Frank steps out

Chapter 9 Frank Steps out

The sun was making a rapid descent into the earth’s rim when Frank got back to his apartment. The precious map was folded carefully in his hand; he clenched it tight as the wind blew. Then he opened the apartment door.

“Oh Frank is that you? Have you got the map? Thank God you’re alright.” Art cried in one breath springing upon him as he entered.

“Settle down Art, yes I’ve got the map, and yes I’m okay.” Frank remonstrated pushing Art off like an overly excited child and handing him the map. Art eagerly grabbed it and poured over its contents.
The map was freshly printed on a very ordinary piece of printer paper. The back was completely blank accept for the little office logo which inevitably got scooted to the opposite side. Frank had not even taken the time to properly look at the map side. He sighed and came all the way in.
Dinner and bed were starting to sound really good at the moment so Frank hurried to his freezer. A large pre-packaged pizza greeted him there and he pulled it out quickly. The oven heated immediately with a great burst of flame. He opened the door and popped the pizza in.

“What kind of pizza is that?” Art asked behind his back. Frank jumped a little; he had half forgotten that Art was still in the house.

“Its pineapple and ham” he answered.

“Drat, I hate pizza in general but pineapple is the worst. “ Art complained.

“Who said you were invited to dinner” Frank retorted shortly. It was bad enough that Art always assumed things, but to complain was really too much.

“Well I don’t know Frank. I guess I just naturally assumed that we were in this together – at least right now. What are you going to do, kick me starving and friendless to the curb?”

“Of course not. Just don’t give me a hard time about the pizza. If you weren’t here I’d be ordering in. As it is I have to do the work myself. Do you think I enjoy putting pizza in the oven?” Frank demanded.

The timer buzzed and Frank pulled out his pizza. Its heavy cardboard pan sagged under the heavy weight of melted cheese. The aroma lifted Frank’s spirits considerably as he carefully slid the pizza onto the counter. Its crust left a faint trail of crispy garlic powder.

“I guess it’s better than nothing” Art said pulling up a stool. He and Frank exchanged testy glances. Frank unceremoniously stuffed a lopsided piece in his mouth and wished with all his might he had a TV to watch. A little TV distraction would clear everything up. Art gingerly picked up a slice between thumb and forefinger. A pineapple fell off and hit the counter with a messy smack. Art looked askance.

“Its rather hot to be gulping down so rapidly frank” he warned, “I say, you don’t have any ranch do you?”

Frank wiped the back of his hand across his mouth smearing his goatee with red sauce.

“Why on earth would you want to spoil perfectly good pizza with ranch?” he huffed getting up and finding the ranch in the back of the refrigerator.

“I’m sorry to cause you so much trouble Frank, I just happen to like ranch on my pizza. Do you have any of those little chili pepper flakes?”

“No” Frank answered shortly. He was having problems not thinking, and soon Art would be gone. This could be their last meal together. His pizza lost its flavor.

“Could I see your map?” he asked on sudden impulse.

Art dug into his back pocket and brought out the crisp square of folded paper. Frank opened it and stared at a strange crossword puzzle of blank blocks and diagonal markings. It was intertwisted with pictures and figures; and each side was bordered with fat little men in shaggy diapers apparently holding wands. Frank told Art what he saw.

“Heavens Frank! Those are Aztec hieroglyphs of unusual design and antiquity, diapers and wands indeed. The men are wearing their full tribal regalia and brandishing spears!”

“Oh, I see” Frank said feeling awfully dumb. “You say their holding spears?” He looked at the little men more respectfully. When he was a boy he had loved playing with sticks. Sometimes he imagined he was an ancient warrior from the forgotten past – until his Father caught him playing George Washington one day. His parents were appalled. If he closed his eyes he could still see their shocked faces and reproving gestures. How could you play such things Franky? Spears are dangerous and derogatory, so are muskets. Now days we know there never were such things as ‘savages’ or ‘indians’. Men never hunted each other with primitive spears, and the cave men were vegetarians. See. It says so in you text book. Spears are the invention of modern mans invention – a violent urge which should be squelched. We know how to behave ourselves better now days. Since then Frank had never touched a stick. They were silly. His eyes flew open.

“Art, I think I’ve nearly decided to come with you” he spluttered.

Art had been watching him closely and smiled satisfactorily. He had seen the wonder-lust fill Frank’s blank eyes for a mere second, and had seen the unhappy set of his mouth as he recalled some distasteful memory. He stretched out his hand to grasp Franks. The smaller man trembled and his pudgy face looked pale. Art held the hand tighter and said “Welcome aboard Frank, I’m overjoyed to have you with me. We’ll leave later under the cover of darkness.”