CHAPTER TEN

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“ – newly elected Pope, Keanu Reeves, is expected to begin his duties on Monday. In other news, if you came across a letter addressed to the editor of Newsweek and impeded its progress in any way, report to 666 Death Row for a…party. Yes, that’s it. A party. Speaking of parties, the Communist Party is at it again! A rally called ‘Heart for Bark’ was held in Mississippi earlier this week to grant local man Randy Bonaparte the right to wed his beloved oak tree, Missy…”

Bill was sitting on his living room floor playing with some Pokemon cards when the message was broadcast on the evening news. He leaped up, slipping on the recently waxed hardwood floor and flying headfirst into the wall. Undeterred, he picked himself up and began addressing a nonexistent companion.

“John imposticulated a letter addressed to the head of Newsweek! And my dad left my mom for a tree named Missy! But going back to the first thing I said, wow! John got invited to a party. I wonder if he’ll take me!” wondered Bill excitedly.

Dashing out of the room, slipping once more and again crashing into a wall (but a different wall this time), Bill took out his cell phone, which he’d only recently obtained, his mother being quite loath to give him any tools with which to communicate with the outside world. Running upstairs, he tried to call John, but John had never told Bill his phone number, so Bill just called a random one. Fortuitously, it was, in fact, John’s.

“This had better be important; I was singing lullabies to my petunias,” said John.

“John, it’s me, Bill! Bill Williams,” replied Bill.

“Ah, yes, hello Bill,” said John, gently caressing his flowers.

“The garbage man,” continued Bill.

“Right, I know who you are,” answered John.

“We went to a bar the other day,” said Bill.

“Get to the point, you idiot,” commanded John. “After this, I need to take a bath with my water lilies. They’re filthy!”

Completely unfazed, Bill asked, “Can I have $50?”

“Why the hell do you need $50?” demanded John, pouring copious amounts of bubble bath into his floral-pattern tub. “Moreover, why would you ask me? I’m extremely greedy, and broke, at least until my counterfeiting business picks up.”

“To buy a suit,” answered Bill.

“Why do you need a suit?” asked John.

“For the secret surprise party I’m bringing you to!” responded Bill.

John sighed in exasperation. “Well first of all, it’s not a surprise anymore, thanks to your moronic inability to keep a secret. And second, who on earth would throw a party for me? It’s probably a trap!” retorted John.

John suddenly heard a series of excessively loud beeps, which forced him to tear the phone away from his head. Bill had just figured out how to play “Mary Had a Little Lamb” with dial tones; he hadn’t been this amused in months.

Cursing Bill and pressing the phone back to his ear, John continued, “Are you sure this party is legitimate, Bill? I don’t want to find out this is somehow related to that letter I intercepted, because not only would that be dangerous; it’d also be trite and predictable.”

“Of course John! I’m really sued when it comes to things like this,” said Bill confidently.

John hesitated for a second.

“Do you mean shrewd?”

“Yeah, that’s it. Shoed.”