basket weaving 101: Episode 2: enter buddy
Mark Little & David Wilson-McLeish, The Peak

Part two in a continuing series
The Shell House secretary peered over her bifocals. She looked around at the objects on her desk, moved them a bit to indicate how busy she was, then looked back up at the Roommate.

"You'll have to fill out a complaint form." With a sigh and a heave, she lifted herself up and meandered over to the filing cabinet. "Fill this out, this, and this." The secretary circled ambiguous regions as she spoke. As The Roommate filled out her form, the secretary ran out of objects to rearrange. "So, what's your complaint, anyway?" The formality in her voice was now replaced by a false indifference.

"Well, for starters, my roommates completely trashed my townhouse. The walls all have marks on them, there's always food left out in the kitchen, they steal all my food, and they don't pay for the cable or the phone bills!"

She punctuated this last statement by gouging her signature into the form. The secretary took the form, scanned it for any omissions, and informed The Roommate that an inspector would be by in a few days to assess the situation. The Roommate stifled a grin.

Wayne scurried along the frozen path from the Maggie Benston Centre to residence. He whispered surreal nothings to himself under his scarf, barely looking up to see if he should acknowledge the people that he passed.

"Cute as a button."

It was Lance's voice, addressing Wayne as if they hadn't just run into each other. Wayne was used to Lance's spontaneous informality.

"What?"

"Cute as a button! I was thinkin' the other day, what the hell does that phrase mean!?"

Wayne prepared himself for another bit.

"Buttons aren't cute. Who thinks buttons are cute? Seriously, the only way a button could be cute would be if it was excessively small and painted cute colours. But by that logic, even a brick could be cute, so long as it was a miniature, pink brick. Does this mean I can start saying 'Cute as a brick?' Fuck that. Fuck THAT!"

"You had me at 'hello.' Are you going to class now?"

"Nah, I was just feeling down - thought I'd visit Buddy."

"Is he up here right now?"

"Yeah, he got a job at the Mr. Sub. He's a sandwich engineer." Eyes rolled. "You should come with."

"Sure. Why the hell not." The pair walked back towards the MBC, choosing the longer, but warmer, route through the rotunda. They approached the Mr. Sub to find a long lineup at Koya Sushi.

Buddy was behind the Mr. Sub counter, diligently cleaning the sandwich board and looking slightly flustered. He looked up hurriedly and acknowledged Wayne and Lance with a nervous twitch of the head. The closer they got, the faster he wiped the impeccable counter.

"Moving at the speed of business, Buddy?" Wayne giggled.

"Uh, yeah guys, listen, I can't really - um, talk now," and he discreetly gestured towards the seventeen year old girl standing at the cash register and picking at her nails. Ignoring this statement, Lance cut to the chase.

"How's your groin, Buddy?" Buddy turned a rosy hue.

"How did you guys hear about that?"

"Lolita told us." Buddy looked relieved.

"Oh good. I thought it had, y' know, gotten around." The truth was, Wayne and Lance had found out about Buddy's groin injury from the award winning website maintained by his girlfriend, Lolita Haze. www.retardedpicturesofbuddy.com had earned Lolita numerous web awards for originality and creativity, not to mention good old-fashioned humour. Not only was Buddy unaware that this website existed, but also that it was the only reason he and Lolita were still together. The concept behind www.retardedpicturesofbuddy.com was that Lolita would take pictures of Buddy in awkward and unflattering positions. Often, Buddy would provide these positions inadvertently, but sometimes Lolita would have to take matters into her own hands. Most recently, Lolita had "accidentally" hit Buddy in the groin with an iron.

"So, how did it happen?"

"Well, Lolita was just swinging the iron around - y'know, to like, cool it off, or something. Anyway, it slipped and, well, you know..."

Wayne and Lance both pictured Lolita Haze whipping the iron around her head, straining like an Olympic hammer thrower as she released, her free hand reaching into her pocket for her joycam. Cleeeek!

"It could have happened to anyone."

"Yeah, well, anyway. It's got me thinking. I don't know if I want to be dating such a klutz."

Wanye and Lance saw their beloved website slipping away, like the picture of Marty McFly in Back To The Future.

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