elephant joke
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“You can’t just hit someone with a pitch because you’re mad.” Mike says it gently, like he’s not sure Derrick is aware. Or maybe like he doesn’t want to bring it up in the first place.
“There’s nothing in the Book that says I can’t,” Derrick points out, maybe a little too defensive. He runs his free hand through his hair, and lets out a long exhale. “I dunno. I guess I got up there, and I just realized - nobody cares, you know. That I’m back. None of them remember me. The big players, like Boyfriend, they look right through me. So does the band.” He pauses. “They kind of did the same thing to you. When you were pitching, I mean.”
Mike sets his mug down on the coffee table, and frowns. “Kind of.”
“Didn’t it ever make you mad?”
(an alternate reality, a fragmentary dream.)
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- Part 1 of elephant joke
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Derrick doesn’t remember Chicago, because what comes after is worse.
He’s only in Chicago for a second, anyway. Long enough to be disoriented, long enough to feel his stomach bottom out at the idea that even with no blessings, the Garages had found a way to get rid of him. And then he’s in the Big Garage, and Chicago is the least of his worries because he’s drenched in blood.
(an alternate reality, a possible continuation.)
Series
- Part 2 of elephant joke