Chapter Two
In present day, 2014...
Larry Appleton's hand flew out from the bed and frantically slapped at his alarm clock on the nightstand. Surely it wasn't-
"Good morning, Cousin!" Balki Bartokomous' voice called out cheerfully as he bounded into the room.
Dammit, it was morning. He hated mornings. "Balki, did you make the coffee?" he mumbled, his face still buried in his pillow.
"Well, of course I did, don't be ridiculous. I also set out your vit-a-mins, your blood pressure pill, arthritis pill, cholesterol pill and your fiber pill in a neat little line on the counter."
Larry moaned and slowly rose from the bed, scratching his thinning hair. Glancing in the mirror, he stuck his tongue out to check and make sure it wasn't a funny color. "I miss being a handsome twenty-something bachelor," he said to his reflection. Not that he looked terrible other than he was a few pounds heavier, had a few more wrinkles, more grey and a receding hairline. Even Balki was beginning to show some signs of age, although he hadn't gained weight or gone grey. Just a few wrinkles around his face (laugh lines) and a small bald spot on top of his head. He still couldn't believe how both their worlds could have changed so much since nineteen eighty seven. He still remembered it like it was yesterday. He had been so eager for his girl Jennifer Lyons to come home from her Canadian trip. Balki was just as excited for her best friend and his girlfriend Mary Anne Spencer to return, as well. However, just three weeks before they were to return, they both worked a flight to Bermuda and were never heard from or seen again. Reports claimed that the plane had lost communication over the Bermuda Triangle and the plane, its passengers and crew disappeared. Balki and Larry had both been devastated, but time had managed to heal their wounds. The two men had since dated wonderful women, but neither of them came close to getting engaged or married.
"Cousin, are you coming?" Balki called from the kitchen. "Your oatmeal is getting cold."
Larry sighed and walked into the kitchen, grabbing his coffee and taking a long drink. "Balki, other than the fact that our apartment has been remodeled and we've gotten older and wiser, not much has changed for us. We still work at the Chronicle, we're still roommates, we've never changed our phone number and you still sleep with Dimitri."
"And you still have a nervous breakdance at least once a day, you still carry your clipboard around like it's a Bible and you still drink your antacid from the bottle," Balki counted. "I like this game. How many more things can you think of that I still do?"
"Balki, it's not a game. We're in a rut. We've been in a rut since I can remember. Speaking of which, I'm still annoyed by the fact that I remember my fifth birthday, my first Christmas as the Christmas Boy, getting ditched at my senior prom, meeting you, and when Jennifer went to Canada, but I can't remember other important things. They say the mind is the first thing to go and boy, they weren't kidding around."
Balki cocked his head to the side, "Cousin, I thought it was hearing was the first thing to go."
Larry looked up at him after taking a bite of his oatmeal. "What?"
"Never mind, Cousin. My memory bank has been withdrawn, too. When Mary Anne was in Canada, she called and told me something important, but I can't remember what she say. She say, 'Balki, I have something important to tell you', but then my mind walks a plank."
"Come to think of it, there are a lot of things I don't remember about when they went to Canada. Maybe I blocked it out because it was too tragic for me. I really did love that woman," Larry said thoughtfully, his mind going back to nineteen eighty-six. He remembered the first time he laid eyes on her at The Ritz. She had stopped by because Balki had forgotten to sign a form for the gym. Larry, wanting to impress her, also signed up, pretending he was practically a bodybuilder. Unfortunately, for both he and Balki, they paid the price when neither one of them could barely move after over-doing it. Looking back on that moment, Larry realized that was just a slice of all the stupid things he had done over the course of their time together to impress her. Why couldn't he meet a girl he didn't feel the need to impress? Why couldn't he find a woman with whom he felt completely relaxed and safe with? Surely, there had to have been one, but he couldn't remember.
"Cousin? Your mind walked off and left you standing there again, didn't it?"
Larry jumped and realized that Balki was standing right beside him. "Balki, don't scare me like that! You know I have a weak heart!"
"Sorry, Cousin, but I just got off the phone with Napoleon. He wanted to know what we want for lunch, so I say we wanted Yu So Fat Chinese. Is that okay?"
Larry nodded. "That's one thing that's changed. I love having a personal assistant."
Balki shook his head. "Cousin, he's only a wimp. We have him as personal assistant for only a month because Mr. Wainwright is recovering from heart surgery."
"Balki, I think you mean he's a temp and I know we only have him until Mr. Wainwright comes back. But it's still fun to have a little minion run errands for us."
Balki's eyes grew wide. "Cousin, Napoleon has a minion? Like the ones in Despicable Me?"
Larry put his empty dishes in the dishwasher and looked at Balki. "Yes. But no one has ever seen them."
Napoleon Webber panted as he ran inside the Chicago Chronicle building, trying not to drop the bags of food and drinks he was carrying. Of all the days for traffic to be at a standstill and parking to be full, why did it have to be today?
"You're ten-no, eleven-minutes late," an annoyed voice said, causing him to screech to a halt.
"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Appleton. Traffic was terrible and the parking was-"
"I don't have time for your excuses, Napoleon. Did you get our orders right this time?"
"Uh, I think so. I have the receipt somewhere in these bags," he fumbled around, nearly dropping the drink carrier.
"Oh, Napoleon; you shouldn't be carrying all those bags and drinks," another, kinder voice spoke up, taking the carrier and one of the bags from him.
"Thank you, Mr. Bartokomous," Napoleon sighed, glaring at his meaner counterpart.
"Now, Napoleon, if I tell you once, I tell you twice; call me Balki."
Napoleon smiled and ran a hand through his thick black hair. "Okay, Balki. Anything else you or Larry want from me?" he asked, silently praying the answer would be no.
"Well, first off, you can call me Mr. Appleton," Larry told him like a teacher disciplining his student, "and second of all, you can run these files up to Mr. DeVry's office in distributing."
Napoleon grunted as Larry handed him at least thirty files filled to the max with various papers, photos and discs. "Sure thing, Mr. Appleton. And I hope you choke on your fortune cookie," he muttered under his breath as he took the elevator.
