there. It might have some reefers.

Shit, I’ve got to get some sleep tonight. This is ridiculous. The lieutenant is bound to show up here tomorrow. And my back is killing me. I’ve taken six BC powders and it’s still killing me.

Aspirin is hard on your stomach, it eats at the lining.

Yeah, I’ve heard that. Well, I guess I’ll go sit behind the bowling machines then. See ya, Mose.

[Thompson]

Thompson stretched out, or tried to stretch out, on his army cot in the back room behind the machines. There were all these noises coming from somewhere inside his digestive tract. Gurgling like noises. Sometimes he would cut a fart and the discomfort would leave for a brief moment. Then it would start up again. The cigarette machine did indeed dispense reefers, but that column was empty. He pulled the lever and only got a book of matches, but he did get his coins back, so that was fair, but disappointing. Mose called on the intercom but Thompson didn’t reply. He reached over and opened the next to last tin of sardines and hooked his cane into the handle of the back door to let Matilda in. This is probably It, he said to himself. Then he sank into a world of dreams, which was essentially just a bunch of memories all twisted around. Then his leg started to twitch and he woke up.

Mose, what time is it?

There was no answer. The bowling alley was closed. The gurgling started up again. He found a BC powder in his shirt pocket and took it. He washed it down with a warm beer, which hit the spot actually, so he inventoried his beer and his bottle. Good enough. He turned on the tv he bought with his share of the heist money and adjusted the antenna to bring in Perry Mason. I don’t know, he said to himself, You think this is It, but it’s not It. He put on his shoes. Then he took off his shoes. Then he put his shoes back on again. Jesus, he said to himself, how long is this going to go on? He got off the army cot somehow but couldn’t stand up so he crawled on his hands and knees to fetch his bucket. Matilda looked at him. He crawled back to the army cot and had a bitch of a time getting back up on it. I think this is It, said Thompson.

I think so too, said the narrator.

[oettinger]

So you`re not feeling alright again?

[Thompson]

C’mon Oetts, of course we are not feeling alright. We have to stay hungry and jittery and all that there stuff to plan our next heist. We can’t afford to become complacent or satisfied or anything like that. We have to live on the edge. Now we can pretend in all different directions, but when the whistle blows and the rooster crows, we gotta have our shoes on and be ready to go.

[oettinger]

I`d contemplate we heist the Alaskan parlament on alaska highway.
No one, NO ONE will notice the different looking hungover faces. AD can wear her Nixon mask. I`ll be Che btw.
From there we can attack Russia, Hokaido, Bejing and Seoul.
Lets do it just drink up some bravery. I already booked an escaope ferry from Murmansk

[Thompson]

I`d contemplate we heist the Alaskan parlament on alaska highway.
No one, NO ONE will notice the different looking hungover faces. AD can wear her Nixon mask. I`ll be Che btw.
From there we can attack Russia, Hokaido, Bejing and Seoul.
Lets do it just drink up some bravery. I already booked an escaope ferry from Murmansk

Fuckin’ aye! Now we’re getting down to business.

[Thompson]

Thompson was watching Perry Mason when he heard the Harley outside in the alley. It was right outside the door and was cranking up, cranking up, then it stopped. There was a knock at the door and then the door flew open.

Thompson, said Badfellow, Grab your shoes, hat, and cane. We are going to Alaska.

[Thompson]

First we have to get some breakfast, said Badfellow. He pulled up in front of Hugh’s Diner and parked the Harley. Thompson’s hat had blown off his head. One less thing to worry about, he said. They sat at the counter and ate their breakfasts. Then they payed up and got back on the motorcycle machine. They were heading north.

[Thompson]

Badfellow had a bag of white cross speed tablets that he manufactured at home using nasal decongestants and baking soda.

Here, take a couple of these, he said.

[Thompson]

Badfellow pulled off to the side of road so’s Thompson could take a piss.

Ever heard Hugh sing those country and western songs, said Thompson? He’s got a new one out called Dumas Walker. It’s a good one, but I don’t know what a slaw burger is.

He also does book reviews, said Badfellow. He did a book review of poems called A Room Above the Convenience Store, or something like that. I can’t remember the poet’s name. He wasn’t whiny, this poet. At least Hugh didn’t think so in his review.

Hugh’s not coming to Alaska, said Thompson, which is a shame. He livens things up. But with his diner and all I guess he has to stick around to order the breakfast steaks and stuff like that.