Day dawned bright and miserable for Frank. Beep, beep, beep...An alarm clock too small to be seen with the naked eye signaled it was time to get up. Frank rolled over and stuffed his head deep into the pillow. Thanks to the automatic blinds light had not yet penetrated the inner sanctum of the room in the sleep apnea clinic. Still, the alarm clock could not be ignored. With each passing second it grew more insistent. Frank scratched behind his ear where the little device was perched.
"Getting the latest and greatest in alarm clocks was brilliant" he muttered sarcastically. One day he had bought it and put it on, and now he couldn't find it again to take it off. Some people were demanding a recall. Saturday mornings had never been the same.
Slowly he pulled himself upright in the clinic bed and flicked the blinds switch to "open". Silently they reversed there slides and a flood of sunlight poured in. Frank blinked.
"How long did I manage to ignore the bugger this time? he wondered aloud rubbing his head and realizing he had a splitting headache.
The gooey disks were beginning to itch dreadfully. Frank was tempted to peel them off - but the thought of messing up the test results and having to stay another night deterred him. Instead he got up and walked around the room a few times, dragging the wires and equipment cart behind him. Still no one came. He was just about to give up and start calling for assistance when the doctor and his entourage of nurses came in.
"Well sonny, you do not have sleep apnea" the doctor announced. Frank groaned as the nurses stripped the disks off him.
"If I don't have sleep apnea what do I have? Whats wrong with me!" Frank wailed already knowing the answer.
the doctor shrugged. "I only diagnose people with sleep apnea. You'll have to go elsewhere if you want to find out what is wrong." he answered.
Later that day a very frustrated Frank mentally dialed Arts number. His brain-cell rang for a few minutes and finally Art himself picked up the phone.
"Hello"
"Listen Art, you've totally ruined my life! I never want to speak to you again, I thought you were my friend."
"Umm, I understand how you are feeling and all Frank, withdrawal can be pretty tough. If it makes you feel better you can hang up on me."
Frank hung up without a click.
Silence.
The day stretched on and on. It was no good going to work, he was already to late to make excuses. Besides, everybody there would ask how it had gone and Frank was in no mood for questions. He was the one who wanted answers. Finally Frank broke down and called his only "friend", Art.
"Hello."
Hi Art, this is Frank."
"I thought you were never going to speak to me again."
"Don't be moronic Art."
"So, why are you calling if I may politely inquire?"
"I need to do something. All this quiet is killing me. What are you doing?"
"Well Frank, I'm at work."
"Oh."
"Where did you expect me to be at this hour of the day?"
"I don't know, I just can't imagine you acting like a normal human being . Every time your name comes up I envision a bright eyed, bushy tailed, beaver choking on corkwood."
"That's nice Frank."
Silence.
"Frank? Are you still there?"
"Yeah, I think my last statement was the best I've ever come up with. It just flowed out of me like it was rehearsed."
"Ah ha! Do you see what is happening Frank?" Art exclaimed wildly.
"No."
"Your brain is beginning to wake up and exercise natural sentiment the way it was intended to before pre-packaged, pre-approved, soap opera dialogue became your magnum opus!"
"Are you saying your excited I now think of you as a maniacal choking beaver?"
"Yes! What did you think I was before TV deprivation may I ask?"
"A very nerdy co-worker."
"Ah yes, the classic and unoriginal theme from oodles of comics and television re-runs. I can see your mental juices beginning to flow! Take care Frank, next you'll be eating carrots!"
"Uh, huh. Art, I'm beginning to regret my lack of determination. I shouldn't have broke down and called you - you are just a little too weird."
"Yes. so you've said. But remember I'm your only friend."
"Yeah that's my problem." Frank sighed.
There was a violent crash on Arts end. The connection grew fuzzy and distant. Frank thought he could hear Art yelling.
"Art! Art! Are you still there Art? What's happening?" he shrieked. There was no reply. The blood rushed to his head as he pondered what to do. Art could be in trouble, though heaven knows what it was this time, Art was so unstable.
I could go help Art, or I can stay here and continue to do nothing Frank thought. It was an agonizing choice. He wasn't really sure he was ready to see Art again. Whenever Art was in the vicinity awful and abnormal things happened. Franks headache was getting worse by the second. make a decision his body screamed at him, living in indecision was worse than not living at all.
No, I'm not going he decided, and he put on his shoes and found his car keys. Then he sat on the couch and popped a few Tylenol. His sneaker laces looked crooked so he fixed them. Absent minded he played with the keys he was holding, they jingled as he hung them now on his thumb, and now dangling precariously between his forefingers.
Suddenly the front door of his apartment flew open and shut almost as quickly with a loud slam. Frank dropped his keys. Art had stepped in.
"Oh my gosh Art, whats going on?" Frank gasped taking in a glance of Arts pale face and dilated pupils.
"The jig is officially up Frank, I'm running for my life!"
"What!" Frank yelled.
"They caught me at last. I was looking through the blogs I told you about, reading them Frank."
"That's what you were doing when I called you!" Frank yelled again in utter disbelief.
"Quiet down Frank, someone will hear you." Art warned coming all the way in and throwing himself out on the couch. He spied an opened half eaten bag of salted peanuts Frank had left out and started munching them.
"That you can eat at a time like this is completely stupid" Frank exclaimed beginning to pace. "If the world had needed further proof of your imbecilic tendency's they now have it."
"The mind is a strange thing Frank, before I was eaten up with anxiety because I knew I had everything to lose. Now that I've lost everything I find myself becoming more and more composed. A couple more peanuts and I shall be myself again."
"Heaven forbid" Frank said wryly.
"Of all the detestably overused terms that is the one I most despise. It really shows a certain level of vulgarity Frank." Art said closing the peanut bag carefully and rolling his eyes. He sat up and dusted salt off his chin.
"It's came to this sir. I've made a choice to maintain family tradition by becoming a low-life, against-mainstream, society madmen, and go adventuring in the jungles of South America."
"South America! Why on earth do you need to go to South America?" Frank demanded.
"Art bent his head slightly and hissed "I've found a map of clues connected to the one on my vintage cell-phone. They all point to South America."
Frank blinked. "And what about me? Are you going to just run off and leave me to deal with the FBI and the agencies, and the government, and what am I going to tell the boss? That I was oblivious to the actions of a guy I sat three feet across from in a tiny office nine hours out of twenty-four, five days a week, for at least two years?"
"Your imagination is growing Frank, and I'm sure if the situation you suggest were going to come about you would find a way out of it. But as the case stands, I don't think you need to worry about the boss's reactions in the least."
"How come? I don't understand." Frank objected wrinkling his forehead.
"Because you won't be here to see it. I'm taking you to South America with me."
"No" Frank gasped sitting down in shock. Whenever Art voiced something it came to pass.
"Yes, did you suppose I would be so ungenerous a friend as to leave you with all 'my mess', as you'd like to put it, and waltz away to glorious freedom?" Art was obviously hurt.
"That is not what I 'supposed' buddy. I am neither going to clean up 'your' mess or go to South America" Frank said when he found his voice.
"Why Frank, whatever will you do?" Art asked in real surprise.
"I'm going to stay right here in my little apartment and try to patch up whats left of my former life."
"But Frank! You'll get some new boring office partner and the effects of my TV addiction treatment will wear off, and your life will go on in the same way forever! Won't you ever get lonely and bored?" Art was in quite a pickle. Frank was actually moved by his concern.
"No Art. I am going to be a solid, valued, perfectly happy individual of our modern age. Its you who will wake up some morning in the mosquito infested swamps of South America and wonder what you are are doing with your life. Then you will realise that life is not worth living when you must live up to the hopes of a deceased great-great-great Grandfather named Arthur." The die was cast. Frank felt a surge of sadness mixed with relief. Now things could get back to normal.
"Gee Frank, I'm going to miss you. I may be the only friend you have - but you are also the only friend I have. Its going to be so lonely in South America without someone to talk to." Art was pleading now and Frank felt his resolve waver. Loyalty to his friend and habit made him want to give in.
Art turned and walked out the door. Frank felt an urge to follow him. It wavered and died. He stood their twiddling his thumbs.
Then the door burst back open and Art came in wild eyed. It was like a replay.
"Frank, my map! Its gone!"
"What do you mean its gone? I didn't even know you had it on you."
"I printed it at the office right before my escape from the boss. I meant to grab it and stuff it in my back pocket, but I must have left it on the printer in all the confusion" he groaned, "Someone is sure to find it and then the secrets out. Not to mention that I can't even start without it."
"What do you expect me to do about it?" Frank asked. Then he realised with a horrible lurch what Art wanted.
"I can't go back to the office Frank! They'd nab me for sure. I need you to go get it!"
