Phone call.

He, Tommy, called me up the other morning very early, like six-thirty or so and, like an idiot, I answered.

 

-I’ve got a great idea.

 

He says, no hello or the rest. This is what I get for taking the job. He thinks he can call me whenever.

 

-Oh yeah, what’s that?

 

-I’m gonna roller-skate across America.

 

I can’t take him seriously because, you know – roller skate across America? What do you even do with that kind of statement, especially first thing in the morning. I don’t know why but I conjured up for me this image of Tommy in a skintight, flag-pattern unitard with a mirror ball hanging from a stick strapped to his back so that it hung over his head, skating down some straight, flat corn-field straddling road. Alone. Then I wasn’t sure if I wasn’t just dreaming.

 

-Eddie Izzard ran a marathon every single day for a month. He ran all the way around England, Scotland and Wales.

 

-Who’s ‘Eddie Lizzard’?

 

-Google him. The point is, this could be good press.

 

I had to think about that for a moment because I didn’t agree with him, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was right.  But I was pretty sure I was right. Mostly, at this moment, at this hour of the morning, I couldn’t deal with him.

 

-Better, why don’t you do the boroughs first. Do the boroughs, call me back.

 

I haven’t heard from him since.

 

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