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I've just found out that there's a wrestling move called 'Sliced Bread #2'. How embarrassing. Anyway, that's not where the title of this journal comes from. I thought it up when I was in high school and always wanted to use it for something.
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Truth. Justice. Minesweeper.
Monday, September 27, 2004
"So I'll meet you at the office at about ten tomorrow," Cassie said, kissed me goodbye, and cleared out. I closed the door behind her.
"Well," Ron said. "Cassie, huh? She's pretty."
"Yeah, she is," I said, planking myself down on the couch.
"You like the women with the small tits, don't you?"
I looked at him. "Sorry," I said. "Is this the kind of conversation you and I have now? This is what we talk about? I must have missed something."
He held up his hands. "Just an opinion."
"Yeah, well. If I ever want your opinion, I'll go splash cold water on my face until I come to my senses."
"Very nice. So what's Cassie--a Time-Killer or a Puzzle Piece?"
"A what or a what?"
"Well, there are only two kinds of Dennis relationships, you know. There are the Time-Killers and the Puzzle Pieces."
"Do go on."
"I will. The Time-Killers are the women you like but not enough to have a real relationship with. You just sort of hang out with them for a while until they figure out that it isn't going anywhere, and they dump you, and you don't really care. This is what happened to you with Crystal. With that one chick who always wore the pink jacket. With Jeanine. Oh, and we can't forget Mona."
"Huh."
"On the other hand, your Puzzle Pieces are the ones you're really in love with. But your problem is you get too set in your ways and you try to fit whoever it is you're going out with into this strict little section of your life, and then you get pissed off at each other and break up. That's what you did with Annie and Suze and that girl you were going out with in high school before I knew you."
"I'm glad you've given my love life so much thought. I appreciate it. I do." The annoying thing was that I couldn't really criticize him on the same grounds. Ron's history with women is essentially a long list of casual encounters lasting no more than a week and ending amicably. At least, that's what it was before he started up with Linnet, who I still haven't met.
"You used to have three kinds, but you don't do the third kind any more. The third kind is the Bridge Out. Shall I elaborate?"
"Why not?"
"The Bridge Out is the relationship with obvious serious problems that for some reason you and the girl don't notice. Maybe she's a psycho, maybe you've got a crush on her sister, whatever. Anyway, the two of you get along fine for a while until you say something stupid--and you always did--at which point the relationship breaks down along its natural fault lines. But you haven't done this one since Yvonne in sophomore year."
I didn't say anything.
"What, what's wrong?" Ron asked.
"Why do my friends always have to tell me all this depressing crap about myself?" I said. "Well, Cassie isn't a Time-Killer, I know that."
Ron laughed. "Don't worry," he said. "I'm just pulling your dick. You've had other kinds of relationships. Look at Erin."
I had thought of Erin. She was a Time-Killer if ever there was one. Damn it.
"Well," Ron said. "Cassie, huh? She's pretty."
"Yeah, she is," I said, planking myself down on the couch.
"You like the women with the small tits, don't you?"
I looked at him. "Sorry," I said. "Is this the kind of conversation you and I have now? This is what we talk about? I must have missed something."
He held up his hands. "Just an opinion."
"Yeah, well. If I ever want your opinion, I'll go splash cold water on my face until I come to my senses."
"Very nice. So what's Cassie--a Time-Killer or a Puzzle Piece?"
"A what or a what?"
"Well, there are only two kinds of Dennis relationships, you know. There are the Time-Killers and the Puzzle Pieces."
"Do go on."
"I will. The Time-Killers are the women you like but not enough to have a real relationship with. You just sort of hang out with them for a while until they figure out that it isn't going anywhere, and they dump you, and you don't really care. This is what happened to you with Crystal. With that one chick who always wore the pink jacket. With Jeanine. Oh, and we can't forget Mona."
"Huh."
"On the other hand, your Puzzle Pieces are the ones you're really in love with. But your problem is you get too set in your ways and you try to fit whoever it is you're going out with into this strict little section of your life, and then you get pissed off at each other and break up. That's what you did with Annie and Suze and that girl you were going out with in high school before I knew you."
"I'm glad you've given my love life so much thought. I appreciate it. I do." The annoying thing was that I couldn't really criticize him on the same grounds. Ron's history with women is essentially a long list of casual encounters lasting no more than a week and ending amicably. At least, that's what it was before he started up with Linnet, who I still haven't met.
"You used to have three kinds, but you don't do the third kind any more. The third kind is the Bridge Out. Shall I elaborate?"
"Why not?"
"The Bridge Out is the relationship with obvious serious problems that for some reason you and the girl don't notice. Maybe she's a psycho, maybe you've got a crush on her sister, whatever. Anyway, the two of you get along fine for a while until you say something stupid--and you always did--at which point the relationship breaks down along its natural fault lines. But you haven't done this one since Yvonne in sophomore year."
I didn't say anything.
"What, what's wrong?" Ron asked.
"Why do my friends always have to tell me all this depressing crap about myself?" I said. "Well, Cassie isn't a Time-Killer, I know that."
Ron laughed. "Don't worry," he said. "I'm just pulling your dick. You've had other kinds of relationships. Look at Erin."
I had thought of Erin. She was a Time-Killer if ever there was one. Damn it.
I don't know how this city keeps it together. Here's the supervillain-related crime stuff that happened over the last 24 hours (I'm not even talking regular crime) (I get this information from Greyghost's database feeds):
-Greyghost beats the hell out of Murmur on Saturday night near the World War II memorial in that little square off Twelfth
-Bob and Cassie track the Professionals down to a hideout over by Cumberland and have a big fight with them, but they get away
-someone uses some weird kind of metal-shaping power to coat a high school with obscene graffiti made of metal letters melted into the brick walls
-Ms. Moxie, while on patrol, gets attacked by some punk who's learned how to build a laser cannon. He gets away
-Marauder busts out of jail (again), killing two guards in the process
-a suburban house burns to the ground in twelve seconds
-one street gang pounds the crap out of another street gang, making good use of one of their members' telekinetic ability
-a guy walks into the store where he used to work and turns his former manager into a small puddle of gravy
-a fender-bender on the Race River Parkway turns into a fistfight which is resolved by one guy picking up the other guy's car and driving him into the ground with it
-police arrive on the scene of a downtown bar fight on Saturday night only to find that everyone in the place has been encased in ice
-an invisible guy with a gun robs a convenience store. This might be Fade; I'm not sure
-someone in a blue power suit busts open a liquor store and makes off with the safe and a few crates of the merchandise
-the art museum reports some old expensive paintings missing, and the only clue is a human-sized hole melted through one of their back doors
-a werewolf goes on a rampage down Fourth before the cops gun him down
Greyghost's software can run stats on all this stuff. It's definitely getting worse, and not having Manxcat and Surefire around isn't helping matters any. Currently there are only six 'full-time' superheroes in Empire City (Greyghost, Torque, Perseid, One-Eyed Jack, Ms. Moxie and Moonshooter), plus four or five others who must have lives or something because they don't do stuff as often. It's not enough. I can't believe I moved to this place on purpose.
-Greyghost beats the hell out of Murmur on Saturday night near the World War II memorial in that little square off Twelfth
-Bob and Cassie track the Professionals down to a hideout over by Cumberland and have a big fight with them, but they get away
-someone uses some weird kind of metal-shaping power to coat a high school with obscene graffiti made of metal letters melted into the brick walls
-Ms. Moxie, while on patrol, gets attacked by some punk who's learned how to build a laser cannon. He gets away
-Marauder busts out of jail (again), killing two guards in the process
-a suburban house burns to the ground in twelve seconds
-one street gang pounds the crap out of another street gang, making good use of one of their members' telekinetic ability
-a guy walks into the store where he used to work and turns his former manager into a small puddle of gravy
-a fender-bender on the Race River Parkway turns into a fistfight which is resolved by one guy picking up the other guy's car and driving him into the ground with it
-police arrive on the scene of a downtown bar fight on Saturday night only to find that everyone in the place has been encased in ice
-an invisible guy with a gun robs a convenience store. This might be Fade; I'm not sure
-someone in a blue power suit busts open a liquor store and makes off with the safe and a few crates of the merchandise
-the art museum reports some old expensive paintings missing, and the only clue is a human-sized hole melted through one of their back doors
-a werewolf goes on a rampage down Fourth before the cops gun him down
Greyghost's software can run stats on all this stuff. It's definitely getting worse, and not having Manxcat and Surefire around isn't helping matters any. Currently there are only six 'full-time' superheroes in Empire City (Greyghost, Torque, Perseid, One-Eyed Jack, Ms. Moxie and Moonshooter), plus four or five others who must have lives or something because they don't do stuff as often. It's not enough. I can't believe I moved to this place on purpose.