Jonathan Hated That Guy
by chris otchy
by chris otchy
Jonathan walked into Golden Gate Park with a floppy straw hat on his head and a banana yellow frisbee under his arm. Kids were splayed out on the grass like polka dots, lying on beach blankets, chasing each other around, sipping drinks, bumming cigarettes. He was looking for some fun, and the park looked to him like a fun factory waiting to happen. He scanned the area, seeing what direction he should head in, sending out his fun-feelers like a dolphin sending out echo radar. Suddenly, he saw her—a gorgeous, blonde, California maiden about 100 yards away, topless, playing with a golden retriever. All Jonathan’s internal alarms began to chime simultaneously: Fun, straight ahead.
When he got a little closer, Jonathan realized, to his chargrin, that she was not topless—she was wearing a flesh-colored bikini top. He kept on his course regardless, and when he was about 15 feet away, the girl’s dog charged into him, snuffling his head tightly into Jonathan’s crotch, giving his privates a little one-on-one attention.
“Teela, down girl, no!” the girl said in one hurried breath. “I’m so sorry! She’s has no manners. No, Teela, down!”
Jonathan put his hand over the dog’s head playfully, even though it was really awkward. The wind blew her hair toward him and Jonathan could smell patchouli. “It’s cool,” he exclaimed, “I love dogs!”
“Oh, me too!” the girl said. She rubbed the dog’s rump, her blue fingernails peeking out between its thick fur. She looked up at
Jonathan, and her hazel eyes locked onto his like the Death Star coming into port. “Hey man, I know this might sound a little weird, but you look like a pretty hip guy. You know where I can score some grass? I was supposed to meet a buddy of mine up here, but he never showed.”Jonathan just stared at her for a second, mesmerized by her buttery gaze. “Oh, you need some grass?” he finally said. “I think I might be able to help you out.”
“Yeah? That would be really cool, man. My boyfriend Kenan and I really wanted to get some and we’re totally out.”
“Kenan?” Jonathan said, stroking his chin. “Not… Kenan Cardellini, right?”
“Yeah, that’s him,” she said laughing. “Why, you know him?”
The skin of Jonathan’s forehead tightened. “Yeah,” he said, forcing the corners of his mouth upward, “sorta.”
Jonathan remembered Kenan Cardellini--of course he remembered him. It had been years since he heard that name, but oh yes, he remembered. How could he forget the man who single handedly destroyed his music career?
(Read on).
