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A Real-Time Saga:
E & G's Night on the Town
(Part 2)


So Gavin & I headed down some more lightly lit (heh, pun) streets and kept on going until we hit the dessert place. It was truly a downtown experience. On the left over here was a guy asking for some spare change - we said sorry, he said for us to have a good day (polite guy, huh?). Then of course came the obligatory sex shops of sorts. Well . . . no, I lied. This area didn't have as many sex shops. Actually, forget I even mentioned the sex shops, as there really weren't any down this street! I guess I'm just catchin' yer attention . . . . .

I think Gavin and I were discussing the X-men movie as we pseudo-marched down the streets. Yeah, we were talking about how it was crappy how it . . . oh wait, I almost gave out a spoiler . . . . . we were discussing the movie, okay? (It's a good movie and I recommend it, by the way.) All the while, I was pompously swinging around the plastic-wrapped, rolled-up pro-Canada poster. I had made a passive habit of this since we left the comic shop. Either that poster was some form of M1 Garand rifle, or a gleaming sword in my hand, or some other form of boyish imagination/ingenuity. At some point, I think I was twirling it along my fingers like a marching band major or something; I was just having fun. Well . . . as much fun as one can have while twirling a rolled-up poster in one hand - and blowing my nose with the other.

As we neared the ice cream place (Gav' pointed out an overhanging sign), I spied a Hallmark shop as we walked past it. Actually, I'm still not really sure if it was or not - it looked like it had a lot of cards in it, but I didn't really catch that. If it were, though, that would be pretty cool for us, since I'm sure we could've found a nice birthday card for Natalie while we were in the area. But, we were still walking to buy ice cream, and had no time for such things as of yet.

Finally, we reached the damn place, and all was good in the land.
"Okay," I ask Gavin, "so how does this work?"
"We have to get in line first."
"Oh." We got in line. While we waited to be served at the counter, I took a look around - holy time lock Batman! The street-lampish lights hanging off the walls, the bar with the high spinning stools all around it, the artwork on the walls . . . it was one of those places a person's parents would talk about in their youth; very cool stuff. As luck would have had it, they were very efficient too - people in line could look at the menus while they waited!

So the two of us were looking back and forth between the menu and Gavin's coupon. It was your standard 2-for-1 deal, sundaes printed as the dessert of preference for that particular coupon. It all seemed pretty good so far. Our turn came up quickly.
"Hi, what can I get ya?" the girl at the counter asked us. Gavin brought up the coupon, and how it was to work. Turns out you could get anything on the menu that was the same price as a sundae! I immediately changed my order to some chocolate ice cream thing; Gavin stuck with the sundae (and just so you know, there's total choice with these sundaes - you pick your ice cream, your syrup, AND it comes with a cherry!). After a little circus-act of us figuring out how much we should pay between ourselves, we were told to sit anywhere we wanted. I started looking around the area, and could only see a couple booths left (save the bar [where a couple guys were hard at work making desserts]). That's when Gav' told me there were more seats upstairs. He led the way, and I just followed, absolutely awe-struck.

We went to the second floor, and I found an even larger area to sit! A high ceiling topped the area with elaborate lamps hanging off it. As we sat at a small table in the centre of the room, I could hear some light swing playing on the radio, or whatever they play music out of at restaurants (it's a radio, right?). I have to tell ya, this place just got better and better. I sank deeply into my chair, unzipped my black fleece vest, and rested Natalie's birthday present on the side of the table (so it was a small table, but it was still big enough to hold this poster - just accept it). And then we just yakked it up like I would have expected we would have. My nose then took notice of the warm air in the place, and took it as an opportunity to run off on me again. I just sniffed it back for sake of not having a snotty tissue next to me.

A short while later, our desserts came to us (which is cool because really I don't think anyone was watching where we sat down (I guess with a place with that low of an occupancy at the time it wasn't that hard, but still). So Gavin got his (honkin' HUGE) sundae, and I got my . . . something-rather dessert (it had a fancy name, what can I say?). Either way, it looked absolutely splendid - the epitome of the ice cream craft. The waitress then gave each of us one of those long spoons they like to give you for effect; yeah, it worked. Actually, the spoon itself was a little sticky, and Gavin asked that he get his changed (me, being the passive guy I am just decided to rough it out). About a minute later the server came back with a new spoon and a smile. As for me, I just wrapped a napkin around mine. Hey, I'm here to eat food - I'm not picky as to how I do it (more or less, I mean I do have my limits).

So as I took a spoonful of chocolate and vanilla ice cream, Gavin brought up one of his preferred topics: girls.
"And yeah," he finished off, "she was just really dull, and never really wanted to do anything cool. And that's why I broke up with her." I just watched his mouth as he spoke and gave the complimentary nods and oh yeah's. "Ern, you have to make sure you get a girlfriend that's fun, okay?" I just smiled, and said,
"Yeah, I'll try to keep that in mind. Of course, that's still all considering I GET a girlfriend!"
"What the hell are you talking about?" he questioned.
"Well, if you haven't noticed, I'm kinda sucking in this category, ya know?"
"Yeah, I know, but . . ." I just rolled my eyes, he ignored it. "Just don't try to meet up with some dull girl."
"Sure."

About halfway through our desserts (everyone's finished off their respective cherries by now), Gavin out of nowhere goes,
"You know who I think you should really consider?" I let a half-smile escape from me. This should be good . . . . .
"Who do you think I should really consider, Gav'?"
"Not to pry or anything . . . but why not Eve?" Yeah, I laughed that one off.
"Oh man . . . ya know, I already tried that, and kinda don't want to have to go down that nosedive again . . . . ." he retorted,
"Well, I know, I know. It's just that I really think you two would make a really nice couple."
"Oh geez . . ."
"Seriously! I mean, you two always look like you're having fun together and stuff, and . . ."
"Dude, that doesn't have to mean a thing!"
"Yeah, but still . . ."

As we finished up our desserts (I was actually getting a little sick of mine - too rich), we changed from subject to subject, but all the while I was still subconsciously stuck on this thing Gavin brought up. I mean, officially I have no real intentions of vying for Eve's attentions - like I said earlier, "been there, done that." Still . . . . . oh, keep in touch, you tell me.

"Oh hey, I REALLY hate to do this to ya, but . . . would you mind sittin' tight for a little bit while I take care of some business?" I asked Gavin, nudging my head towards the door with the silhouette man on it. Gavin got the idea.
"If you have to, fine."
"Cool. I'll be quick." And just like that, I left my bud to relieve my excretory system. I walked quickly to the men's room, and . . . yeah, I'll skip this part for your sake:

Creak, zip, whistle, whistle, rustle, zip . . . . .

I had a pretty good time so far, all things considering. I just had to wash my hands, run the wet fingers through my hair, and I'd be good. After wetting my hair down (and consequently drying my hands off), my nose started acting up again. I took the opportunity to blow my nose. I went into one of the stalls, pulled out about four squares of toilet paper, and let blow. I slowly brought the tissue away from my face, taking care not to leave any undesirables hanging around. I then quickly brought the tissue back under my nose, gasping in horror of my sudden epidemic. I ran back to the stall to pull out more toilet paper; some of it I used to replace the dying sheet already under my nose, the rest I dampened and used it to mop the blood off from my lower face.

The way I reacted, it was your classical "oh-God-why-now?" frantic-person. I took some more toilet paper and twisted it into a plug of sorts. I'm sure you can guess where I put the plug, right? So yeah, I corkscrewed that wad of tissue into my nose and was relieved to notice that it was snug enough to stop any more blood-flow. And there you have it. My nosebleed remedy: shove tissue up your nose and leave it there for 2-3 minutes or so. I then stood there, staring into the mirror of the washroom, silently hoping to myself that no one else came in at this time (I mean, I know I'm male, but I'm sure no one wants to see a guy bleeding in the bathroom either, right?). I started playing some song in my head, trying to pass time. Well, I had time to, so I looked around a bit and soaked in the wonder that was the washroom; clean, well-kept, well-lit, and a nice colour-scheme. Yeah, this is a good washroom. Didn't smell bad either.

While looking around, I looked at the floor (carefully, since I still had this nose-thing to think about). I swore to myself, and got some paper towel out of the machine-thing. Another implementation of paper-hydration, and I started cleaning the drops of blood off the floor (no sense leaving my DNA everywhere . . .). After mopping up, I then noticed a couple drops on the bottom of my shirt. I swore to myself again, and tucked the end in as best I could to conceal the mess. Oh well, blood doesn't really stain all that bad for the most part . . . so I took another look around; I cleaned my blood off the floor, the counter, and my face. I felt like I was in control of my life again. Then I remembered poor Gavin still sitting at that little table, all by himself . . . . .

I was feeling lucky, so I pulled out another thing of toilet paper, hung my head over the sink, took a deep breath through my mouth (obviously), and pulled . . . no red "drippage" whatsoever. I then braced myself for the most intense part of the remedy - you see, yes I stopped the bleeding, but all the blood that was in my nose is still there, all compounded into a big jellyish-thing of red stuff; I had to discharge this blob.

So I took the thing of toilet paper I tore out earlier, took another deep oral-breath, and [WARNING!!! If you're squeamish, DON'T read the rest of this paragraph!!!] I blew slowly and steadily. The mound of blood came out with an audible pop, and threatened to tear a big dripping hole out of the tissue (it held). I wadded the dry ends of that thing together and chucked it into the garbage (as I did, I couldn't help but think that it really resembled a big red-and-white wonton!). I looked at my face again, and saw a fairly wide fan of blood around the bottom of my nostril. Luvly, eh? I quickly cleaned myself off, made sure I looked respectable (as best I could), and left that incident for what I hoped would be a fair block of time.

When I got out of that washroom, I found Gavin standing by the door, holding the poster, bored to hell.
"Hey, what took you man?" he asks, handing me Natalie's poster. "Was that like, a number 2.5 or something?"
"Uh, yeah, sure." He laughed (as he always does in such situations). "So whadayasay? We the hell outta here?"