Zack and Kristene are moving. I’m also moving. But we’re not moving together. They’re relocating to an apartment, I’m relocating to an apartment as well, but on a different end of town. Zack and I will be living over 2 miles away from each other; this hasn’t happened in over 3 years. Our walkie-talkie system won’t work now; they only have a 2.5-mile distance. We’ll have to find some other way to communicate. Possibly though a mutual dead drop P.O. box at the post office or perhaps via carrier pigeons. Maybe, just maybe, we could talk with AOL Instant Messenger, but who knows.
I’m not sure how to react to this whole thing. It’s just happening so fast…
I was at Zack’s house last night (and their apartment, too). He found a refrigerator on Craigslist that he liked, so we had to go measure the kitchen space to see if it would fit. It will, perfectly. It’s almost like this kitchen was made for it. It’s not, that would be silly. But it does fit very, very well.
We took the 10-minute drive out to his apartment, measured stuff, and then he called The Iceman (the Craigslist owner of the fridge). The Iceman agreed to deliver it to Zack’s house.
So we drove back to his house and told this whole story to Kristene in graphic detail; she seemed preoccupied by her Avengers movie TV show spin-off. But then, all of the sudden, she started talking about how to make lotion, just out of nowhere. She told us a story about her coworkers and her making lotion-making jokes, and then she started to explain the joke to us.
Zack and I laughed when she explained her joke and the situation in which it was originally told. We laughed because she was explaining humor to us, not because the joke was funny.
Iceman showed up about 20 minutes later. He was driving a tiny pickup truck that had seen better days. I’m pretty sure he Fred Flintstoned it (feet through the floor) to make it move.
The Iceman had a friend, Camo Dave. We called him Camo Dave because he was wearing a very oversized camouflage jacket from the 90’s. They even moved the beautiful cooling machine out of the truck bed for us; we didn’t have to do anything, it was awesome.
Zacharias paid the man and then they hopped in their truck, put their feet through the floor, and left in a puff of smoke. I’m not entirely sure if the puff was from the exhaust or from their feet scraping the ground so quickly, but it was hazy regardless and left us in a coughing fit.
Zack began to reach for his inhaler to keep from dying from ozone-killing smoke. So, being the Medical Professional that I am, I decided to help him. I knew exactly what to do; I saw an episode of House once where this lady used an inhaler and sprayed it on the sides of her neck—like spritzing perfume—and Dr. House was like, “Yes, that’s exactly how you use it! You’re a genius, you old crazy cat lady.”
Zack was getting ready to put it in his mouth, so I jumped (he’s significantly taller than I am) and dramatically hit it out of his hands. I said, in my best authoritative voice, “No! Let me do it, I’ll save you! I saw this on House!”
He acted confused. It might’ve been from my sudden outburst of hero-esk action, but I think it was more from his oxygen supply being cut off by the bronchoconstriction. But it’s still debatable at this time.
So, I spritzed him with it on the sides of the neck, just like the old lady from House did. It didn’t seem to do any good, so I did it a few more times. There was still no change.
He was starting to throw his arms around and kick his legs at this point. I think he was being combative, which is fairly common when people are confused, dazed, mentally altered, or when their best friend is pinning their head to the ground with an elbow while trying to perform lifesaving inhaler maneuvers.
Then he tried to scream for Kristene. Really, her? Like she could help, she just makes lotion and tells subpar quality jokes about it.
So, in a last-ditch effort, I shoved the inhaler in his mouth and squeezed (I saw Albert Brennaman do it to himself in that scene from the Hitch movie). It worked, and he suddenly regained enough strength to shove me away.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t remember any of this. The oxygen depravation to his brain during that time was just too great and now he has memory loss for just that 15-minute period. He says it never happened and that I’m lying about it, but it’s really just a delusion of his because he doesn’t want to admit that I kind of saved his life and that he’s now indebted to me. Payment: 2 frosty’s per week for the next 1.5 years. Sorry, Zack, that’s just the cost of living nowadays. *ba da tss*
After he became fully alert and not angry anymore (yeah, fully conscious 20 minutes later and he was still saying that I was lying about it. Would I lie about that and then put it on the Internet? Really? Come on…), we worked out a deal and I bought their futon. They’ve been looking for an excuse to buy new furniture and I’m suddenly in need of a couch that can double as a bed for when I have guests at my apartment… And I ended up with a blue recliner of theirs too.
Really, I could almost recreate their living room in my new place. It might make it feel like they weren’t moving so far away.
No, that would be creepy.
It’d make a great Christmas card backdrop for us next year though…
No, it’d still be creepy.
Oh look, it’s frosty time! Where’s Zack? I need someone to buy my frosty.