The Manly Pick-Me-Up (Post Hanako Bad End)

The Manly Pick-Me-Up

06-07-2012




It took a little effort to locate him, but nothing I couldn't handle.  My god, does he really live here?  I could say the neighborhood is a dump, but that would be an insult to excrement.  You could just imagine a film director looking at this place and say “I finally found the perfect spot to film my post-apocalyptic movie!”  I'm on edge, fearing at any moment mutant three-headed dogs would drag the slowest, weakest child into the sewers to devour.  Ugh.  All the piles of human and animal filth that line the streets are a nice touch.  Plus the smell.  Oh god, the vomit inducing stench.  Really brings the ambiance of misery to life.

I knock on his door, only to have it creak open.  Jesus.

"Hisao, why is your door ... like ... not .... work?"  I ask the almost human entity curled up in the fetal position with a dirty blanket in the middle of the floor.

"Robbers kicked it in ... saw I had nothing to steal ... and left.  Wished they would have killed me out of pity."

I can't believe he ... or anybody ... can live here.  A barely furnished ... actually, make that unfurnished ... single room and a closet and window on the wall adjacent to the door (or what's hanging on to the loose hinges for dear life masquerading as a door).  I was about to compliment him on painting the walls with an artsy design before realizing it's colored by careful years of neglect and stains.  And possibly molds. I sigh.

"Get up, Hisao, I'm taking you to a bar.  It'll be fun.  We can catch up and reminisce about Yamaku and stuff," I try to coax him into getting up.

"No, go away. Leave me to slowly die here alone."

I grab his blanket to yank it off him, but ... then had to rub the ... whatever unholy mess that was coating it ... out on his floor.  It actually made that spot on his carpet cleaner.  I have to get him out of here.  This is completely unsanitary, unfit for any living thing aside from pathogenic microbes.

"Go away, Kenji, I don't need you. I don't need anyone," his voice muffled by that filthy blanket.  "I especially don't need her."

"Ikezawa? Forget about her, man.  Get over it. With hot bitches we'll pick up at the bar.  Yeah, get over it with having filthy [expletive deleted] sex with hot bitches we'll pick up at the bar."

"I don't want to," he whimpered.

"You need to get laid, man, come on."

"No," he answers in between a moan and the sound of a dying giraffe.  I think.  What the hell does a dying giraffe sound like?  Or even a living giraffe.

He does not budge.  I try a different approach.  I see a sort of clean spot on the blanket and place my hand there.  Dear God, I hope that's his shoulder, "Okay, maybe we can both get laid ... and we don't need to go to the bar for that, either," I cooed with the creepiest tone I can muster.

It worked and he bolted up, "Dammit, Kenji, I'm not gay!"

I calmly retorted, "I'm not a [homophobic slur deleted] either.  That's not what I meant at all, I was suggesting we can hire some hookers and [expletive deleted] them right here, in this filthy squalor you call a home."

He lays down and wraps that filth blanket around him tighter.

"Come on, Hisao, you can't just lay there for the rest of your life in this ... decrepit [expletive deleted]box."

I take off my glasses and clean it with my handkerchief, "Listen, Hisao, the reason I'm here is because I have several apartment complexes, they're affordable, and ... clean," I gestured with the wave of my hand to all of his humble abode.

A cat jumped in from the open window and I let out a surprised, "Gah!"

He ... she ... it? ... whatever, I don't care, meowed as it rubbed against that lifeless, dirty blanketed husk on the floor. Hisao reached out and fed it a cracker.

A new plan formulates in my brain.

"So you replaced Hanako with a cat, huh?" No answer.

"You can't coddle her anymore so you do it to that cat, right?" Nothing.

"It doesn't have burns of half its body though." Still nothing.

"Does it at least have a blind yellow cat as a best friend?" Again, nothing.

"Over/Under in a month, It'll scream at you to stop treating it like a broken cat who needs constant pity care from you?"

"Shut the [expletive deleted] up, Kenji."  A response at least.

"Why don't you just tell her you're sorry?"

"I ... I don't know where she is," and I heard a slight sniffle from within the blanket. The cat continued to meow and eat ... and be a cat, I guess.  Since he's already taken the bait, I press on.

"Only a [expletive deleted] up like you could hurt a sweet girl like Hanako."

"I thought you hate women."

"I hate feminists, male or female, Hisao. I don't hate girls. Or women. Or sweet girls like Hanako."

He goes silent again, but I've gone too far to let him off the hook.

"So you're really just going to lay there and die, Hisao? You want me to write your epitaph? 'Here lies Hisao Nakai, died alone in some God forsaken slum because the girl he liked yelled at him.'  What do you think?”

The cat meowed.

“Okay, how about your obituary?  'Hisao Nakai, boring, nondescript person.  Died alone in a dirty apartment because he lost the will to live when a girl he loved rightfully screamed at him for treating her like a broken person' ?”

Not even the cat made a sound this time.  I'm not giving up.  I didn't go all this way to find him and plan to give up this easily.

“I'll give your eulogy, okay buddy?  'Dearly beloved who have gathered here at Hisao Nakai's funeral, all NONE of you because he died alone.  My friend here, his corpse in a cheap suitcase because let's face it, he can't afford a casket, died when a girl, a very sweet, nice, wonderful girl yelled at him because he's a retard who treated her like a fragile porcelain doll when all she wanted was to be an equal.  And you know, despite having several opportunities after that incident to rectify the sit …”

That did it.  A response this time. Quick too. I don't flinch when he grabbed me by the throat with bloodthirsty eyes.

"[Expletive deleted] you, Kenji! You don't [expletive deleted] know me!"

I calmly removed his choke hold without batting an eye, "Come on, Hisao," I put a hand on his shoulder, "Get out of here, stop waiting for death.  Come live in my apartment.  I have everything arranged already."

I put some change next to him, "Here's the bus fare," and a card, "and here's the address. Get dressed, the guard at the gate won't let you in if you look like a drug addict hobo."

His eyes are fixed on the floor.  I kneeled next to him and give him a reassuring smile, "You love your cat don't you? I'm sure it'll appreciate a better place than this."

I open his closet, a pile of dirty laundry littered the ground.  I spot a cardboard box and opened it. A pair of khakis and a dress shirt plus a sweatervest with an argyle design on it.

"This will do, now put this on after you clean yourself up." I take out a plastic zip-lock from my messenger bag, "Here's some travel sized toothbrush, toothpaste, and plastic comb."

I don't know why it worked, but it did.  He took me up on my offer.  He took the bus to his new home, cat in tow.  I'd like to think he gave a slight smile for having a second chance.  Or maybe it was his third chance.  He walked pass the gate, Allen the guard let him in.  He walked up to the address after passing it a few times, and rang the doorbell.  I'm sure it was almost identical to when he first arrived at Yamaku. Unsure, uneasy, but anything would be better than a hospital bed or that horrid apartment.  The door opened, the cat meowed, and there stood a violet haired girl whose eyes instantly recognized him.

"Hanako?"

This is where if you're an optimist, they embrace.  Tearful apologies are cried out.  And they make me a very happy landlord.  And they made me even happier when they moved out a few years later. Together.  With that damn cat, of course.

And if you're a pessimist, all that didn't happen and Hisao died there in that hellhole, bitter and alone.  The card with her address clutched in his hand.

I'm not sure about you, but I'm an optimist.