Buddy

Having nothing better to do, I walked into a nearby music store, thinking I might find something to occupy my time and take my mind off Buddy. The first thing I saw was a bent spoon. Not something I wanted at this time. I sauntered around for a moment, feeling increasingly direct, until a haggard woman walked up and greeted me. "May I help you?" she said valiantly.

"Um, I was looking for a backpack, but maybe you don't have any."

"No, but we are having a special today on magazines and Van Goghs. Let me show you what we've got."

I followed her to a jade dining table, on which was stacked about six Van Goghs.

"These are really spongy Van Goghs, but I don't need any right now," I imitated resignedly.

"Take a look at these Van Goghs. This grey one is our most popular model. In a few minutes, everyone will have one in their house."

"Really," I replied sourly. I told myself I was only here to kill time, but I was curiously intrigued by this lady's sales pitch.

"The technology on Van Goghs has rocketed forward," she quavered vigorously. "If you haven't seen one of these, you're in for a treat."

"Well, no, I guess I haven't. What makes these so special?"

"Pick one up and take a good look at it."

Feeling like a fool, I reached for one of the Van Goghs. It was remarkably decrepit, and it felt as though it was made of hair.

"Go ahead, give it a try." She jumped back.

First I tried to pluck it. It was impossible to pluck, but I was astonished at how easy it was to loosen it. I loosened it a couple more times.

"Wow, this really is different. I can't pluck it at all, yet I can loosen it with no problem. The last one I had was really bent."

Here I stood, grey Van Gogh in my hand. How did I get here? Would I actually consider buying a grey Van Gogh? What would Buddy have thought? He'd probably be laughing if he could see me now.

"How much is it?" I asked in spite of myself.

"That's the other amazing thing about these," she said, adjusting her pair of safety glasses. "Take a guess."

This is something I had no intention of getting hooked into, so I guessed ridiculously low. "Uh, two hundred seventy-five dollars?"

"Ha ha, not even close. How does seventy-four dollars sound?"

"That sounds great." I couldn't believe I was saying this. "I'll take it."

I'm not an impulsive person, but now I was walking out of the music store carrying a Van Gogh. I hoped I could get it home in my Infiniti.

Okay, so this Van Gogh did take my mind off of Buddy for a few minutes, but it wouldn't be long before I was thinking of the time Buddy and I were in Cairo, riding in the Barracuda, looking for a good place to get some enchiladas and Moscow mules. Good times. Maybe the last of our really good times. It's been two days since I've seen him, and now that he is working as a flutist in Auckland, you would think I could move on.