Sometimes it takes all I have in me to go to the grocery store. There’s absolutely nothing exciting about it. Everyone’s there for the same chore. You can feel the listless vibe in the air. But you’re not there to chill beside the tomatoes, you’re there to get what you need and get the fuck out hoping there are enough registers open to adequately handle the lines so you’re not forced to read about how messy Kim Kardashian’s divorce is and ponder what it meant that something so fucking meaningless garnered headlines and what that said about society as a collective whole and how only another world war would be enough to return civilization back to reality because everybody these days seemed to have a ‘for sale’ sign across their face and nothing real mattered except for what could take you away from your safe, uninteresting life. Fuck.
Anyways, I had my cart parked behind some slut who was on the phone with her sister and was half-heartedly flipping through ‘Country Home’ wondering why when I saw Fuck’n Jimmy in the next line over. I immediately returned the mag and walked over.
“Fuck’n Jimmy!” I was half-way over when he turned to face me and I realized that not only had I made a mistake but in the excitement of seeing who I thought was Jimmy again I loudly swore in front of some kids and had this angry hippo all up in my face telling me that it wasn’t cool to swear in front of her children.
“It’s ok, Tess. I haven’t seen this guy in over twenty years.” Ah, so it was Fuck’n Jimmy. I was a little relieved. But then I had to take a second harder look at him. Something was different.
Twenty years, Asshole, of course there was something different.
So let me tell you about Fuck’n Jimmy and we’ll all get caught up:
Jimmy was famed for his rolling ability. He could roll joints in complete darkness while walking or even climbing. Legend had it that one time Jimmy rolled a cannon while riding a bicycle in a snow-storm. Sometimes it was a tornado or tsunami, depended on who you were talking to at the time. Jimmy said that when his father was in Nam he was used to rolling up as everyone blew up around him and that it was passed along to him. Well, everybody had a talent but what a shitty one to have. Luckily Jimmy was also top-dog on the skateboard and had a cool leather jacket. When you’re fifteen years old these things mattered greatly. Above all that guy could get pussy like it was nobody’s business. He was that asshole that all the girls said they would never be into and the next thing you knew they all were riding his dick. That’s Jimmy for you: wasted at noon boarding better than you could ever dream to, a line of girls on the curb watching, all rough and smooth at the same time. Jimmy was the shit. That’s why it wasn’t just ‘Jimmy’. It was ‘Fuck’n Jimmy.’
Last time I saw him we had spent most of the night looking for open garages in suburbia and only at 3AM did we find one with a case of beer in the fridge. Our buddy Pauly was the one that went in this time and was caught red-handed walking out with the case when the guy opened the garage door to see what all the ruckus was about. Yeah, Pauly had all the subtlety of an atomic weapon. So, there we were sitting around at the graveyard across the street talking dirty about Pauly’s sister when out of nowhere he comes running up screaming, “RUN FUCKERS! HE’S ON MY ASS! HE’S ALMOST INSIDE OF ME!”
Good thing we managed to all run in the same general direction that time. We easily escaped him. We were young and used to running. Under the highway bridge four of us downed the case and drunkenly went back to Pauly’s place. Legend had it that same night Jimmy ended up banging Pauly’s sister, mother, and girlfriend at the same time…and all while rolling a big, fat blunt!
That was twenty years ago. I wasn’t going to ask him about it now. Hell, it was 2012 in Food Basics and Jimmy looked like an extra from the ‘Walking Dead’.
“How’s it going Jimmy. You look great! What have you been up to. You still skate?” I took a look at his wife and three kids. Yeah, probably not.
Jimmy laughed. He had four teeth left, for now. “No man, smashed my hip in a car accident a few years back. Lost my job at the foundry. Been making due with the little ones ever since.”
The little ones he was referring to were screaming at their mother who was screaming back even louder but none of it was working or even made sense. Jimmy looked like he was tired and wanted to rest his head against the magazine rack.
“Gaga Robot.” The large red one said. “Gaga robot!”
“Watch any good movies lately?” I really didn’t know what to say and was trying not to make it awkward which usually directly resulted in exponentially increasing it.
“Gaga Robot…FUCK!” The little boy looked up at me and smiled. Jimmy’s wife gave me the death glare. Christ she looked like my grandfather.
“There’s no way that’s my fault!” I returned.
His wife started angrily pounding cans on the conveyor. “Jesus Jimmy, a little help please! Can’t do everything by myself!”
When she bent over her pink jogging pants almost seemed to scream in agony and it looked like a couple of the items were going to lose their gravitational pull from the earth and start to orbit around her enormous ass. I thought I heard some of the strange earth noises that was currently saturating the internet emanate from down there as well but it could’ve been just me. Jimmy’s eyes began to roll towards the back of his head like he was about to pass out but couldn’t because Hell wouldn’t allow it.
“Well, Jimmy, it was really good to see you again, man. You keep well, my friend.”
“You too, man.”
I ran to my car and fumbled my keys trying to get in. It was nice and quiet inside. I drove home and opened the door.
“Hey, I ran into Jimmy at the store.” I said to my oldest friend who was always there because he didn’t know how to leave.
“Fuck’n Jimmy, Man!”
“Oh yeah! Fuck’n Jimmy…he still living the life?”
“Oh yeah man, nothing’s changed there.”
“Couldn’t picture it any other way. That cat’s made of gold. How’s he doing?”
“Jimmy’s doing great. Looks smashing. It was really good to see him again.” I checked my face. Made sure my nose was growing across the street. “Come on, let’s hit the pub and talk to girls we should be ashamed to even look at.”
“Let’s do this.”
I didn’t feel the need to tell him that Jimmy hit a real rough patch in the road, now had all the inner spark of a dead animal slumped over a rock and wasn’t ‘Living La Vida Loca’ so much anymore. It just didn’t seem to matter because he was still Jimmy and to all of us that knew him he would always be Fuck’n Jimmy. He looked like he was ready to bounce back anyways.
Don’t you fuck’n judge me.