Make Way

I am in a gigantic car being driven around the city. But I don't think you call what I'm in a car. I'm in a gigantic vehicle, being driven around the city, and there is no end.

Slim is driving. It's really strange to see him driving. It's like seeing someone from work on a bike. If pressed, you would assume that that person knew how to ride a bike, but seeing them on one was somehow inappropriate.

I cross my ankles to keep from swinging my feet like a little kid. I want to put my hands in my pockets because I don't know what to do with them, and because it's freezing. Slim thinks I'm hot because I'm sweating.

I was sweating because I thought he was closing the offices of Weapon Mods. Which, I was surprised by this reaction, and briefly noted that something had broken through my Too Cool For School exterior.

It's not everyday that the owner wants to pop in and want to drive me around the city. He was either looking for a place to kill me or to explain that Mods had not been one of his more profitable investments.

I'm now sweating because he isn't talking about shutting down Mods, he's talking about expanding it. He's talking about starting his own blog, posting for himself, the whole deal. Where's my exterior now?

Slim drives listlessly, staying within the city but away from Thornbelle Street, away from the office. He says, "I just thought you'd be the one to talk to about it."

I want to text HELP to Atta, but if I put my hand in my pocket he'll think I"m doing it because I'm cold, and that would be awkward.

"Did you have an...idea...for what you'd be blogging about?" I ask. I'm careful not to look at him. He has a way of capturing people, I think that's why he always wears sunglasses, except now.

"I'm not sure. I think it would be technical," he says, taking a left.

Technical? What the hell is this guy talking about?

An ad comes over the radio, "...Never, ever shake your baby..." what about the owner of your blog? Can you shake him? I sit in silence, wondering if he's going to expand on his 'technical' comment but it's not looking like it. Why wasn't he talking to Atta about this? I'm sure she'd be more encouraging, more...sycophantic. Bingo.

"It's not easy," I say. "It's hard. It's hard to just keep writing. That's what kills blogs." I wasn't sweating anymore, "People get bored. Everybody just thinks they can start a blog, great, but when you don't write? They don't come back. I mean, you're at a stoplight, thinking about an awesome post? Then you think you're going to be a blogger all of a sudden?" I'm using words I hate. Blogger. "If you can keep up with the posts, fine. But if you don't write anything for two weeks, people just think you're dead." We just passed the Melodramatic Laundromat. "And that's the worst, that's when people don't come back. So, you think you have the time to post? Fine, by all means, post away. You know how many times I've almost posted my grocery list just to get something up?" I could Tweet my grocery list, but I'm flowing here. "And sometimes you have to say things that you know are going to piss people off, just to make sure the comments tab is working. Are you-"

"Ok, ok," he said in the space of ten seconds. I know this because I always count to ten to see if he's finished talking.

If he wasn't going to shut Mods down before, he was now. I would probably do well to be more agreeable. That's probably why no one ever asks me what I want on my pizza.

I hope I haven't talked him out of it. Now I'm sitting here wondering just what the hell Slim would have to say. What goes on inside that guy's head? And how would it translate to actual words? Maybe he'd be one of those people that just put up a bunch of pictures...but I didn't think so.

"I could take a look at it," I offer, "If you wanted me to."

"I would want you to," he says. "Have you eaten?"

I put my hands in my pockets and swing my feet like a little kid.