The Lesser Blessed Read Free Page B

mom’ll be home at five.”
    “Suit yourself.”
    “Yeah. You can come over later if you want. Bring food—or call me. Ask for the Big Kahoona.”
    “You bet!” I called out. “I’ll do that. Sol later.” “Sol later” is Raven Talk. It’s “See you later” said really fast. The correct response is “Sol” but Johnny didn’t say it. All he did was shake his head and go, “Little Vietnam. Not bad, not bad.”
    I went into the house to grab more garbage bags.
Bannock and Dishes
    The sticker by the apartment 13 slot said “A. Beck,” and seeing how Johnny’s last name was Beck, I rang it. I had some hot bannock wrapped in a plastic bag stuffed in my jacket. The intercom crackled and I called out, “Johnny, this is Larry, I’m—”
    “Hello?” Johnny asked. “Hello, am I on the air? Can I make a request? Just wait, someone else wants to make a request... oh, piss on it—this thing is broken. Just come up.” The buzzer went off and I opened the door.
    Spruce Manor, I thought, what a place to die. There was the smell of wet rugs, muktuk and dry meat in the air. I breathed through my mouth and covered my nose. People had punchedholes in the wall all the way up the stairs. Johnny was standing out in the hallway with the door open. From his apartment I could hear AC/DC. It was either “Back in Black” or “Highway to Hell.” I didn’t really know them. AC/DC was great to dance to but I never bought any of their tapes. Johnny had his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows; his hair was kind of messy. He had on bleached white socks with a hole in one of them. As I got closer, I noticed he had soap suds on his hands.
    “
Edanat’e?
” I said.
    “Which?”
    “That means, How are you?”
    “Oh ... good. Come on in. I’m just cleaning up the joint. It’s Larry, right?”
    “Yup,” I said, “and you’re the Big Kahoona.”
    “Yeah.” He looked nervous.
    I walked into the apartment and took off my jacket. I carefully hung it up, away from the dirty floor.
    “What’s this?” Johnny asked as I handed him the hot package.
    “Don’t panic,” I answered. “I made bannock.”
    “Oh yeah?” Johnny smiled. “That’s cool, man. That’s really cool. Come in.”
    We walked through the kitchen. Johnny had done a motherload of dishes. They were stacked right up and there were still more to do. Ashtrays on the kitchen table were overflowing. There were about three different sets of cards, all of which looked overused. There was a crib board there too, but I didn’t know how to play. Isat on the love seat in the living room and Johnny turned down the volume. The apartment was barren. I mean, there was nothing on the walls except for a Canadian flag that reached from one end of the room to the other, covering the windows completely. There was a TV, but it was piled on some old milk crates. I noticed the linoleum was peppered with burns where people had dropped their cigarettes and matches. The holes looked like charred, blurred eyes staring up at the ceiling.
    I remembered the flag from school had been stolen recently and eyed this one more carefully.
    “You like country?” he asked.
    “Sure.”
    “Hey, is it true there’s a song called ‘Take Your Tongue Outta My Mouth, I’m Trying to Kiss You Good-bye?’ ”
    “What!”
    “Jokes! You like AC/DC?”
    I wrinkled my nose. “Iron Maiden rules.”
    “Oh yeah, ‘Run to the Hills,’ hey? Did you butter this already?”
    “Yeah. Do you have any raspberry jam?”
    “Naw, we’re strapped until my mom gets some cash. Things are pretty horror-show right now.”
    “What?” I said, eyeing him. “Ain’t nothing sadder than bannock without raspberry jam—that’s just about as sad as a one-bark dog!” (Jed taught me that one.) “Well, how about lard? You got any lard?”
    “Nope.”
    “You know what they say? Bannock and lard make you hard!”
    “Cute,” he smirked.
    From the hallway, a little boy peeked around the corner. He had big