Adver Blyth

"You're not dying, are you?"

"Huh?"

"Three posts in a week? Is that some cry for help?"

"Oh, fuck off," Adver laughs.

Adver Blyth is the head editor over at O.A.D.S., has been since the last guy threw himself out a window.

I hadn't seen it myself, but someone told me Adver had carved a mark into the frame of that window, like the kind of mark you see in prison cells, rows and rows of them.

We were having lunch now, or at least I was; Adver refuses to eat in front of people. But hey, he invited me.

"How are things with Mods," he asks.

"Fine, I guess. Readership is steady. Lights are on. OADS?"

"Good. If you can call endless psychotic rants 'good'."

I smile because we both know he's writing a little better than psychotic rants.

The server brings my soup and sandwich and turns to Adver, "You sure I can't bring you some coffee or something, honey?"

I should say 'waitress' here, not 'server'. A server does not say 'honey'. But Adver is unphased, and actually nods.

"I saw that," he says, "When you're writing all about this later don't act like my drinking coffee was some big deal, and none of your bullshit The-End-Is-Nigh! Adver-Drank-Coffee! prose, either. Please and thank you."

"You saw that. You act like you just saw this spark on my face like I was about to write the...pinnacle of-,"

"I did see it! When simple people get a big idea it looks like a bomb went off behind their face. It's just, unfortunately, never an actual bomb."

"'Simple people', do you not eat in front of people because everyone's praying you'd choke on something?" I grin.

"You never know," he concedes.

"I was thinking about your post, the one about regrets? Or, not 'regrets' exactly, but. Well, I had that too, the one where you couldn't decided which grandparents to go with? Except," I pause to chew, "it wasn't my grandparents. You know I knew Merghast when I was little? He's a little older than me. Well, one day I was supposed to go somewhere with these people, but at the same time, Merghast shows up. He's standing in the doorway holding this panda, I don't remember if it was real or not, I guess probably not. And they gave me the choice: go with the people I was originally going with, or Merghast and that panda." The soup was still too hot to start on so I kept talking, "I didn't go with Merghast, and sometimes I wonder how things would have turned out if I had."

"Like. That day?"

"No, I wonder if that was the fork in the road. Like, maybe I'd be super wealthy right now if I'd gone with him."

"Or dead. There's probably a chance of that, too," Adver reflects.

"You're so paying for this lunch."

"I can't believe you ordered soup, I will gladly pay for your soup."

"Why? What does-,"

"SOUP IS BACK SOUP IS BACK SOUP IS BACK," he yells while doing jazz hands.

 Suffice to say, I was a little taken aback by this, "Damnit, Adver."

When he stops laughing he says, "Who's 'Adver Blyth?"

"Oh, you never made up a pseudonym for yourself, so I gave you one."

He stops laughing, "You're not right."

"Well, I'm not going to go vomit or anything, thinking you're disappointed."

"Maybe if you had gone with Merghast that day, I wouldn't be about to murder you with an axe in the parking lot."

"You don't have an axe," I say, laughing.

"You really believe I don't have an axe?"

Adver, you're so funny.