Flash fiction #4: The Tailor

Basel was able and ready, body and mind. He breathed slowly and tightened his shoulders, Paradise minutes away. But there she was, the shadow he feared most: big blue eyes, slinky black dress, also able and ready, body and mind, but to a different end and with a lighthouse smile. She drained Basel of his strength and willpower, and she filled that void with a change of heart, his fear now fully realized.

He slumped his shoulders, overwhelmed by failure and shame. With whispered prayers he asked Muhammad for mercy, blind to the irony that he himself would never forgive Manzir.

Despite crossed eyes Manzir was the most talented tailor in the city. He patched garments, sewed buttons, winked at girls with uncomfortable ease, and watched the sun rise and set with prayer. Today his steady hands altered the traditional Islamic dress Basel would wear to conceal the vest, which contained an unstable but easily obtained explosive mixed with nails and five-millimeter steel balls.

Manzir suggested adding screws to the mix. “It would be a good joke, yes, because you will be screwing them, yes.”

Basel asked Manzir to stay focused and finish quickly, so that he may be alone with Allah during his final hours.

“There is to be no distraction, no complication, nothing that may prevent me from living His will. His strength is with us, with me, but the fist of temptation strikes hard.”

The front door opened. “Did you not lock the door? You did not lock the door, Manzir. Why did you not lock the door?”

Nothing incriminating remained in the tailor’s shop, but even so Basel breathed rage, from his heart to his fingertips, from his fingertips to his toes. His head remained numb with peace, and he closed his eyes in prayer.

Their unwelcome guest sensed his anger, and she kept her eyes on Basel, his eyes still closed, and to Manzir she spoke. “I need this shortened by Friday. Is that doable?”

Basel completed his prayer and returned to this world, immediately shocked alive by the woman’s lighthouse smile and big blue eyes. A slinky black dress dripped from her grip, and a more powerful grip—temptation, weakness, humanity—positioned itself for the final strike.

Well hello there. Hi. How are you. Fantastic.

MY NEW APARTMENT
I've been in my new apartment¹ now for weeks. It's fantastic. Natalie, Elise and Claudia are the greatest roommates ever. It's been a few years since I lived with all women. I forgot just how hilariously different it is than living with guys, and also just how different your friendships with women are when you live with them as opposed to visiting² three or four times per week.

Anyway, the girls are fantastic. We had a housewarming party on my birthday. The weekend I moved into the apartment. The party³ also was fantastic. I'm not going to post any photos here, though, mostly because I'm on Facebook (and Twitter) hiatus until Tuesday, and all of the photos are on Facebook, under digital lock-and-key. So instead of party photos I'll show you our apartment's incredibly-racist-but-not-going-anywhere-because-it's-been-there-for-years-and-we-don't-even-notice-it-anymore-plus-we-tried-to-peel-it-off-and-it-didn't-work-out-too-well sticker on one of our hallway windows. If I had to take a guess I'd say it's been there since shortly after September 11, 2001.




MY NEW BEST FRIEND
Lazer. This dude is awesome. He's nine or 10⁴ years old. His mother was a dog who could predict when people were going to have epileptic seizures. Apparently they tried to teach Lazer the same skill so he could work as a medical dog. But Lazer had other plans. Like napping. As a puppy he was abandoned along with his sister. They were locked and left for dead inside of a shed. Then he spent most of his life in a Kingsburg, California shelter. I get the sense that he was there for six or seven years. The vet says his teeth are kinda mangled from having spent so much time chewing on the bars. He's never been in a city before. Ever. So living right next to Van Ness Avenue freaks him the fuck out. But slowly we're making progress.

Thanks to Lace for the pics⁵ below. Thanks to Emily for helping me rescue Lazer.








MY NEW TATTOO
Making progress. Next appointment is September 15. George Campise is the artist. If you click on the photo you'll get a nice close-up of the action. George works at Seventh Son.



1: Technically I guess maybe it's a flat because it takes up the entire top floor of a Victorian. Whatever. It's an apartment. House. Either of those are fine. The word flat makes me feel too British. Not that I don't love the British. I do. But I don't want to feel too British.

2: For the past few years I've been no stranger to my new apartment/house/flat. I probably spent more time here than any other place in the City besides my own. I've known Elise for maybe three years and Claudia for maybe two and Natalie for seven. We lived together on Hyde Street back in 2002. Strangely enough since then I've met two people who have also lived at the same exact address on Hyde Street: my buddy Mike's girlfriend, who lived in the first room I had when I lived at the apartment, the room that later became Natalie's room; and Emily's roommate, Max, who lived in the same room as mine, the second room in which I lived. The bigger one with the shared sink. Details which mean nothing to you. Here is the Hyde Street flat. We lived inside of the black circle, and most of my time there was at the end of the red arrow.


3: The theme of the party was The Letter D. David Bowie and Dionysus both made cameos. I momentarily broke my Facebook-hiatus to grab this photo. Also, you see that sticker on David Bowie's chest? That's a Broke-A$$ Stuart sticker. A couple weeks ago I became Chief Swagger Officer of BROKEASSSTUART.COM, which recently was named Best Local Website in San Francisco by one of those mediocre weeklies I used to read while doing laundry. But now I've got laundry in the flat so there is no need for the laundromat anymore. But I still go to Stuart's website. Why? Because I'm the Chief Swagger Officer. Mostly I'll write obnoxious pieces. Or more accurately pieces in an obnoxious voice.

4: My AP-Style game is way too solid.
5: MORE PHOTOS OF LAZER!!!