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Wallace Wells knows that he did not eat sushi on the twenty-third of January, despite what his credit card statement tells him. Wallace also knows that his roommate, Scott, is currently peering at Wallace's own computer monitor with the sort of concentrated confusion and determination that makes Wallace very, very nervous.
"Scott," says Wallace, gently, so as not to alarm him.
"Mmmm?" says Scott.
Wallace, having now known Scott for several years, is aware that this means Scott is not paying attention. He tries not to sigh too loudly or throw the coffee mug sitting next to him at the wall. The coffee was expensive.
"Why is there a twenty-nine dollar charge for sushi on my credit card from the twenty-third of January?"
Scott turns his head slowly to face Wallace. "What do you mean?" He blinks several times, eyes quite wide, as if he's trying to broadcast innocence.
"The sushi, Scott."
Scott frowns. "There was a reason. I think. A good one."
Wallace raises an eyebrow. "Describe this reason. What did it look like?"
"A bit like Kim."
"A bit like? Or do you mean that you just went out for food with Kim?"
"Possibly."
Wallace, who is stilling on the edge of the bed as all of this is happening, flops backwards and sighs loudly. As he does this, something pokes him painfully in his side. "Ow," he mutters. "I hate this mattress."
"Yeah," Scott's looking back at the computer now, but the look of intense concentration has faded. "It's really uncomfortable. I think you should buy us a new one."
"I should?"
"Well, technically it's your apartment."
"Funny how you still seem to live here with me, and sometimes pay rent."
"Mmm..." This is the sound of Scott avoiding conversation.
At this point, Wallace actually throws a pen at him, just to help himself feel better. Unfortunately, like everything else that's been thrown at Scott over the past two days, it smacks into the air about one foot from Scott's actual body and then slides down an invisible wall to the ground.
Scott, who apparently (and, Wallace suspects, accidentally) helped an elderly woman across the street two days ago, has been awarded a five-day protective force field. This is both a good thing for Wallace-- able to throw things at Scott guilt free!-- and an irritating one-- things never actually their hit target. Also, he really doubts that Scott intentionally helped the grandmother, no matter what Scott tells him.
"Gasp!" Scott takes this moment to snap his attention back to Wallace. "You know what we need, Wallace Wells?!"
"Um..." Wallace tries very hard to hide his terror.
"We need bunk beds!!" Scott's excitement at this idea is alarming.
"Bunk beds?"
"Yes." Scott nods the wide-eyed nod of a very, very determined Scott Pilgrim.
"Like, a bed, stacked on top of another bed?" Wallace feels more alarmed.
"Exactly like that."
"Like the kind that little kids sleep in when they're really young, and their parents are making them share rooms with their brothers or sisters, and the little kids totally hate it, and sometimes the kids get knocked out of the top bunk and it's dangerous?"
"EXACTLY."
"I'm not feeling convinced by this."
"No, see, it'll be perfect." Scott looks around the apartment. "This way, we'll have two beds, only, we'll still have all the room."
"Or, you could just get a job and find your own place."
"Why would I want to do that?" Scott looks confused. "You make me bacon."
Wallace decides to say nothing about this idea again for the next seventy-two hours. Sometimes it's best to just give Scott's ideas a cooling period.
--
The next Tuesday, Wallace comes home from work and his mattress is gone. Scott is sitting on the floor where the mattress used to be and looking very pleased with himself. At first, Wallace tries hard not to throw things at Scott, but then he does and his pen hits Scott right in the shoulder. (Upon seeing this, Wallace makes a mental note that the force field has finally worn off and feels simultaneously relieved and saddened.)
"Ow." Scott frowns at him, then grins. "Wallace Wells, look what I did!"
Wallace stares at the empty space in the corner. "I'm looking at it."
"Now we have room. For the bunk bed!"
"Scott."
"Yes?"
"Scott."
"Yes?"
"Scott."
Scott doesn't say anything.
"Have you purchased a bunk bed? For this space? Do you have one?"
Scott blinks at him. "No... not have. Not per se." He shrugs. "It's okay, I'm working on it."
Wallace thinks about sleep and how much he likes it. "Tell me about this 'working on it.' How would you define that?"
"You own the Internet?" Scott points at the computer.
Wallace tries hard to interpret this. He's fairly sure Scott does not mean the words that are coming out of his mouth. "The Internet?"
"We get things. And your credit card?"
Things become clearer. "You want us to purchase bunk beds. On the Internet. With my credit card."
"Yes," Scott nods enthusiastically. "I'll make you dinner afterwards? I'm good at making dinner."
"Okay," Wallace sighs. He's picturing many things in his head right now. "Here's what I need you to do. You need to go and help a grandmother across the street, right now. And then, when you've got that force field back, you need to come back home, so I can throw things at you and not feel too guilty about it."
"That sounds less fun for me." Scott shakes his head. "Besides, you can't just arrange for a grandmother to need rescue. The game bonuses are more spontaneous."
"I hate you."
"No you don't. You do need some bunk beds though."
Wallace decides to leave the apartment and buy a cup of coffee. He glares at Scott. "I am leaving the apartment for approximately 30 minutes. When I return, I want you to have a plan. The plan will be called, 'How Wallace and Scott are Going to Find Something To Sleep On Before Bedtime.' That leaves you very little time. "
Scott thinks about this and then frowns a little. "I didn't think about what we'd do tonight."
"Apparently not." Wallace heads towards the door.
--
The coffee helps. Wallace takes a long time with it, and reads over a copy of Details someone left on the table. (For the articles.) Then he begins the walk home.
Scott is on the phone when Wallace returns. "Really?" he asks someone on the other line, "but what about ones for, like, very tall children?" Whatever response he gets to this makes him sigh. "I don't see why. I mean, why wouldn't an adult want a bunk bed?"
There's some more talking after this, but Wallace has overheard enough to guess the situation. He leans against the wall, trying to look menacing and angry, and waits for Scott to finish.
"So," Scott says to Wallace after he hangs up. "Funny thing. Apparently the stores around here only sell bunk beds for short people. Like, really short people."
"Like, children perhaps?" Wallace asks.
"Just like that." Scott nods.
"Scott," Wallace sighs. "What are we going to sleep on tonight?"
Scott looks down at the floor. "It doesn't look too hard to sleep on?"
"I hate you. I am going out. I am going to call Other Scott and we are going to go out and maybe I will find some place else to sleep. And have sex."
Scott nods.
"If you do this too, I hope you are unsuccessful and have to come back and sleep on the floor and are punished."
Scott nods.
"Tomorrow, you will find us a mattress."
Scott nods.
--
The next evening Wallace arrives home. He's wearing the same clothes as yesterday, but he did meet some guy-- apparently a psychic in training-- who made out with him for several hours and then let Wallace crash on his couch. Walking towards the house, his thoughts are as follows: 1) 'Man, I'm glad that guy let me make out with him and then sleep on his couch,' 2) 'I want Scott to have solved this problem by the time I walk in the door,' 3) 'It is very unlikely that I will sleep in a bed tonight.'
When he walks in the door, there is no bed. There is, however, a Scott sprawled across the floor, making signs.
"I'm home," Wallace announces to the room.
"Don't worry!" Scott says from the floor. "I have a plan!"
Wallace is afraid.
The plan is as follows: First, they will hold a car wash. This, Scott explains, will earn them money. Second, they will call the car wash the "Help Us Buy A Mattress" car wash. This, Scott explains, will let people with cars know that they need a mattress.
"So then, someone with a car will just offer to sell us their mattress. And we'll be golden!" Scott does his 'nodding enthusiastically' thing.
"There are a lot if silent assumptions in this plan."
"Dude," Scott looks at him, insulted. "My life is a silent assumption."
Wallace has to agree to that.
--
Kim and Young Neil are both recruited for the car wash. They set up on the street outside the apartment and Scott runs a hose from the sink out the front door so they can wash things. Over the next five hours they wash exactly four cars.
Scott appears uncomfortable. "More will come," he tells Wallace. "We just need the word to spread. This happens with store openings all the time."
Wallace, who has been leaning against the house and watching-- he's not doing any labor for this-- pushes off from the house and announces, rather flatly: "I am going to Tim Hortons for coffee. Do not follow me if you are named Scott."
Kim and Young Neil do follow him though and they all drink a lot of coffee.
When Wallace gets back, all the signs for the car wash are gone and the hose that was running out of their front door is gone. Everything's quiet on the street and there's no sign of Scott. Frankly, the calm is alarming.
Wallace walks through the door of the apartment and finds Scott inside, sitting on the floor, but leaning against... a mattress.
"Tell me that's a new mattress!"
"Mostly new?" Scott looks pleased with himself.
"Do we get to sleep on it tonight?"
"Yes!" Scott nods enthusiastically. "And, I am making you dinner. And then you're forgiving me?"
Wallace thinks about this for a moment. "First, you have to also make me breakfast in the morning."
"Yes, Wallace."
"And I get to walk around without pants for a week."
"..."
"A week."
"Yes, Wallace."
"Okay, then I forgive you."
Wallace calls Other Scott to cancel his plans. "Sorry, Other Scott," he says on the phone, "Scott is making me dinner!" (Other Scott doesn't really seem to care or remember that they were having dinner in the first place-- probably because he knew Wallace just wanted to not-so-subtly convince him to let Wallace crash on his couch.)
After dinner-- which is good, because at least Scott can cook-- Wallace sits in the armchair and stares at the mattress sitting back in the corner of the room. With their sheets on it, it looks like they never even lost their mattress in the first place.
Feeling magnanimous, he gets up to do the dishes. Then flops down on the mattress to mark his territory a bit. Scott is at the computer again, looking at the monitor again with a slightly alarming intensity.
Wallace shifts around a little on the bed. The mattress feels lumpy in certain places. Then something pokes him painfully in his side. "Ow." Wallace stands up quickly and looks at the mattress again. On the Wallace-side, there's a very Wallace shaped depression in the mattress and on the Scott-side there's a Scott shaped one.
"Scott?"
"Mmm?" This is, again, the sound of Scott not paying attention.
"This is our old mattress."
Scott turns his head towards Wallace, blinking frantically and shaking his head. "What makes you think that?"
"Oh," Wallace looks down at the lumps and the pokey section. "Several things."
Scott nods and looks back at the monitor. "I may have just pushed it into the pocket of subspace at the back of the closet."
"May have?"
Scott nods.
"The whole time?"
"No comment."
Wallace sits back down on the mattress and enjoys the fact that it's not the floor. "I am not wearing pants for a month."