Pulp Friday Delayed

A little trip to Minnesota for some unsuccessful ice fishing necessitated the delay. Now, on with Pulp Friday, even though it's Tuesday...

Previously on Pulp Friday:

PF 1
PF 2

It's absurd.

It doesn't make the slightest lick of sense.

How could I find a photo of my dead wife sewn into a damp handkerchief I just found on the floor of my apartment after I'd just been clocked in the head by own front door by some unwelcome visitors?

Things are just getting too weird when there's a knock on my front door.

On instinct, I go to open the door, but the large identation in the wood reminds me I've just had intruders. I snatch up the baseball bat from the floor, put on my gruffest voice and say, "Yeah, who is it?"

"It's Brian. You wanna keep it down in there? My kid's trying to sleep."

My downstairs neighbor. Him and his loony wife don't believe in babysitters, and like everyone else in the building, they're a long way from wealth. So one of them works days and the other works nights so that someone's with their child all of the time. I don't think it's helped the kid's development any and it's certainly damaged the parents. Brian works from 4 a.m. until 3 p.m., so he's always grouchy by early evening when I return to the building. I'm inevitably disturbing some combination of him and/or his kid, so this is nothing new.

"Sorry, Brian. Bad day at work."

"That's no reason to take it out on my ceiling and my kid's nap. You and your old lady just work out your bad days some other way."

"My old lady's been gone a while now, Brian. Thanks for the painful reminder."

"Yeah, you and your new girlfriend have been doing lots of damn painful grieving the past 30 minutes. Enough's enough. Quit pounding on each other."

"I don't have a new girlfriend, Brian."

"Whatever. You and her and her pals been making can stop your thumping and screeching. No one cares about your honeymoon plans and money problems anyway, so stop yelling for all the building to hear."

I take a moment and, still holding the bat tightly in my hand, crack the door open and ask, "What exactly did you hear, Brian?"

This will continue...

Next on Pulp Friday: PF 4
PF 5
PF 6
PF 7
PF 8
PF 9