When I met with PAJ's resident expert
Ovaltine Goose-Shredder he was lying facedown on his and his wife's
bed, wearing the same clothes he wore to last weeks press conference.
The situation was set in the same place it had been three years
earlier, the first time I had tried to convince him it wasn't his
fault his wife was dead. This time around was dramatically easier,
since three years earlier Karen had died because Goose-Shredder blew
up their house trying to see how accurate Vince Gilligan's meth recipe was. Now, after a reanimation of her dead body by
Goose-Shredder and her subsequent trip to Antarctica, Karen is
presumed to be either lost at sea or murdered at the hands of the
biometric robocop horde, but either way most certainly dead. The
following is a transcript of the conversation I had with Ovaltine
Goose-Shredder late Thursday.
Ovaltine Goose-Shredder: [muffled by
pillow] Betty. Betty! It happened again.
James Betty: I know.
OGS: [muffled] This pillow still smells
like her.
JB: She was a walking corpse, nothing
gets that smell out.
OGS: I've washed it so many times.
JB: Maybe try real detergent, instead
of that stuff you make in your basement.
OGS: [sitting up] Don't badmouth
Sparkle-Time Handy Wash! When the dollar tanks, who's going to make
your laundry soap? Because it's not going to be me!
JB: I'm sorry, buddy.
OGS: [slams face back into pillow] I
make great soap.
JB: No you don't.
OGS: [muffled] Who's side are you on?
JB: Truth and justice. I'm a journalist, remember?
JB: Hey....
OGS: [still laughing]
JB: That hurts...
OGS: [still laughing]
JB: Why do people I know laugh when I
act like a real journalist?
OGS: Hey... do you remember that thing
you thought of that wasn't so sad?
JB: Are you changing the subject away
from my career so I'm not so sad?
OGS: ... Yes.
JB: How did that whole sentence not
refer to anything specific and still manage to achieve it's goal so
well?
OGS: It's called friendship, buddy.
JB: Is it?
OGS: Bring it in.
JB: What?
OGS: [moves in for a hug] Lets hug it
out.
JB: Don't come at me like that. Not on
your bed...
OGS: [hugging James Betty] Shhhhh,
don't fight me.
JB: This is so awkward.
OGS: [still hugging] It's called
friendship.
JB: No it's not. Not like this.
OGS: [releases hug] I can't believe my
wife's maybe dead again.
JB: It's probably about time you
started dropping the maybe from that sentence.
OGS: [slams face into pillow] Noooo!
JB: You need to accept that she's
really gone this time, and you can't hang your hopes on re-animation
again because she will never be found. I'm sorry. She won't.
OGS: [muffled] She can't be gone again!
I let her go to Antarctica and if she's dead again it's all my fault
again!
JB: What were you supposed to do, chain
her to the dock? You know Karen, if she wanted to go to Antarctica
she was going to go to Antarctica. You can't let this one be your
fault. Let it be her decision.
OGS: [muffled] Hey Betty, don't take
this the wrong way, but how about you fuck off for a while?
JB: That's not very nice, in fact it
makes me prefer the awkward hug right now.
OGS: [sitting up, yelling] So fuck off
or I'll find another awkward hug for you!
JB: [confused silence]
OGS: [enjoying the silence]
JB: At least you didn't blow her up
this time.
OGS: Yeah, I actually feel way better
about this one. Small miracles, right?
JB: Not many people know what it's like
to accidentally kill their wife for the second time, you should
probably write a paper about this.
OGS: [jumping out of bed] I must tell
the masses! Find me a pen, I'm going to eat some soup.
JB: I think you just ripped off
Hemingway.
So Goose-Shredder is up and about, and
that's a good sign. His friends still can't convince him to hold a
funeral for Karen, but feel that the baby-steps he's taken in the
last few days are encouraging enough.
[Ed. Note: Hemingway
did not say “Find me
a pen, I'm going to eat some soup.”]