Your name is Spades Slick and you are sick and tired of sitting in this bed. That nice dame, Ms. Paint, peels you an apple while the orange guy examines your new robot eyes.
You say, "Hey, buddy, could I use the phone?" You feel its time for some business to be done, can't just sit around here forever. Ms. Paint shares a look you don't understand with orange guy and quietly leaves the room. Orange guy sighs and hands you the phone.
You dial up your Crew. Droog first, then Hearts, finally little Clubs. You groan in frustration. "Why won't those bastards answer me?" you say to orange guy.
"Slick, you shouldn't bother calling them anymore..." he says.
"Fuck. They're just being assholes." You redial another number, certain they'll answer.
You are met with a dial tone.
"Bitch must've changed her number," you say annoyed.
"Slick..."
"Snowman can be a real bitch sometimes. But she's my bitch, I guess. Do you think...do you thinks she's mad I kissed her and now she's ignoring me?"
Orange guys sighs and says slowly, "Slick. They're dead. Your Crew. Snowman. They've been dead for three years. Don't you remember killing her, even?"
Your eyes narrowed in anger. You grab the knife Ms. Paint used to cut the apple and points it at orange guy. "Why do you always say that!? Don't you ever tell me they're dead! She is not dead! I just saw her yesterday and I fucking kissed her, not killed her!"
Orange guy rubs his temples. "Okay, Slick. Whatever you say."
You lean back in bed. "Just give me a cigarette."
Orange guy opens the bedside drawer and pulls out the cigarette holder, putting it into Slick's mouth and fitting a cigarette at the end, lighting it for him.
You puff thoughtfully, closing your eyes. You can't believe you're smoking this stuff. But you can still taste her lips on the holder, and that'll have to do since she's being a bitch right now.
You sigh. "It's my fault, though, isn't it? I was a real asshole to her. Even though she is such a bitch. Isn't she a bitch, orange guy?"
Orange guy sits quietly, and you think you see tears in his eyes. "Yeah, Slick, she's a bitch."
"Damn right. Well if she's not gonna talk to me, I won't talk to her. She'll come around when she's ready, I don't think I want her to see me like this anyway."
Orange guy was silent.
"Well, why don't you leave me alone now? Just let me smoke in peace if you're not gonna contribute to the conversation."
Orange guy gets up and walks to the door. Ms. Paint waits outside. "He still doesn't remember?" she asks.
He shakes his head. "He calls them every day, Ms. Paint. I think he just blocked out the incident from his mind."
"It's so sad, he must feel so alone."
He nods. "Why don't you paint him another picture? He seems to like them."
"Oh, that's a great idea! I'll go right ahead." She turns to go.
"Ms. Paint...don't use any blue paint, okay?"
She nods in understanding.
Orange guy looks in on the miserable form of Spades Slick, silently puffing smoke and flicking ashes into the bed.
Your name is Andrew Hussie and you are so, so sorry.