Limp Face and Haggard

“Nolan…” Limp Face shouted, murdering the silence in the room with a stabbing knife.

“Christopher Fucking Nolan” He barked again and with unexplainable anger he shoved a glass full of Rum at his own face. He didn’t intend that and it must have hurt but he acted as though the contrary was true. A gleam of mortification lustred in his eyes as he looked towards Haggard. As he looked he hoped for Haggard to have missed this overtly awkward incident.

Haggard hadn’t missed. He wasn’t the type who missed things happening around him. Ever the perceptive he was, yet pretended to be indifferent. 

Haggard learned from experiences.  Whenever he had a say to things eventuating around him, he got shut down. Hence he pretended to be imperceptive and this new found quirk seemed to ally well with his physical structure too.

“Overhyped piece of shit this Nolan bloke” Limp Face roared once again trying to challenge Haggard’s indifference.

“I do not see a problem sir… I find his movies quite respectable” Haggard replied with unnecessary etiquette. It was his way of talking… in addition he always stuck to a minimal reply and avoided lavish elaboration. Minimal… seemed to be the story of his life…

“Respectable??? Are you fucking kidding me???” Limp Face spat through gridded teeth, “I’ve seen goats take a dump that’s more respectable”. Limp Face was too cynical, that’s how he had always been. He believed his scepticism kept him alive and noticeable; otherwise he might just be an object of pity. Limp Face hated being pitied.

“Pity is for the bastard, the broken and the bereft… I am none… so take your flowery mercy and stick it up someone else’s arse” Limp Face used to say.  Limp Face was an interesting character, a garrulous fellow, always picking the most common social topic to argue upon. He used to end up winning arguments and loosing friends, all departing with a common view…

“Limp Face deserves his fate”

“With due respect, you shouldn’t judge a man by his most recent let-down” Haggard replied against his will.

“Balderdash…” Limp Face replied with flawless apathy. He spat again, this time a viscous glob of saliva remained stuck to the right side of his face. “Scorsese… now that’s a bloody fucking good director”

Haggard didn’t reply, but after a brisk moment of silence he spoke, out of the blue…

“I’ve known you for long, sir… you can take off that hat, and I won’t pity you”

Limp Face slowly and discreetly took his hat off; apparently some of his vocal confidence got removed with the hat as well. He felt ashamed, and spurned.

“You can put it back on if you’re uncomfortable… though I see no reason why you should be, considering the time, event and the company” Haggard said.

“I didn’t call you for counselling, you bastard” Limp Face put his hat back on, “I am the one who was forced to live with it”

“Forced… Hah” Haggard replied.

Limp Face poured a glass of rum for himself, while Haggard got up for a smoke and went to the balcony of Limp Face’s 4-floor bungalow. It was a cold windy night after a long day. The frigid breeze was too much for Haggard to bear as he scuffled back inside the apartment.

“No puffing inside the house” Limp Face ordered.

Haggard abided. After a brusque moment of silence he asked, “You don’t smoke anymore, I am guessing?”

“Nice going Mr Holmes, what made you conclude that?” Limp Face remarked sarcastically.

Haggard rolled his eyes and thought of trying his luck against the breeze, but Limp Face quickly responded, “I figured… We’re already inflicted with life, which is slowly killing us as time passes by… so… why hasten the fucking process”

“Sure… life is killing us… among other things” Haggard replied in a cryptic manner. Limp Face understood.

“I’ve met people who believe in a short convivial life rather than a tedious drag to the noose” Haggard poured himself a drink, “what you referred to as ‘hastening the process’ is actually practised by many”

“Fuck them” Limp Face chucked in a heavy serving of rum, “when I am on my deathbed, the only fucking thing that’ll make me happy is that I have lived bloody hard and enjoyed more sunsets than those filthy scums who die in their own blood, shit and puke every fucking night”

A blob of saliva flew across the room, traversing dangerously close to Haggard’s drink, finally settling down on the carpet…

Haggard took a small yet pretentious sip on his drink and with a devious smirk on his face he replied, “The funny thing about Deathbeds sir, is when you are on them… death appears more prominent and concluding… whereas as life appears less as a journey and more… as an instant”

Surprisingly Limp Face didn’t twitch to that comment. He would normally accept such replies as condescending and provoking. Yet, it seemed that ship had sailed… among other ships…

“Hogwash” he simply remarked.

“Why did you choose me?” Haggard asked. This question had been swirling in his mind since the moment he received the call from Limp Face this morning.

The news was delivered, the agreements were made, a fax was sent and the meeting was set. No more, no less… The most laconic and concise discourse of them all…

“Hah, you clever bastard… apparently you know why you’re here… but then I was pretty obvious, wasn’t I?” Limp Face replied, “Can I be blunt? And don’t you fucking judge me, you bastard”.

“By no means or manner do I have the right to judge you… I only wish to curb my curiosity” Haggard replied.

“Well, here’s the thing” Limp Face dragged himself closer to Haggard, “You see there are people out there who want my money, my empire, and this bungalow… but listen… I want you to…” Limp Face stammered a little, for the first time that night, maybe for the first time in his life, “…burn it down… every fucking part of it… incinerate it till there’s nothing left but ashes and dust”

 “And you?” Haggard looked towards Limp Face.

“Me?” Limp Face replied, “I’ll be right here, like always, reading my books and sipping on my rum” A single drop of tear appeared below his right eye.

Stares were transferred. The real deal was finally set on the table.

 “And you think I can do this?” Haggard said in a callous tone... Always the epitome of pretension…

“I know you can” Limp Face replied, “You’re cold and heartless, but most importantly… you’re the only one I know who has the fucking balls to go through with this”

“Hmm” Haggard murmured, took out two smokes and offered one to Limp Face. Smoke aggregated within the bungalow after decades, maybe a hint of things to come… among other things…

“I do not hold a position to judge your character, neither is our friendship that sentimental to prevent such an episode from occurring” Haggard took a long drag on his cigarette, “I shall abide sir”

“Good” Limp Face said with a grateful tone, “It’s too fucking late already, I have made the arrangements… no one should cherish my passing, nor should anyone mourn…” Limp Face pointed towards a bundle of flares.

“So be it. I’ll get to it” Haggard got up, grabbed the flares and proceeded to leave. Then suddenly he stopped in his footsteps and turned around to ask…

“Forgive me, for I am nothing but curious when I ask this” Haggard hesitated a little, “What is it you are thinking about right now?” Haggard continued, “As I believe you are not the type whose whole life would revolve around him at this moment… as I mentioned… I am just curious to know”

“Hah…” Limp Face replied, “You’re one funny lad, you bastard” Limp Face coughed on his smoke spraying blood all across his coffee table. It was evident Limp Face had problems but Haggard didn’t care… he had his own share of problems…

“I have lived hard and long, bastard… so here on this chair I’ll be sipping on my rum… and counting my sunsets… as I said before” Limp Face replied with shivering confidence.

Haggard nodded and walked out the bungalow, standing at the spot Limp Face had instructed him to. He had a good view of Limp Face’s window from there. 

Haggard took out a flare and that very instant Limp Face appeared at the window.

Haggard saw the look on his face and understood very much about Limp Face that moment than ever before. Limp Face lied when he said he’ll be sitting on his chair, sipping on rum and counting the numerous sunsets he had witnessed during his long hard life.

Haggard knew the true and ominous feeling of death, and now Limp Face knew it too…

Instant… that’s what life is… a quick and abrupt bubble of time engulfing you right there and then… popping swiftly while transferring you into another bubble… and death… is when the bubbles run out…

Limp Face showed the thumbs up with mournful expressions. Haggard abided, like always, ever the cold and heartless bastard.

Few hours later, Haggard found himself trapped in an environment of smoke, ash and dust. Nothing had left of Limp Face’s enormous bungalow, not even Limp Face himself.

32 Years of friendship conflagrated and cremated at the blink of an eye… Limp Face might have shed a few tears but Haggard remained as stoic as ever, the wrinkles on his pale cheeks hadn’t felt a tear drop permeating though them in decades.

“A sad conclusion to a sad life… none will revel on your death… none will lament” Haggard thought. He almost hoped for a similar fate for himself. Alas, he had no friends who would do the same for him as he did for Limp Face.

Now it had started to rain, Haggard shaded himself under an umbrella and read the fax again one last time…

…The limp… it was a symptom of the tumour…

…malignant skull base neoplasm… one month tops...

…they are taking me to the clinic tomorrow…

…they’ll turn me into an object of pity…

…but you can do something about it… only you…

…more details when you arrive…