Happy Campers
I think she cried at my funeral. Itâs not that Iâm conceited or anything, but Iâm pretty sure. Sometimes I can actually picture her talking about me to some guy she feels close to. Talking about me dying. About how they lowered me into the grave, kind of shriveled up and pitiful, like an old chocolate bar. About how we never really got a chance. And afterward the guy fucks her, a fuck thatâs all about making her feelbetter.
CHAPTER ONE
in which Mordy finds a job and a hard-core bar
T wo days after I killed myself I found a job here at some pizza joint. Itâs called Kamikaze, and itâs part of a chain. My shift manager was cool by me, and helped me find a place to live, with this German guy who works at the same store. The jobâs no big deal, but itâll do for a while. And this placeâI donât knowâwhenever they used to sound off about life after death, and go through the whole is-there-isnât-there routine, I never thought about it one way or the other. But Iâll tell you this much: Even when I thought there was, Iâd always imagine these beeping sounds, like a fuzzbuster, and people floating around in space and stuff. But now that Iâm here, I donât know, mostlyit reminds me of Tel Aviv. My roommate, the German, says this place could just as well be Frankfurt. I guess Frankfurtâs a dump too. By the time it got dark, Iâd found a barâan OK place called Stiff Drinks. The music wasnât bad eitherânot exactly up to date, but with character, and lots of girls chilling on their own. On some of them you could tell straight off how they did it, with the scars on their wrists and everything, but there were some who looked really good. One of themâdefinitely hotâcame on to me right on the first night. Her skin was kinda loose like, kinda droopy. Like someone whoâd done it drowning, but she had a bod to die for, and her eyes were something else. I didnât make a move though. Kept telling myself it was because of Desiree. Cause dying and all just made me love her more. But who knows, maybe Iâm just repressed.
CHAPTER TWO
in which Mordy meets a real friend and loses a game of pool
I met Uzi Gelfand at Stiff Drinks, almost by accident. He acted real friendly. Bought me a beer and everything, which weirded me out cause I figured he must be trying to stick it to me or something. But pretty soon I saw he wasnât onto me at all, just bored. He was a few years older than me, and going bald, so the little scarâthe one on his right temple where the bullet went inâstuck out even more, and so did the other one, which was much bigger, on the left side, where it went out. âUsed a dumdum,â Gelfand goes, and winks at two girls standing at the bar right next to us drinking Diet Coke. âI mean if youâre gonna do it, do it right.â It wasnât until after those two ditched us for someblond guy with a ponytail that he admitted heâd only chatted me up cause he thought we were together. âNot that it makes any difference,â he says, and head-butts the barâbut not very hard, just trying to chill. âEven if youâd introduced me theyâda gone off with some blond guy in the end. Thatâs just how it is. Every girl I meetâthey always have a blond guy waiting for them somewhere. But Iâm not bitter. No way. A little desperate maybe, but not bitter.â Four beers later we were shooting pool, and Uzi started telling me about himself. Turned out he was living not far away from my place, but with his parents, which was pretty weird. I mean most people live alone here, or with a girlfriend maybe, or a roommate. Uziâs parents had committed suicide five years before him. His mother had some disease and his father didnât want to go on without her. His little brother was also living with them. Just got here. Shot himself too, in the middle of
I think she cried at my funeral. Itâs not that Iâm conceited or anything, but Iâm pretty sure. Sometimes I can actually picture her talking about me to some guy she feels close to. Talking about me dying. About how they lowered me into the grave, kind of shriveled up and pitiful, like an old chocolate bar. About how we never really got a chance. And afterward the guy fucks her, a fuck thatâs all about making her feelbetter.
CHAPTER ONE
in which Mordy finds a job and a hard-core bar
T wo days after I killed myself I found a job here at some pizza joint. Itâs called Kamikaze, and itâs part of a chain. My shift manager was cool by me, and helped me find a place to live, with this German guy who works at the same store. The jobâs no big deal, but itâll do for a while. And this placeâI donât knowâwhenever they used to sound off about life after death, and go through the whole is-there-isnât-there routine, I never thought about it one way or the other. But Iâll tell you this much: Even when I thought there was, Iâd always imagine these beeping sounds, like a fuzzbuster, and people floating around in space and stuff. But now that Iâm here, I donât know, mostlyit reminds me of Tel Aviv. My roommate, the German, says this place could just as well be Frankfurt. I guess Frankfurtâs a dump too. By the time it got dark, Iâd found a barâan OK place called Stiff Drinks. The music wasnât bad eitherânot exactly up to date, but with character, and lots of girls chilling on their own. On some of them you could tell straight off how they did it, with the scars on their wrists and everything, but there were some who looked really good. One of themâdefinitely hotâcame on to me right on the first night. Her skin was kinda loose like, kinda droopy. Like someone whoâd done it drowning, but she had a bod to die for, and her eyes were something else. I didnât make a move though. Kept telling myself it was because of Desiree. Cause dying and all just made me love her more. But who knows, maybe Iâm just repressed.
CHAPTER TWO
in which Mordy meets a real friend and loses a game of pool
I met Uzi Gelfand at Stiff Drinks, almost by accident. He acted real friendly. Bought me a beer and everything, which weirded me out cause I figured he must be trying to stick it to me or something. But pretty soon I saw he wasnât onto me at all, just bored. He was a few years older than me, and going bald, so the little scarâthe one on his right temple where the bullet went inâstuck out even more, and so did the other one, which was much bigger, on the left side, where it went out. âUsed a dumdum,â Gelfand goes, and winks at two girls standing at the bar right next to us drinking Diet Coke. âI mean if youâre gonna do it, do it right.â It wasnât until after those two ditched us for someblond guy with a ponytail that he admitted heâd only chatted me up cause he thought we were together. âNot that it makes any difference,â he says, and head-butts the barâbut not very hard, just trying to chill. âEven if youâd introduced me theyâda gone off with some blond guy in the end. Thatâs just how it is. Every girl I meetâthey always have a blond guy waiting for them somewhere. But Iâm not bitter. No way. A little desperate maybe, but not bitter.â Four beers later we were shooting pool, and Uzi started telling me about himself. Turned out he was living not far away from my place, but with his parents, which was pretty weird. I mean most people live alone here, or with a girlfriend maybe, or a roommate. Uziâs parents had committed suicide five years before him. His mother had some disease and his father didnât want to go on without her. His little brother was also living with them. Just got here. Shot himself too, in the middle of
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