~~~~~~~~ Chapter 9: Welcome to Arkham~~~~~
It was seven days since Stanford Pines had done smack. He wasn't a smack head, he wasn't a junkie. It was just Rick and him were getting ready to move to Arkham, it was stressful, they were at each other's throats. Weed wasn't getting him as relaxed coke and booze would just ratchet up the tension. He just needed something to get him high and maybe a few lines of brownstone would do the trick. The problem was Rick knew people who had heroin, Stan didn't really and Rick was off doing something, maybe apartment hunting? So it was lucky that he ran into Wentworth, if anyone had a hook up it was Wentworth Robinson.
"Stan-the-man!" Wentworth greeted him eagerly.
"Hey Wentworth!" He said.
"How's it going?" Wentworth asked.
"Alright, I guess, look can you do me a favor?"
Wentworth gave him a look all quirked eyebrows and thin lips the image of distrust."...Yeah what?"
"Look, I ummm," Stan was bad at this part. "uhhh well was wondering if you where I could get some smack? I have the money… it's not for me…"
Wentworth laughed and shook his head. "Yeah I do. I can get it for you, give me an hour, I'll come by yours and I'll see if can help you out."
"Oh… uuhhh great." Stan was sweating a bit but smiling. "I'll have the money."
"I"m sure you will Stan," Wentworth said with a laugh.
So Stan went back to the warehouse and waited, watched some reruns on the old tv. The buzzer buzzed and he almost sprang off the couch. Had he really been that eager? He paced himself and wandered over to the intercom. He pressed the button: "What?"
"H-h-hey Punchy it's me…"
Stan groaned it was just Rick. "Don't you have a key?"
"…I forgot it. Also Wentworth is here, says he wants to see you."
Stan, sighed pressed that buzzer to let them in, he was trying not to show any kind of excitement. Rick staggered past grinning, followed by Wentworth, who gave Stan a secretive smile.
"Y-y-you're gonna love this place I found," Rick said with a belch. "Two bedroom place second floor, real nice Stan."
Rick wandered over to the fridge undid the lock and pulled out a beer.
"I thought you were getting your key, Rick," Stan grumbled.
"I was out all day, Stan, I j-j-just need to put my feet up for a moment or two." Rick said heading over to the couch and doing just that his feet resting on the milk crate in front of the tv.
"I'll come back some other time, " Wentworth said with an apology in his voice.
"Naw," Rick said. "R-r-relax, kick back, enjoy yourself."
"I got things to do," Wentworth turned towards the door. "I have some other business in the city."
Wentworth flashed a glass vial at Stan and began to walk away. A light bulb went off in Stan's head. "I"ll walk you to door."
"Nice of you, Stan." Wentworth said with a grin.
"Yeah, sure," Stan remarked noncommittally.
They were at the doorway of the warehouse. "No really," Wentworth said going in for a hug. "Really kind of you." He slipped the vial into Stan's pocket.
Stan quickly took out the money from his other pocket and slid in Wentworth's hand. Then released.
"Naw, it's nothing. After all you showed me how to hustle more suckers." Stan said with a laugh.
Wentworth glanced down in his palm, seemed to calculate something in his head, then grinned. "You were a good pupil, Stan-The-man. Bye."
"See ya," Stan gave a wave.
Then shut the warehouse door and turned feeling very slick and cool. Rick was watching him with one eyebrow raised. "So Punchy what drugs did you buy?"
"Nothin' I was just… just…" Stan felt himself crumple under Rick's gaze."I got some horse."
"Brownstone?" asked Rick.
"Yep." Stan said trying not meet Rick's gaze.
"Well c'mere, share with me," Rick said. "I've got you high enough times you owe me. I'll show you how to cut it so you don't kill yourself."
Stan frowned, then shrugged and ambled over to Rick. He paid attention this time and listened as Rick cut the lines, they were so thin and so small. He wondered if he could hack it.
"Hey weren't you going out again?" Stan asked as Rick lowered his head.
Rick looked up at him his eyes glazed and dreamy. "Naw, I decided -he bleched- to stay here and relax."
They both spent the afternoon high as kites, ankles deep in oblivion. And afterward Rick didn't seem care, but Stan felt a strange craving for more.
Stan didn't have many things to pack just two measly boxes. Oddly enough Rick didn't pack a lot either and most of it was just science bullshit. Rick had bought a 71 Pinto, a shitbox car that someone had painted sea foam green.
When He pointed out to Rick it was a shitbox, in a horrible color Rick stared at him and said: "I know, the thing is I don't care. I can make into something cool, if I want."
"So suddenly you know about cars, then?"
Rick shrugged. "Yeah, my asshole father was a mechanic when he had a job."
"And he taught you?"
"Naw, my uncles did he never had the patience for that," He punctuated his sentence with a belch. "An engine is an engine, Palooka."
"What about the color?" asked Stan with a shudder. "It looks like toothpaste."
"Makes it easy to find," Rick shrugged.
Stan rolled his eyes, the finished loading the trunk of the Pinto, this was the second trip to Arkham. They were on the highway when an asshole in a blue camaro cut them off. It made Stan boil with anger, but in the next thirty seconds the asshole had run right into a tree on the side of the road. The front go the car a crumpled mess. Stan and Rick began to laugh. Then the best thing happened. The asshole got out to inspect the damage, slammed the door which caused a hornet's nest in the upper branches to dislodge fall on the hood, the angry hornets swarming out to sting him. The asshole flailed around screaming. Stan and Rick had to pull over on the other side, because they were laughing so much. After they wiped the tears from their eyes they smiled at each other, looked in the rearview and saw the asshole besieged by hornets screaming, it sent them laughing again. They drove off, giggling. The laughter seemed to evaporate when they entered Arkham.
There was something weird about this town. Stan couldn't put his finger on it. Lots of houses in town had weird barn-like roofs could be that , it could be the dark Miskatonic river cut through the middle of it or it could be the fact it was near a lunatic asylum that bore nearly the same name as the town: Arkham.
They had a apartment near the university in on the second floor of a unimpressive rectangular house covered with white aluminum siding. The landlord lived on the first floor. He was middle-aged, Eastern European, stout, short with a thick mop of black hair and heavy eyebrows.
"Do not mind the night noise, is just the house settling, is old house," said the landlord in an odd aside.
"Uh-huh." Rick wasn't paying attention. He was measuring the corners of the room and making notations in a small pad.
"You got our deposit right?" Stan asked.
"Yes, yes, The landlord nodded and added nervously. "Do not go in cellar, is unfinished, is very messy."
"Right, yeah," Stan wondered why this guy was wasting his time telling him this garbage.
"You told Rick the utilities were included." Stan asked. "That's true, right?"
The Landlord smiled greasily. "Of course, it's all in rent. Pay in cash, if I no answer put envelope in mailbox, If you hear any strange sounds coming from my apartment it's—"
"—Yeah gotcha." Stan cut him off. "Thanks uhhh… ."
Mr. Sobolannascut smiled again, his teeth were pointed and yellow (almost not human, bubbled a thought in the back of Stan's mind).
"I go now." Said the landlord
Stan waited for the closing door and sound of footsteps down the stairs before turning to Rick. "Can you believe that guy talked my fuckin' ear off, nothing useful either."
"Mmmm." Rick was staring at his notepad, chewing his lower lip. "All angles are euclidean, checks out."
"What does that even mean?" Stan asked.
"Not gonna explain you wouldn't get it." Rick said.
"Oh right," Stan said. "I'll unpack."
He went his bedroom with his box of belonging and began to unload and arrange them, it was a small dark room in the back. There was a single bed in the corner, Stan knew he'd hardly ever sleep in it. So why did he have it? Because they weren't boyfriends, or lovers, or anything… just two guys who fucked. Though sometimes when he looked at Rick, his dark disheveled hair, his homely skinny face, thin lips bent in a smile, Stan felt an odd a warmth. Sometimes when they slept in the same bed, he'd listen to the other man's heart beat, feel his skin next to his own and suddenly feel safe. Why? It wasn't love, Stan lied to himself. Well, he had to, because he wouldn't be Stanford Pines if… he let the truth slip in…He had a notion he wouldn't be Stanford Pines anymore, he couldn't call himself a real man.
They had finished unpacking for the day, and had settled down in front of the tv with some beer. When the phone rang in the kitchenette, Stan looked at Rick as if to say 'I ain't moving.' Rick sighed and got up he walked across the room to the ringing phone and picked it up.
"Yeah?"
"—"
"Mr. King…"
"—"
"Alright, Flavius! How'd you get this number?
"—"
"Oh yeah, I-I-I knew that!"
"—"
"Tomorrow? Sure I'll come, it'll get me out of the house."
"—"
"Uh-huh… yeah, g-g-got it Flavius."
"—"
. "Really?!" Rick turned and looked at Stan grinned. then laughed: "He didn't even say anything about that!"
"—"
"Just tell me where it is…? Yeah, uh-huh…yeah… sure mmm-hmmmm."
He had taken out the notepad and was scribbling down something.
"—"
"Yeah I got it, thank you Flavius you really are a g-g-g-great guy."
He got off the phone, put it down and ambled back to the couch.
"What was that about?" Stan asked.
" That was Mr. King, the Dean is having a little," he belched. "Get t-t-together for our department, w-w-wants us to get to know each other etc."
"Okay you go to that." Stan said.
"Yeah we can bring someone. You have a suit, you wanna go Stan?"
"Not really," Stan sighed. "Can't see hangin' out with a bunch of stuffed shirts being any fun."
"T-t-they'll be free food Punchy, and maybe an open bar. " Rick said.
"Why didn't you say so?! I'll go then!" Stan said with a chuckle.
Later in the night, Stan tried to sleep in his own bed. The room was pretty dark and it was unseasonably cold for the season, but that wasn't what kept Stan up. The strange noises coming from the walls, scratchings scuttling, creaks and groans (probably just some mice) got to him.
So he left his bed, and crawled into next to Rick. the other man rolled over and muttered something in his sleep. When Stan got in next to him he moved closer. And with Rick's heartbeat next to his he began to doze. Stan woke up to the tingly, intense and glorious sensation elements of Rick jerking him off.
Stan turned and smiled at him. Rick grinned back.
"Ya ready?"
"A-a-almost."
He pulled off the covers back, squirted some lube inside of him and mounted Stan's erection, slowly sliding down on it was torture and bliss, Rick set the pace, as he bounced and rocked on Stan's cock, one hand curled around his own penis. It was just as good as the first time, hot, sweaty, intense and blissful. Stan tried to hold back, tried to not come as the sensation mounted but it had been almost two weeks, and he hadn't exactly been jackin' it either. Suddenly it was too much, it was overwhelming, and he came, but managed to stay hard for a few more minutes as Rick finally reached orgasm and deposited a load on Stan's belly.
Rick rolled off and kissed him, Stan grunted and muttered: "Shit, I'm gonna have to shower now."
"Real grateful there Punchy," Rick said sarcastically.
Stan got up and wandered over to the bathroom, turned on the shower and began to get clean, singing to himself softly. It was a blue tub/shower combo so there was a little room when Rick joined him.
"Showering a friend to keep the water bill down?" Stan said sarcastically.
"Hey y-y-y-you're the cheapskate," Said Rick with a smirk. He grabbed the soap and washcloth from Stan and began to lather up.
"Aw geez we are queer aren't we?" Stan sighed.
"We're whatever we want to be P-P-Palooka," Rick said. "If you wanna be queer…"
"…That's the last thing I want," Stan said.
"Yeah I noticed, you never seem to return the favor, when I blow you and you never let me fuck you, Stan." Rick said.
"Well, yeah, I'm not —not a wom—" He began. Rick was glaring at him.
"—choose your next words carefully, Punchy," Rick began.
"— Interested in doing those things—" Stan started
"—You haven't tried them, so you don't know." Rick finished. "You are scared,Stan."
"WHAT?! I ain't scared of nothing!" Stan said.
"Except another man's dick to close you're fun holes," Rick said.
"I ain't dropping the soap around you, Rick," Stan said. Then stepped out the shower he found a towel and started to dry off,
Rick was still in the shower singing in that odd way of his. Stan thought it might 'Talkin' bout my generation' but it wasn't sure with the words replaced by 'lub-lub-lub- blip - blip-blop'
Stan got dressed: white t-shirt and jeans, put his contacts slicked back his hair.
The kitchenette of this apartment was cheap and shabby, with fading yellow paint on the walls and similarly faded yellow countertops, the linoleum which could have been white once was yellowing as well, also peeled and dented.
He poured out the cereal, added whiskey and milk. Started brewing up some coffee in the percolator. When the weird noises in the walls began again, he turned on the radio to the local top 40 station as loud as he could.
When the coffee was done he poured himself a mug and tried to enjoy it.
The shower went off, Rick came out, and sat down, pouring himself a mug of coffee and adding the whiskey to it. He didn't bother dressing, he just had put on briefs. The day marched on and on, they unpacked some and tried to ignore the 'normal' noises of house.
Finally it was seven o'clock and time to get ready for the cocktail party. Stan had an old suit, he'd picked up at a thrift store. It was black with wide lapels, single breasted, looked good with a white dress shirt underneath, he debated whether to use a regular blue tie or this cool red string tie that he'd bought at the same thrift store. Eventually choosing the blue tie. He looked at himself in the mirror that was on the door of his room. He looked GOOD, the suit fit perfectly as if it was MADE for him… but the tie… not right… to bland. He found the string tie and put it on, tying the knot stepping back. Yep he looked SHARP now, though it could use a hat. Something… original, not fedora or a trilby something different but he had no hats.
"Mothers lock up your daughters, Stan Pines is on the town tonight." He said with smile and then added: "Step right up, ladies and gents, see Massachusetts' creepiest apartment, admission is only ten bucks."
In a suit like this people would trust him, they'd like him, he could scam anyone.
He walked out into the living room. Rick was waiting wearing an olive green turtle neck and a pair of brown corduroy pants. He looked Stan up and down.
"Stan, w-ww-what museum did you steal that suit from?" He asked
"Shut up, I look good." Stan said.
Rick looked at him again and smiled. "Actually, Stan you do. Weird, a suit like that shouldn't look good on anyone, Punchy."
They turned off the lights, walked into stuffy stairwell locked the door, thumped down the stairs and walked out into the dimming twilight of the summer's night.
Neither one could agree on radio stations on the way, Rick wanted the college station and Stan wanted the local top 40 station. Since they were paying so much attention to the radio, they got turned around on back streets, went over the bridge twice. Until Stan found the directions in the glove compartment and read them out loud to Rick. The whole thing took place at the Dean's house, a large cream colored house on a well manicured lawn with one those roofs that looked like an old barn. Strange but classical music floated out from open windows. There was the sound of laughter, and conversation. Rick rang the doorbell, a chubby but attractive older woman with dark hair in a bob and olive skin answered. She wore a brown dress with a pattern of growing roses on it.
"I'm Sonia are you here for the party?" She asked.
""This is the Dean Pprior-Hill's house r-r-right?" asked Rick.
"Yes, I'm his wife." She said. "And you are?"
"Rick Sanchez and guest," Rick replied.
"Oh, this is your..?" She began a look of interest on her face.
"…Friend, I figured you wouldn't mind if i tagged along," Stan said.
She smiled. "No the more the merrier."
"So you're last name? Are you a Pprior or a Hill? " Stan asked as they walked in the front door.
"Neither," She said with a laugh. "It's my husband's surname. It's a very old new England name. My last name was Greenberg before I was married."
The was a trace of an New York accent, when she said it.
He had instant of understanding when he looked at her. "I'm Stanford Pines."
She blinked and wrinkled her brow. "What was that again?"
"Stanford Pines." He repeated.
"Oh," She smiled there was still a glimmer of bewilderment.
Rick was already in the living room when Stan got there. It was a classy place: off-white walls, with just the right vase there or painting here, some of it looked a bit shabby but more like shabby on purpose, sorta subdued way of telling the world how blue blooded you were without yelling it. Stanford suspected the things that were shabby were antiques or heirlooms. This would be good place to heist, if Rick wasn't working for the guy.
They entered the living room where this cocktail party was taking place. A table was spread with appetizers, another in the opposite corner with a bar. In the middle was a blue sofa and some matching arm chairs, also a few wooden chairs taken from wherever he dining room was.
Rick had already made himself a Manhattan and was talking with a tanned haughty brunette, in a navy blue blazer, matching skirt white blouse and pearl earrings. There were others on the sofa. A small bespectacled man with a big nose, light brown hair in a tweed suit with, yes, leather patches on the elbows. He was sitting nearby, seemingly drinking in what Rick was saying, but scowling near him was... Well, Stan could call her a giantess. Her hair was gleaming black, in a odd style so her bangs fell over her eyes. She wore a red cocktail dress and a gold necklace. There was old Flavius King, in that yellow suit, chatting with a tall grey pale man with a long face big chin and there were few others, younger more anxious in little knots or by themselves: graduate students.
Rick saw him and motioned over: "H-hey Stanford, c'mere, I want you to meet a few people!"
Stan wandered over to the sofa. "Yeah?"
"This is Dr. Ushas A. Hinter, she's going to the head of this whole she-bang. She studied at some university in Ireland. Galli— something.
The haughty Brunette glanced up at him, slid her eyes over him, like he was some bug and said, "Hello." She spoke with a cultured British accent.
Then slid her eyes away.
"This old rascal over here is Dr. Fiddleford Hadron Mcgucket, me and him were roommates at MIT. Both boy geniuses back then." Rick said jovially. "We were very close for a while."
Mcgucket blushed, as if Rick had implied… that him and Fiddleford did it? Maybe… Stan didn't care. Mcgucket was friendlier though he stuck out his hand: "Pleasure to meet you."
He had a soft southern accent. Stan shook his hand, it was a weak weedy handshake. But the guy was a nerd so, it didn't matter.
"That lovely lady in red is Mrs. Mcgucket," Said Rick.
Mrs. Mcgucket turned her head, smiled and muttered, "Call me Gina," in a husky voice.
"Right," Stan said.
"O-o-ver there, talking to Flavius, is Dean A. T. Pprior-Hill. He's probably gonna make some speech Stan, so watch out. And the rest are our little helpers- grad students." Rick said. "Not important."
"Got it," Stan replied. "If you don't mind, I'm gonna get something to drink and some food."
The Dean had good Scotch, he hadn't heard of it before -Talisker- but it was really fucking amazing. So he poured himself a generous glass with some ice. The appetizers were old school: canapés, deviled eggs, rumaki, things on sticks, hot clam dip, toasts with things spread on them. He dug in, getting a huge plate of everything, sat down on one of the beige chairs and munched away while he long hairs talked about their science gobbledy gook. The Scotch was giving him a warm, subdued feeling. He soon found himself chatting with the Dean's wife, she seemed like a normal person, more or less, it was small talk mostly.
"Sp," He said. "What's with the extra P in Prior?"
She shrugged. "Well, back when husband's family came over…long ago, normal people were just learning how to read and write. So if you wanted an extra silent 'p' in your last name you threw it in."
"Hmmm, weird why not change it?" He asked
She rolled her eyes: "Because 'that's the way it's always been spelled.'"
Then the doorbell rang. "I gotta go! A hostess job is never done" She said and bustled away.
Stan heard the door open and a vaguely familiar woman's voice say: "Sorry, we got lost."
"Don't worry about it," said the Dean's wife. "Just come in and get yourself a drink!'
A man's voice muttered on the edge of turned his attention back to his deviled eggs. When he heard a voice, he knew very well indeed nearby. He got up to see who if was who he thought it was.
Standing there in a ill fitting suit, horn rimmed glasses gleaming, was his brother twin Stanley. His brother turned saw him, he saw Stanley's jaw set, and eyes get hard. Stanford Pines felt his stomach drop.
That's when Rick got up.
""H-h-hey! Look who's here, Punchy, it's your brother and his wife, how long has it been, you two?"
He put his arm on Stan's shoulder in a jolly half-drunk way. Stan was at a lose for words. There was a pause in which it seemed the whole room seemed to stop and watch. Then the slight, curly haired woman beside his brother (What was her name again? He should know he was the best man at that wedding!), gave her husband a nudge.
"Far too long, Stan,"Stanley said, grabbed his brother and drew him into a fierce hug.
"Hey Lee, this nice but uhhh we're in public." Stan began.
The hug got tighter and heard his brother whisper in his ear: 'What the hell are you doing here, you bastard?"
When he was released he looked over at Rick, who was grinning from ear to ear, the asshole knew! He knew Lee was coming!
And Stanford felt rage well up inside of him, he pushed it down. As much he wanted the deck the guy, he wasn't drunk enough, yet. Flavius was also grinning, like a weasel.
Then Stanley's wife moved close to him. "Hey, Stan it's been so long, we really need to catch up. You know you have nieces and nephews now?"
Stan grinned. "I do? That's great uhhhh…"
"…Debra, I'm Debra, Stan."" She seemed friendly and open, unlike his brother. "Why don't you two talk."
And she walked away. It had been six years.
"So, how you doing?" Stan asked his brother awkwardly.
"Alright," replied Stanley. "I finally paid off the last of those bill you ran up in Europe."
"Heh heh," Stan chuckled nervously. "Look, I didn't think—"
"—No you didn't, you never do Stan," Stanley sighed. "I understand why did it, but…"
"Yeah, forgive and forget, why don'tcha?" Stan sighed.
Stanley looked him over. "Nice suit, did you steal off a corpse?"
"No," He said. "I got it from a thrift store and it looks better then yours."
Stanley's smile widened. " Yeah, it does. So tell me why are you here?"
"Long story Lee… long story…" Stan began to talk.
Stanley's smile widened. "So tell me why are you here?"
"My roommate told there would be free food," Stan half joking. "I think he knew you were coming Lee."
"And he didn't tell you?" Stanley asked.
"Naw, Rick thought it would be hilarious." Stan added sarcastically, looking over at Rick who was talking once more to Dr. Hinter.
"Wait That Rick Sanchez, the California Wunderkin is your roommate?!" Stanley exclaimed. "He's famous!"
Stan shrugged. "I never heard of him."
Stanley shook his head. "You wouldn't have but his papers, his theories, The thing's he's invented and the rumors of some the things he's invented! Also he's a polymath absolutely revolutionizes any field he's in."
"He looks fine to me," Stan said.
"No, no… a polymath is someone who's good at many different disciplines in science." Said Stanley.
"Oh, yeah… he's good at that." Stan shrugged. "So how have you been keeping?"
It surprised him but he actually wanted to know.
"Oh pretty good," Stanley replied. "I've been teaching at Princeton while I got my PhD. Also I'm a dad."
"You are? Way to bury the lead, Lee!" Stan grinned and slapped his brother on the back. "What are their names? What are they like!?"
"Well there's the twins Sarah and Marni."
"Twins again!"
"Yeah, I know Stan," Stanley smiled and looked a his brother knowingly. They are five, Sarah is tomboy and Marni is a little princess, they are both so different, the best of friends. Then there's Jason he's two and his hobbies seem to include rolling in dirt and pretending he's a t-rex."
He pulled out pictured from his wallet showing a passel of brown haired kids. Despite Stanley pointing out who was who Stan was having trouble keeping track. The talked some more, about mom, and misadventures they had as kids. It was going good, after all this time him and Lee seemed to be getting along again, like it should be.
"Hey, why don't I get us some drinks?" Stan asked. "You probably need one, with three kids."
"Yeah, sure," Stanley said with a smile.
Stan went over to the bar and practically tripped over Mcgucket, who seemed to be having a staring contest with a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle.
As Stan poured scotches for Stanley and himself. He looked over at Mcgucket. "Hey you gonna stand there all night or what?"
"I'm sorry," Mcgucket said. "I get really nervous at parties, usually a drink helps me relax."
"So then pour one, and loosen up." said Stan
"My wife says I shouldn't, she says I'll embarrass myself." Mcgucket replied sheepishly.
"She's your wife not your mother. I'd get myself a drink if I was you." Stan said. "You look like you need one."
Mcgucket looked up at him and grinned. "Yeah, why not." He reached for the bottle and poured himself out a measure of bourbon.
Stan poured himself and Stanley the Scotch, wondered if he could steal the Tailsker without the Dean noticing, naw probably not. He handed Stanley the drink and took a sip of his own.
Stanley took a sip of the Scotch. "Wow, that's smooth. Nothing like the stuff we used to sneak from Dad's bottle."
"Heh heh, yeah, Lee. That stuff was terrible." Stan said. "And you stole his cigarettes."
"You stole his cigars though." Said Stanley.
"I still like a stogie now and then…" Stan said.
"You think smoking will kill us like it did Dad?" Stanley asked.
"No," Stan said with conviction. "I know I can quit any time I want."
Stanley shook his head. "Yeah, so can I."
Stan remembered being seventeen sitting in a hospital room and watching Pop, who always seemed so strong, so tough and so big grow weaker and smaller. They took turns him, Ma, and Lee, watching Pop as he faded away.
Most of the time he was drugged to the gills and couldn't tell asshole from breakfast. But he could get lucid. In one of those moments when they were alone Pop pulled him over and said in that gruff voice of his: "I don't want to die like this, kiddo, it's hell. Please, I don't wanna linger. Put a pillow over my face and end it. It'll be a mercy." But Stan didn't, he couldn't he just left the room to sob in an empty hospital supply closet. Stan took another sip of the Tailsker. Pop didn't live to long after that.
Stan was pulled out of those thoughts by the sound of Mcgucket talking loudly about possum hunting with large wide gestures to Rick, The Dean's wife, Flavius King and some graduate students
"—Now when you git the possum, you don't want to kill it right then," He said."NOPE! Ya put the critter in a cage, and feed it on milk for three days, then it's good eatin'" Mcgucket was saying the southern twang in his voice had grown thicker.
Stan sidled up to Rick. "Geez, Rick how many did this guy have?"
Rick smiled wickedly. "One. Fidds has always been a lightweight. If you think that's bad Punchy, look at his wife."
Gina Mcgucket jaw was set and her fist was clenched, a picture of barely controlled anger.
"Oy, he's in the doghouse tonight." Stan whispered to Rick.
Mrs. Pprior-Hill got up with look of long suffering on her face. She went over to her husband and whispered something.
The Dean gave a smile and coughed: "Well since we're all here, Sonia thinks it's time I said a few words."
Mcgucket began tapping his glass with a spoon: "SPEECH! SPEECH! SPEECH!" he yelled then started to giggle.
Gina Mcgucket grabbed her husband's hand and said, "Calm down, dear. it's just a speech."
"Oh right," Mcgucket blushed and sat down next to his wife.
"Well then, it's just a few words I prepared." The Dean said and took out folded piece of paper from his blazer pocket. "Here at Miskatonic university we have one the largest collections of Esoteric and Occult manuscripts outside the Vatican. We are proud of that, but how exactly to interpret the secrets and knowledge from these texts? The old ways seem like hokum and border on blasphemy.
But thanks to Mr. Flavius King and his generosity we can now employ a 20th century approach to these texts. A new way to use the knowledge of the ancients to serve modern man. Technology, science and the occult have never seemed like a congenial mix, but with the genius of our leading researchers and the resources provided by Mr. King, I am sure, the new Miskatonic department of applied technomancy will be a resounding success! I want you to join me in a toast: To Miskatonic and the new department!"
Everyone raised their glasses there was a chorus of: 'Here! Here!' A whoop from the still drunk Mcgucket and Rick whistled. The evening wore on, Stan snacked on more appetizers talked with his brother and his sister-in-law. Rick talked shop with the egg-heads. Mcgucket attempted to show off his spoon playing talents but was thwarted by Gina.
At the end of the evening Stan slipped off to find the john, after consulting with Mrs. Pprior-Hill he found it. Mcgucket was now 'cooling off' in a guest room with his wife. He had no idea where Rick was. Stanley and Debra were yawning, mentioning that they should be getting home. After Stan had done his thing in the bathroom. He left, as he was closing the door. He heard a jaunty voice behind him say: "Took ya long enough."
He jumped. " Mr. King, I didn't hear you there."
"I'm sneaky like that, I gotta piss, old bodies need to do that a lot more than young ones. And it's bad manners if I wet myself."
Stan smiled awkwardly at the weird old man. " Right, uhhh… yeah."
"Hey before you go, have this," Flavius King reached into the pocket of his yellow jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "I hear you and Rick are the party boys. I understand. I may be old but I get around. That's the name and number of my dealer: Boaz Marsh. He's good, he's got it all."
"Uhhh…" Stan stared at it.
"C'mon, you don't know anyone in this town. Listen to me, Stan Pines you need this."
"Right," Stan said and took the paper. "Thanks?"
"Don't worry, I feel like doing you a favor," Flavius said. "Now if you excuse me, I have to urinate or ruin my suit."
Stan looked at the scrap of paper, and reflexively tucked into his pants pocket. It might come in handy, or it might not, who knew. He should find Rick and get out of here soon. Now where was he.
The Dean's wife was sitting on an armchair chair smoking a cigarette. She looked exhausted, She smiled up at Stan when he approached. "Oy, I'm not as young as I used to be." She said. "You're looking for your friend aren't you?"
"Yeah," Stan said.
She pointed her cigarette towards the kitchen door. "I saw him through there with Dr. Hinter."
Stan went into the kitchen and found no one. However there was a glass in the back. Stan stared through the door into a porch. The lights were off, but in the dimness he could make out two figures sitting face to face, leaning in very close. There was the orange glow of a lit cigarette.
"-if you know what I am, then you should be careful, Rick -" Dr. Hinter was saying in a hushed tone.
"-I'm not scared, you're the most fascinating woman I've met in a long time. " Rick said.
"—Really?" Dr. Hinter replied with more than a hint of sarcasm.
"—Do I have any reason to be scared?" Rick said.
"No," She began . "I'm kept on a very short leash at the moment. Besides you are equally fascinating, I've never met a man so intelli-"
Stan couldn't watch this they were flirting! He knew it! He shouted from the door: "HEY YOU TWO, THE PARTY IS BREAKIN' UP. YOU GOTTA GET GOING RICK!"
Rick stood up, "Way to ruin the mood, Palooka."
Ushas also stood and muttered something about boorish oafs.
Stan didn't care, so this chick thought she was better than him, because she was some kind of brainiac? Well so fuckin' what. It wasn't like Rick was going to leave him for her, they weren't lovers beside, just… just… what were they?
Rick stumbled through the porch door.
"You good to drive?" He asked Rick.
"Yeah, I-I-I'm fine, Stan." Rick said took a pull on his flask.
Dr. Ushas S. Hinter gave a sniff and turned her head and walked away, saying nothing to either of them.
"What a bitch," Stan remarked.
Rick shrugged. "She's not so bad, you just have to be on her level."
"And what's that?" Stan asked. "Way above normal people?"
Rick sighed frustratedly. "Yep."
Stanley and Debra were on the way out when they came back into the living room. Apparently the Mcguckets had just left. Stanley smiled at his brother. "It was good to see you again, now that we live so close we should… see each other."
Debra chimed in: "Meet the kids, they'd love you!"
"Yeah, sure." Stan smiled.
Dr. Hinter was talking to Flavius King and the Dean, Apparently the old weirdo was her ride. While Flavius was talking to the Dean, Stan saw Dr. Hinter look at Flavius King. There was expression of utter and pure loathing on her face. Why was she here if felt that way? Flavius caught him staring and flashed a cheeky grin. So apparently he knew but didn't care… odd.
Stan said good bye the rest of the guests: The graduate students, the Dean and his wife, creepy Flavius King and Dr. Hinter who ignored it. Rick was back at the bar, then came over slurred some farewells and they went out to the pinto.
Rick pulled out his flask as he drove and took a swig. He handed to Stan: "H-h-here, you gotta try this, Punchy."
Stan took a gulp and laughed. "Hey that's the Tailsker! What happened to the shit in your flask?"
"It's it's at the Dean's house in the Tailsker bottle." Rick said.
Stan laughed again. "You are one in a million Rick."
"Y-yeah, I am." Rick said with a belch.
Stan took another gulp, after the party he felt odd, this whole town gave him the willies. But Rick was here, so he guessed he was stuck here for now.
