Scott collapsed on the floor, William kicked him, grumbling, Thats for the bungie jumping accident, motherfucker, before Dirk, finishing a haiku progression on Scotts totemic longing for Jeans bar, nudged Dirk, who was doing some kind of Ginsbergian chanting as Scott and William complimented each others pinballing in a passive agressive tongue-in-cheek kind of way.
Dirk looked over at Dirk, at first snarling at the mere mortals audacity, before warming, realizing the depth of humanity, the warmth of the friendship present in this mere poet who had become a great hypertext novelist by undoing the undoing of Dirk the concrete poetry messiah, and who had in fact been the inspiration for the term I is We togetherness that Dirks followers had adopted as a mantra and Dirk saw that the suited simulacrum of Scott was in somewhat tenuous position, breathing shallowly into his drool. Dirk relented and waved his hand.
Scott came to.
Scott bought Scott, William and William Jamesons on the rocks.
Dirk insisted that he be brought Jamesons, an Absolut gimlet, a glass of mango nectar, coconut milk, a strawberry milkshake and a pint of buttermilk, while Dirk settled for a Bookers on the rocks, an orange julius, and an ice water.
Scott borrowed Scotts credit card to cover the expense. Scott nudged Scott and asked Did you bring your cellphone?
Scott reached into his pocket and pulled a Samsung dual band Sprint PCS phone, fiddled with it, and said, uh, its out of juice. Scott looked at Scott incredulously.
What? asked Scott, Did you forget yours?
Not fucking likely. Just checking up on you.
Scott pulled a phone from his pocket and hit a single key. Without putting the phone to his ear, he began speaking to someone miles away.
He most have one of them microphone things, Scott said to William.
Ohhhhhhhhh, said William.
Like a transporder from Star Trek, said Dirk.
Teleportation, said Dirk.
No, Scott interrupted his phonecall to interject, Like a cellphone with a microphone and an earpiece, you friggin morons.
Dirk raised his hand as if to smite Scott. Dirk intercepted him, saying, In spite of it all, hes still a friend.
Dirk assented. William looked somewhat disappointed, in a withdrawn way.
Scott said, Oh, youll thank me. Marla just sent the limo. Kilgore will with be with us momentarily.
Kilgore? Scott asked.
Was here. Dirk said.
Trout. Scott answered.
Ohhhhhhhh. said William. Not that bastard William Trout, is it? asked William.
Nobody answered him.
Moments later, Kilgore Trout and Bobby Knight walked through the door. Bobby Knight ordered a Budweiser and threw a barstool through the window.
Couldya turn the heat down? Is that too much to ask? He asked the bartender.
Sorry, Mr. Knight, apologized the bartender shamefacedly. Can I get your autograph?