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“But he might not have. Which brings me to my next segment: What Were You Thinking Sending Him There?”
He shouts into the camera, “To Hudson’s team and the jackals at Galaxy Studios who, if you ask me, are responsible for this whole mess: What were you thinking sending him there? To the wilds of Silicon Valley? Putting his very life at risk like this? Did you think he’d be fine? Did you believe it was totally safe outside of L.A.? Did you not care if you risked his life? What? Do you have some hulking insurance policy on him or something? Hmm? Do you?” He scowls and raises one finger into the air. “You can suck my left nut for putting him in harm’s way. Suck it.
“And to those bitches out there still bitching because I haven’t spilled the tea on the engagement thing, I had better things to do, like praying to the god of all the gods while my Hudson’s life was hanging in the balance. The engagement is off, anyway. I heard it from my gardener’s uncle’s mistress, whose ex is a bartender at the Bev Hills Hotel pool. Apparently, he saw her hooking up with a certain director who she was married to back in the early 2000’s. But honestly, I can’t even because my world has been rocked to the core with almost losing Hudson. Which brings us to my next segment: Stay Safe, My Darling…”
Two Days Later
“Oscar, it’s me!” I’m on a video call with Gershwyn, who has positioned his phone so I can say hello to my little fluff ball, who is currently curled up in his bed. “It’s me, buddy. Hi!”
It’s Sunday morning and I’m bored out of my mind. I got released from the hospital on Friday afternoon and have been laying around the condo ever since. I’ve been on a call with Gersh for the last twenty minutes. I’ve told him all the gory (and terrifying) details of my spider bite and my hospital stay, and we’ve already gotten caught up on the important things like sports. So now that we’re out of topics, I’ve asked to see Oscar, because I’m desperate to stay on the phone. To be honest, the last thing I can face is another day alone.
Oscar opens his eyes halfway, glances around, but not at the screen, then closes them again. A second later, I’m staring at Gersh again.
“He looks skinny. Is he eating enough?”
Gersh rolls his eyes. “Dude, you can’t even see his body because he’s all balled up. And I promise you, he’s totally fine. Eating like a champion. We’ve been walking every day. But back to you, because I still can’t believe what happened to your dong.”
“Dong? What are we? Ten?”
“Hey, it’s a great word. We should totally bring it back, but stop trying to change the subject.”
“I’m not. We’re still talking about dongs, aren’t we?”
“Yes, but you’re not answering my question.”
Shrugging, I say, “That’s because you didn’t ask a question.”
“But the question was implied.”
“No it wasn’t. You said you can’t believe what happened to my dong.”
Gersh glares at me. “Which is a lead-in to a conversation. You’re supposed to say ‘I can’t believe it either,’ and then we talk about it.”
“I really don’t want to talk about it. Living through it once was bad enough,” I tell him.
He winces and shudders. “Just the thought of it makes me feel all queasy.”
“Same, which is why I’d like to change the subject.”
“Okay, but I just have to know one thing. Is it … working again?”
“Yup, it’s all systems go.” I give him a firm nod and a thumbs up.
“That’s gotta be a huge relief.”
“You have no idea,” I say. “Now, what are you up to today?”
“It’s better for you if I don’t tell you.”
“Oh shit, it’s a perfect surfing day, isn’t it?”
Gersh wrinkles up his nose. “Sorry, dude, but the waves are classic right now.”
I slump down a little on the couch, feeling totally defeated.
“But I’m sure you’ll have fun too.”
Shaking my head, I say, “How? I don’t know anyone here.”
