Sydney/Taree Australia
Part 14

As B and I unpacked the last of the cartons, I thought a bit more about the discussion we'd had, and how it had kinda gone around in circles. On the one hand, being upfront and honest with everyone was desirable. On the other hand, a guy had to consider other people's feelings, and modify his behaviour accordingly in order not to offend them.

"So that means my mom is modifying her behaviour not to offend me."

"Perhaps... but it's not likely. She's the boss. You're the son. She can do whatever she likes."

"That's not fair!"

"Fairness is a human concept, Daniel. You don't find fairness in nature. Fairness doesn't really exist. Just ask a zebra being chased by a lion, or a lion that's too old to chase a zebra. But these coffee mugs do exist. Can you stack them in the cupboard for me?"

"You're a fucking slave driver."

"That's because I've got a slave," the old dude cracked. "Waste not, want not."

"Can I ask you something?" I said as I stacked the mugs. "How come you don't have a best bud... y'know, like some dude your own age?

"I don't have much in common with most guys my age."

"Did you ever have a best bud?"

"Many."

"What happened?"

"They eventually went their way, and I went mine. For the time being, you're my best bud."

"Me?" Whoa! How the fuck was I gonna untangle myself from this mess? "But we can't be best buds, B! You're... well... kinda older if you know what I mean. You don't like music at a zillion decibels and all that other way cool stuff, and you dress weird."

"At least I dress," the old dude chuckled. "Anyway, I don't mean best buds in the same way you and Paul are best buds. Best buds can be a guy and his dog, a husband and wife, or whatever. They don't necessarily need to be the same age or even the same species."

"But I can't be your best bud," I insisted while trying to be diplomatic. "I mean, I dig you a whole bunch, B, and you're way cool company and everything, but... well, y'know... we don't really have anything in common."

"Yes we do."

"We do?"

"We both think you're wonderful," he grinned, causing his face to dissolve into a hundred happy wrinkles.

Hmmm. I had to think for a bit about what he'd said. "Do you really think I'm big headed?"

"Yes, I do. And the plates go in the next cupboard. Sue's and Lindsay's on the right, mine on the left."

"But being big headed is way uncool. I know some guys who think the fucking sun shines outa their asses, and they make me wanna puke."

"That's probably because you're in competition with them, or maybe there's a personality clash or whatever. As for me, I enjoy the way you strut around and show off. It's basically a performer and audience thing, with the rewards being mutually beneficial. If your performances received a negative or nil reaction from me, you'd stop performing. So I suppose you can blame me for encouraging you."

"Ah! So it's all your fault that I've got a big head!"

"I'm afraid so, mate. But it's not as though you're big headed all the time. You're not big headed in front of your mom, for example. And I know that Paul pulls your chain quite often, and gets away with it. It's like what we were discussing earlier. Shakespeare said something about all the world being a stage, and we're all playing our parts. So when we do something that works for a particular audience, we're encouraged to continue to play that part. In our case, you tease the hell outa me, and I respond in a way that pleases you."

"Yeah, it's wicked cool when you freak," I laughed. "So if you're my audience, who's yours?"

"In a way, we are each other's audience."

"So why haven't you got a big head? You get lots of comps from peeps who read your stories, and I know that Cody thinks you're awesome, not to mention Spencer Jimothy, Danny, and..."

"That's it. The last of the cartons. We can flatten these and store them in the garage. Then it'll be time to think about lunch. How about those hamburgers at the fish 'n' chip shop?"

"Cool! But you're avoiding my question AGAIN," I complained as I flattened a carton.

"I'm simply the messenger, Daniel. Characters like you and your friends are the heroes. It's not my stuff I strut, it's yours."

"Cody said you're the greatest story teller ever."

"He's biased," B laughed. "Big time! It's true that I quote his overly zealous remark to promote the site, but I would never in a million years have the temerity to say anything like that about myself. Now, let's put these cartons in the garage."

As I followed B down the steps to the backyard, then along the path that led to the laundry, which in turn was connected to the rear of one of the garages, I asked him why he was so modest.

"Modest? Now which one of these damn keys fits this lock?"

"There's a name on the lock. Check the keys for the same name."

"Why didn't I think of that?"

"'Cause you're not a teen."

Once inside the laundry, we went through to the garage, and stacked the flattened cartons on one of the many shelves.

"Are you gonna answer my question or what?"

"Question? Why am I modest? How could I not be modest with guys like you around?"

"But you're superior to lots of other dudes. You're smarter than Sue and Lindsay. Way smarter."

"I am? Then why am I looking after them instead of them looking after me?" he chuckled. "Anyway, what's the point of having a talent or a skill if you don't use it for the benefit of others?"

"I don't."

"On the contrary, Daniel. You bring light and joy into many lives."

"But it's not like I'm doing it 'cause I'm being generous or whatever. I tease you 'cause it cracks me up. So I guess that means I'm selfish."

"We're all selfish," he said as he led the way back to the laundry door. "If pleasing ourselves results in pleasing others, there's nothing wrong with that. What could be better than a win win?"

"Yeah, but when you win, you get all bent outa shape and grumpy."

"We all have our individual ways of expressing our delight, Daniel."

"Delight? What kinda lamo word is that? Jeez! Flashing my rosebud at you is a delight? You've gotta be kidding, B. It's horny, that's what it is!"

As we arrived at the back screen door, which led to the kitchen, it reminded me of something. "Hey, B? Remember this? The first chapter of my diary?"

B quoted the first line. "Hi, mom!" The screen door slammed shut as I headed across the kitchen to the fridge, dropping my school bag on the floor."

"You remember! Cool!"

"I was in an attic in those days, pumping and grinding on an old computer that barely worked. Much has changed since then, including you."

"How so?"

"Nothing stays the same, Daniel. If it did, it would be like watching endless re-runs on TV. Now, how about a hamburger with the works for lunch?"

"Woohoo!"

It was the second time we'd visited the fish 'n' chip shop, but this time it wasn't just the burgers that caught my attention, or my pecs that caught the attention of the women who ran the shop. Every now and then, they would glance at B, then at me. I guessed they were trying to figure out why we were together... an old dude and a shirtless teen. So I decided to satisfy their curiosity. "My dad says you make the best burgers in the whole of Oz," I smiled, and flashed my pearlies. Then I became aware of my American accent. Oops! "Uh, I mean my dad's bro. Yeah, that's it. My dad lives in the States. Heh. This is my uncle. He lives here in Taree, and I'm visiting. My dad's never actually tasted your burgers, but my uncle's told him how totally wicked they are." The more lies I told, the more shit I was getting myself into, and it was pretty plain that the women didn't believe a fucking word I was saying. "So, anyway, uh, I guess I'm gonna find out for myself, huh? About the burgers, I mean. Heh."

"That's strange," the younger woman smirked as she wrapped the burgers. "I saw you and your uncle here yesterday. You ordered fish 'n' chips, right?"

"Yep, that was us in living technicolor. Right B?"

"But I don't recall your uncle ever ordering hamburgers."

"I suppose I have a very forgettable face," B smiled awkwardly as he paid for our lunch. "But I must say that your burgers are very memorable." Then he glared daggers at me as we left the shop.

"I'm sorry B, I just..."

"How about we eat lunch down by the river?"

We were there in five minutes, sitting on the grassy bank, watching the gulls and pelicans. Actually, it was the other way around. A million beady eyes were focused on our burgers, obviously waiting for a handout. "Too bad, dudes. Go catch a fucking fish."

"Why did you feel it necessary to tell those women lies about who I was?"

"They were looking at us kinda weird, like you were a dirty old man or something. Wow! This is one helluva awesome burger, B," I said before taking a second bite."Mmmm!" The rest of what I'd said was muffled by all the food in my mouth.

"Well, if they weren't sure then, they are now."

It took a few moments for me to chew and swallow my food before I could speak again. "But you're not a dirty old man, B!" I insisted. "Well, you are, but you're a cool dirty old man. There's a big diff."

"Oh?" he asked just before sinking his teeth into the massive burger, causing half the filling to almost tumble out the rear end of the bun. He poked it back in with his finger just in the nick of time.

"Sure there is."

"So what's the difference?"

"Well," I began, then took some time to swallow another mouthful of food, "you don't hassle anybody. You're a gawker. But like who's not a gawker? I'm a gawker. All my buds are gawkers."

"So what's an old gawker like me doing in the company of a shirtless teen in a fish 'n' chip shop?"

"You know the answer to that, B, and so do I. I was just trying to let those women know that it was no big deal; that you were cool. But I guess I blew it, huh? I shouldn't have opened my big fucking mouth. My mouth was meant for burgers, not telling lies."

"Most teens would be embarrassed to be seen in the company of an older guy. Fact is, most older guys would be embarrassed to be seen in the company of a teen if they weren't related, or if it wasn't something legitimate like being a teacher or a sports coach."

"Are you embarrassed?"

"Nervous. Are you?"

Once again, time drifted by just like the lazy river flowing a few yards away from where we sat as we gobbled our food. "How come people jump to conclusions?"

"Because they're robots, and robots don't think. They're programmed just like those birds. We're human, we have food, therefore they'll be fed. One plus one equals two. All humans, according to them, are a source of food, at least potentially."

"So if people see us together - you and me - we're sus, right?"

"They have a range of options. They can see us as father and son, uncle and nephew, a couple of friends who love and respect each other, or a dirty old man who's taking advantage of an innocent teen, or...

"Or a dirty young teen who's taking advantage of a silly old fart," I cracked, and dropped a bit of beetroot and tomato on my crotch. Damn!

"That too. And that's where you made your mistake, Daniel. You tried to justify our being together when we were in the fish 'n' chip shop. But why? Why justify something that doesn't need to be justified?

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