Notes (XVI)

“This is . . . fuck. I don’t know how to . . . I don’t know what I’m going to do to deal with . . . this is fucked up.”

“So look, let me ask some questions, because I have some fucking questions. Aaron. You’re saying you somehow made those people kill themselves?”

“I just said some words to them, Marsh.”

“Real interesting. But not a fucking answer to my fucking question.”

“Aren’t you being a bit literal about this, Marsh?”

“Oh my god. Fuck you, Aaron.”

“Look, I don’t feel any better about this than you do.”

“Apparently you felt okay about it a few hours ago, though.”

“I just . . . I said some words to them. Words that I felt like I had to say. Like if I didn’t say them I would explode. Or die. Or . . . that . . . that kind of thing.”

“Aaron, I know you and Marsh have some history of tension, so take it from me instead: I think we all deserve some explanation of what happened back there.”

“I’m not sure I can explain it, Jennifer.”

“Well, the rest of us are completely in the dark. So really, anything you can do will help.”

“I’m sorry, Jennifer. I’m sorry. I . . . really respect you. I really like Life Among The Lorrums. I’m sorry.”

“Guys, maybe we should give Aaron some time.”

“Give him some time? What, so he can kill again?”

“Aaron hasn’t killed anyone, Marsh.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I’m sorry these important subtleties are lost on your poor little friend Marsh. Aaron hasn’t killed anyone he’s just made people die by saying words to them. That’s very different. I’m looking forward to his theory thread about it.”

“Marshall, this has been a very interesting and mind-opening experience, but I don’t think my mind is open enough to believe that one of your friends has some sort of magic powers.”

“Don’t call me ‘Marshall,’ dad.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for putting all you guys through this. I’m . . . I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“I imagine the families of the three people who died today are also pretty sorry.”

“Guys? This is all really fucked-up and weird and confusing. And if we’re even going to begin to understand it we need to listen to Aaron. So can we maybe start just letting him talk? And listening?”

“I don’t know. Listening to Aaron talk is apparently not very safe, is the impression I’m getting here.”

“Jenny, could you just get him to shut up for a moment? So I can talk?”

“I don’t know why you think I’m any more capable of getting him to shut up than anyone else. Why don’t you get him to shut up, if that’s what you want?”

“He just slows everything down. He’s almost like Lugnut. Except more boring. Remember the stuff he said about your fic? Did he ever once display a normal level of reading comprehension?”

“Aaron, if you think you’re getting me on your side by saying stuff like this, think again.”

“Yeah, seriously. What the fuck, Aaron? I think we need to just decree that Aaron and Marsh can’t talk to each other for the next hour or something. Or even say anything about each other.”

“Sounds good to me, Paul. I’m personally pretty interested in not dying.”

“Okay, that’s your last comment about or to Aaron until [checks clock] 6:36 PM.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

“So Aaron as I said earlier I do think we all deserve an explanation about what happened back at Jim’s. It doesn’t have to be, like, complete? Or anything? Just . . . we could use anything at this point.”

“It’s just like . . . something came over me, reading Tee Enn See with you all. And staying up so late. And taking Adderall. There are so many factors. Who knows. But there was a time when we were reading, and I almost . . . I had a waking dream, or a hallucination, or something, and Sally from Chesscourt was there, and she told me something about talking in the voice of the sky? And I felt like I had to do that. And when we went to Jim’s, I just, I mean, I felt like I had to talk in the voice of the sky. I didn’t know what was going to happen, I swear. I just had to . . . [falters, sniffles] had to . . .”

“Aww, Aaron. We’re here for you.”

“Oh so now the murderer starts crying and everyone’s like oh no poor baby. Watch out, he’s going to get you next. And then explain how he did it. With bold fonts.”

“Marsh! You are not allowed to talk about Aaron until 6:36!”

“Oh I’m so sorry Cleft-Ear, I’ll be a good Gamma Male now.”

“I don’t know what you’re implying there.”

“You’re the writer. Figure it out.”

“Paul, I . . .”

“I’m here, Aaron.”

“This is so fucking terrible it’s beyond the end of the line why did I go on it just ends up like this I can’t believe I didn’t listen when they said the wages of sin was—”

“Shh.”

“May I kiss you, Paul?”

“What?”

“You can say no.”

“I don’t think I’m gay, Aaron.”

[. . .]

“Well, thanks anyway.”

“I don’t . . . think I’m gay . . . Aaron.”

“This is the most yaoi thing I’ve ever seen. Squeeee!”

“Was that in English, Kelsey?”

“Well mostly but yaoi is Japanese for—”

“I didn’t know Aaron was gay.”

“I’m not sure whether or not to count that against your 6:36 thing. I mean, it was a pretty neutral statement.”

“Not that I’m not cool with that, you know?”

“As I said, a pretty neutral statement.”

“I get the sense you’re having a lot of fun with deciding what I get to say, Jenny.”

“—it originally meant ‘no climax, no point, no meaning,’ like a meaningless story—”

“Oh, you mean like The Northern Caves?”

“Aaron, I understand what you mean about feeling like you have to do things, and Northern Caves making you feel that way.”

“I thought you would, Paul.”

“Well, Paul, maybe you can enlighten the rest of us?”

“Look, before I even say anything, I want to make it clear that I don’t endorse killing people, or, uh, saying things that will make people kill themselves—”

“You know, it’s kind of weird when you have to actually say that.”

“So what, I’m supposed to not say it?”

“Look, forget I said anything. I want to hear what you have to say, Paul.”

“I don’t. I’m going to grab a joint and a shot and try to forget about this shit.”

“Bye, Marsh.”

“Oh, you know, I got some more of that good purple weed the other day. It’s in the drawer.”

“Thanks, dad.”

“I have to say, I’m surprised by how many of you guys do drugs.”

“It’s pretty common in America, among young people, I mean just in general.”

“I just . . . can you imagine Tom or Sally or Charles or Cleft-Ear doing drugs?”

“I have trouble imagining them doing a lot of things, really.”

“Salby really is kind of shit at characters, isn’t he?”

“Not as good as you, definitely.”

“Thanks, Paul.”

“I’m so sorry Paul and Jennifer and also Kelsey and Kenneth. [. . .] Thank you, Paul, that feels really nice on my hair.”

“I just . . . this is all so fucked up.”

“I don’t think you’re going to find much disagreement there, Jenny.”

“You’re being flip about it, Paul. I don’t like it. I don’t like the drugs, I don’t like the . . . death . . . the way you’re all just being so jovial about it . . . I feel like my brain is about to crawl out of my skull.”

“I want to go home.”

“So do I.”

“I just want to get away from all of this.”

“Kelsey, that’s the first sensible thing I’ve heard in about forty hours.”

“But I’m not sure I can remember how to get to the airport? It’s really complicated, you have to take a bus and then a train? And I can’t seem to find my meds for some reason.”

“When’s your flight?”

“It’s tomorrow, but I just want to get away . . . now.”

“How about we go together?”

“That would be so helpful, oh my god, thank you.”

“No prob.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We know, Aaron.”

“Are you leaving now?”

“Yeah, I think that’s the plan.”

“Well, goodbye.”

“Bye, Paul. Look, let’s talk about this later, okay? This whole thing is so fucked up, but it’s not your fault.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Paul. Get some sleep. Eat some vegetables. I’ll send you a PM on the Cafe when I get home.”

“Bye! It was cool meeting you guys!”

“Bye, Kelsey. Bye Jenny. Talk to you soon.”

[. . .]

“I fucked up, Paul, didn’t I? Good god I fucked up. I should have just taken all that Ambien when I had the chance.”

“I’m glad you didn’t, Aaron.”

“Every clever thing I do just ends up wrong, right? Like hilariously wrong. You know that was where the name was from, right? Like a knight errant, but also, like all my fancy moves are—”

“Yeah, I got it, Aaron.”

“Can we kiss again, Paul? It’s pretty far past the end of the line for me but I did like kissing you. Might as well have some fun before the end.”

“Sure, Aaron.”

[. . .]

“I don’t want to interrupt you two lovebirds, but I’ve looked very closely at my watch and I think it says it is 6:41. Of course I’m going to leave the final word here to Jenny.”

“Hey, Marsh.”

“Jenny left. Kelsey too.”

“Well, it’s 6:41, and I’m good and loaded, and I’m feeling like shit is pretty good, for once.”

“That’s good to hear, Marsh.”

“I didn’t know you were gay, Paul. I’m learning so much shit at Spelunk 04. All kinds of Spelunking going on up in here.”

“I don’t . . . think I’m gay, Marsh.”

“Could have fooled me, dude. It’s cool, though. So are you guys going to crash here, or like . . . I mean if you want to read some more Salby, be my fucking guest. Count me out, though, and if anyone dies make sure it happens outside the house, okay?”

“Crashing on this here couch sounds pretty good right now, except I’m still wired as hell. You said there was alcohol in this household?”

“Broseph, let me introduce you to The Cabinet.”

“Christ that’s a lot of bottles.”

“Dad and I like to be prepared in case a party just so happens to materialize.”

“I really just drink scotch, mostly. This Johnnie Walker Black is making eyes at me.”

“Be my guest. Aaron, you want anything? Oh, I bet you don’t drink, though. Can’t risk any of those precious brain cells up there. Where would we ever be without the Reversal Hypothesis and the special death words?”

“I’m sorry, Marsh. I still don’t like you, Marsh.”

“Really. Well, fuck me. How am I ever going to deal with this shocking new info.”

“But you’re right. I don’t like drinking. Just makes me hate myself more.”

“Metamarsh gets something right? Holy shit. Maybe you’ll have to add that to your signature.”

“Whatever you want, Marsh. No blood on your hands. What could I even say against you. I’m not allowed to dislike you, but I’m not allowed to do anything, so I might as well dislike you, and kiss GlassWave, and keep on disliking you. Sorry.”

“Dude Err I’m way beyond being able to make sense of that. I’m off to bed. There’s lube in the back of one of the kitchen counters. Party on.”

“Good night, Marsh.”

[. . .]

“So, Aaron . . . feel free to tell me this is crazy, but do you want to read some more Salby?”

“You know, that’s exactly what I want to do.”

[. . .]

“Don’t spill any of that liquor on the manuscript, okay?”

“I’ll be careful.”

“I know you will, Paul.”