Finishing a few phrases in a beat-up composition notebook, Travis shuts it and looks toward the entrance of the Engine Room where Nick and John are making their way toward him. ER, as it was more commonly called, is about like it sounds. There is an emergency room sign hanging on the back wall—of unknown origin. The whole place is lit with the bare minimum illumination required for human vision and is filled to the brim with knicknacks and show posters of most of the bands from Athens—everything from R.E.M., the B-52s, 16 horsepower, Pylon, and The Olivia Tremor Control. Despite the atmosphere of the place—black walls built around a barroom brawl waiting to happen—the conversation tends toward art and the meaning of life.

Nick stops off at the bar to order a drink, while John walks up to Travis’s table and sets his hand on it. “Mr. Fleeting,” he says mysteriously.

“Mr. Riffing,” Travis retorts.

“We have received several disturbing reports concerning your behavior as of late.” John is looking around the bar suspiciously.

Travis checks the bar as well, but nervously. “Are you from the Commission?” John nods.

“Look, you tell them that I was drinking four out of seven nights last week. I mean, what do they want from me?”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to…” and John leans in for emphasis, “buy you a drink.”

“No.”

John just wrinkles his nose and nods his head. “I’m afraid so.”

“You bastard!” Travis hollers as John walks away. A few people in the bar look to see what the commotion is, but Travis just smiles at them, and their glances go back to their tables and companions.

Trading places with Nick at the bar, John steps up to order as Nick moves to the booth with a Jack and Coke in hand. “Hey. Been here long?” he asks Travis.

“Maybe an hour. You guys should help me finish my pitcher first.”

“Nope. Liquor only. Doctor’s orders.”

“Oh really?”

Patting his side, Nick replies, “It’s my liver.”

“What? You have one?”

“Yup. I’m trying to lose a few pounds. I figure I can rot my liver from the inside out.”

“You do need to lose some weight. My God!”

“See?” Nick says, talking to an imaginary presence next to him, “You left yourself wide open for that.”

“Well,” Travis replies, “A porous liver is a light liver is what I always say.”

“Though not a useful liver,” Nick adds.

“Useful? What’s useful? Bah. What’s a liver good for anyway?”

Nick holds up his hands in ignorance.

“Nothin’,” Travis finishes.

“Not’in’,” Nicks adds in a Brooklyn baritone.

Approaching the table, John sets a pint glass of beer in front of Travis and sits down next to Nick with his own. “What?” he asks, hearing the last of the conversation.

“You could settle this, John,” Travis says. “You don’t need a liver, do you?”

“I haven’t had one for three years,” John replies with a curt codgerly nod.

Nodding methodically, Nick pretends to think before he asks, “Did you have it removed?”

“No. I ate MacDonald’s for three days straight and shit it out.”

Travis almost loses his mouthful of beer through his nose as the other two laugh hard. Choking his drink down, Travis coughs a few times and manages to get out, “Man.”

Nick patiently stretches his long arm across the table, and points to Travis’ cigarettes. “Breathe those,” and then he points to the beer, “drink that. Don’t try it the other way.”

“I’ll work on that.” Nodding quickly, Travis adds, “You know there must be a better way of losing weight.” Nick and John are in agreement. “You should try standing up every once in a while. That might help.”

“Woah.” Nick put his hands up. “Slow down there. Don’t talk crazy.”

“You gotta’ work your way up to that kind of stuff,” offers John.

“Well, when you’re the Fat Kid, you do.”

“You’re so fat, every time you turn around it’s your birthday.”

Travis laughs, “I haven’t heard that one.”

“Vicky told me that one last night, believe it or not.”

“Man, don’t ever tell her she’s fat.”

Nick shakes his head frantically.

“Can’t take it?” John asks.

“No,” Nick and Travis both answer in emphatic unison. “She’ll try to take it, you know,” Travis explains, “try to sit there and be cool about it, but she’ll just kind of quiver.”

Nick demonstrates, in his best Vicky voice, “Oh my God. They think I’m fat.”

Read the whole thread: Carousel Cowboy

Characters and Places: Athens, John Riffing, Nick Vaughn, Travis Fleeting