A Nice Cuppa

CROUCHING BARISTA, HIDDEN LACTOSE (continued…)

Recap: Things heat up for the chemically involved: Tuti’s attempt to get closer to the package brings her head to head with a customer who makes her uncharacteristically quiet, and Pramana’s bungalow is routed out by a not-so-mysterious gentlemen from his past.

And now we continue, with the Vanilla Thrilla.

Interior - Seedy Motel (what else) - West Sumatra

Our two zero heroes bunker down for the night. Pramana heaves an overloaded sack of belongings into a corner and takes position at the wall beside a war-torn window frame. The lights are low for a reason other than aesthetics. Gunter stumbles into the bathroom, a lumbering oaf with smile. A water tap shutters on and his face goes under it.

PRAMANA: Did you send him?

GUNTER: I met him….don’t know who I met. Drunk as a drunk as a (happy gurgling sounds).

Answers sent without yes’s or no’s attached to questions given by assumed leader types….expect decibel increases.

PRAMANA: Did you send him?!

GUNTER: He came to the club. He asked for you, and that’s it. I didn’t-

PRAMANA: He would have come anyway.

GUNTER: It wasn’t even Moyers….Myers…oh my tongue is such a tongue todaaay.

PRAMANA: I don’t care. There’s two, so what? Bastard thinks he’s won.

GUNTER: We travel in twos. Then why come to me? If he knows where you are anyway?

PRAMANA: Because he thinks it’s over.

GUNTER: Like pumpin your fist while the hail mary’s still in flight.

PRAMANA: Smartest thing you’ve ever said in your life.

Complements that read like insult. Pramana’s all time favorite.

PRAMANA: Ball’s still up though.

GUNTER: Can you intercept? Still a little woozy.

PRAMANA: Doesn’t matter anyway because he didn’t find anything, and we know he’s looking cause he’s looking.

GUNTER: He’s looking around.

PRAMANA: Why’s he even looking? What am I, sloppy?

GUNTER: It’s been 7 months. Wasn’t that the point of going this long? Test the methods after half time.

PRAMANA: Get off the sports dummy. For experience.

GUNTER: We have it, don’t we? I feel we do, yes I really do…oooh, pretzels would be a gift from angels. Don’t you feel we’re nice and trained for bad people?

PRAMANA: No.

GUNTER: Drug dealers are chick magnets. I’m fully trained.

PRAMANA: They shouldn’t have found us.

GUNTER: This be DEA academy bro! How long did you think this was going to go on?

No answer. The half who normally did the thinking was thinking.

GUNTER: Director knows all. Director sees all. He has nothing to do with our little drug-o mock-ups but he…knows all. And did I mention he sees a bunch? I did….cause he sees a wack dammit. Ahh…..schnookems! I’m surprised he left us in the bush this long. And you know what? I see four or five sets of your lips, but that aside, I’m glad we got bagged! Cause frankly my dear, I wanna go home. The people of Greater Indoneapolitan are soo nice, but I miss…..the food and drink of my birth, certain commercials, and my mom. If she even remembers she has a poopy-doop, cause we haven’t held communicae in almost a year. I’m also anxious to see that new Daniel Day Lewis movie, though I’m sure it’s been ripped and wrapped….available for 55 cents a street corner.

PRAMANA: Day Lewis is dead.

GUNTER: Wha!

PRAMANA: No. Just shutup!

GUNTER: Why would you do that?

PRAMANA: This thing will end but not this way.

A moment of silence. Funny how they’re always timed to precede pivotal bits of news.

PRAMANA: Director doesn’t know we’re here.

….and how the silence following news bits precedes even tastier reactions.

GUNTER: I’m sober. Repetez S.V.P.

PRAMANA: We were given a detail. This wasn’t it. I changed it. No goddamn way I’m gonna lose this.

GUNTER: How’s it a “winning” thing? We’re training. F***in stashes aren’t even real man.

PRAMANA: It’s definitely a losing thing.

GUNTER: How can-

PRAMANA: Director knows we’re out here playing bad guy, he just doesn’t know where. I told him we were relocating.

GUNTER: Mama Spank-o I’d say!

PRAMANA: At least he had the pack to admit it was the better way to learn this business. Consider yourself lucky to maybe be mistaken for someone who had a hand in it. You’ll have twice the credentials a field agent’ll have in his third year.

GUNTER: You could have ended both our careers.

PRAMANA: Then be a walking fence post with Myers! How valuable is this to you? You think mailing boxes of sawdust to Uncle Fester West Virginia for 8 months is worth 10 minutes of street time when we’re done? I can’t waste my time!

Needed pause.

GUNTER: Can we drink again?

PRAMANA: It’s an idea.

GUNTER: (a breath) Wow. We’re really out here on our own.

Pramana nods, though not with any dissatisfaction. Clenched teeth is housed by a set of lips turned upwards, not down. He’s enjoying this. Pramana parts the motel blinds long enough for a peek.

GUNTER: Was it Myers…here?

PRAMANA: Almost sure. Fool’s got a lifetime supply of Aqua Velva.

GUNTER: Hmmm. We f****n rock.

PRAMANA: Yeah. However….covering our tracks here is the least of our problems.

GUNTER: Tutu.

PRAMANA: Tuti.

GUNTER: Oh…right.