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Marvin, part 3 (445 hits)

Category: General
Labels: Marvin

Rating: 1.75 on 12 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Labels:

Submitted by Caulfield (View user info) at 2008-04-04 22:54:31 EDT



Part 1: http://www.ubersite.com/m/115848
Part 2: http://www.ubersite.com/m/115906


-----------------------------------------------



They returned from the driving range at 4. Teddy had done well. Marvin, not so well. Usually his play didn't get to him. Marvin's skills, after all, were devoted to higher pursuits. But for some reason, it bothered him that day. He had said nothing on the way home. He even shut his car door without making sure it was locked.

While Teddy napped, Marvin labored over his toothpicks. The trouble was, the harder he worked, the more his thoughts drifted to Snitch and the things she had said. Her buoyant off-to-work-we-go attitude was disturbing to him—somehow out of place. After dealing with years of indecision and inactivity he had come to the conclusion that motivation was something precious and finite. How could she not tire of clerical work? How could she go on and on with something so monotonous? She, with her gypsy rings and prosaic mutterings—she was confusing him. She wasn't supposed to do that. She was supposed to help him.

The fact that it was her idea that he go to the driving range wasn't lost on him either. Precious time lost time to her whims...

Teddy woke a little after 5. He kept his promise to keep quiet while his brother worked, but watching Marvin's methodical progress as he shuffled back and forth around the table was the dullest of entertainments. In the last hour Marvin couldn't have taken more than a dozen shots. Each seemed to require more precision than was necessary, and none seemed to please him. Looking agitated, Marvin would bend down at odd intervals lowering his head below the table top. Then he would slowly rise up, as if he wanted to see the whole thing anew. Unfortunately this resulted in even fewer shots and it became apparent to Teddy that his brother was losing his spirit.

"Are we eating?"

Marvin looked at his watch and rubbed his neck. "You had a sandwich twenty minutes ago."

"That was a snack. I want dinner."

"Make another sandwich."

"All work and no play makes..."

"Shhh." Marvin strolled around the table moving counter-clockwise, then clockwise., then counter clockwise. He grabbed the bulb and squeezed off a shot. His face soured.

"Ok, what do you want?"

"We can eat, then?"

"Don't be obnoxious. I assume you want to go out. Tell me what do you want?" Marvin always put the decision on Teddy. Tourists liked a martyr. They always got good press.

Eventually Teddy settled on Bickford's because he wanted pancakes. Both ended up ordering hash and eggs,

They arrived home after 6, just in time to see a moss-green Astrovan pulling into the driveway. It's driver, a smart-looking 43 year old, was dressed a la Bohème, with a stripped t-shirt, beige shorts, and dark brown sandals. The sandals flapped noiselessly as they drew up with the Marvin; Teddy was already on his way in the house to gather his backpack, comics, and whatever shirts of Marvin's he planned on borrowing for the rest of his life.

"Hey, Mom," Marvin said, walking around and closing the passenger door, which Teddy had thoughtlessly left open.

"Were you two just getting back from dinner?"

"Yes."

She nodded her head and rolled her shoulders back, taking a short nervous breath. "Did you talk with him. Did you tell him."

"Tell him...?"

"Well, did you tell him that you wouldn't take him in next time? That he had to stop smoking...."

"No. He'd just come anyway. He is his mother's child."

She ignored this. It was an old argument and so overused it was practically paired with their greetings.

She tried a different tact. "What have you two been doing..."

"He hasn't been gone that long," Marvin said, interrupting. "I mean, only a day, that must be a record. Do you need to accompany you to a funeral or something?"

She just stared at him.

Marvin sighed. "I have been working, or at least trying to. Teddy is very disruptive. He keeps saying stupid things and watching TV."

"Are you still doing those paintings of ordinary things? like combs and empty CD cases?

Marvin looked up at the façade of the building, wishing Teddy would move faster.

"Your stepfather wanted to give you a whole pile of things," she said, unfolding her arms and letting her purse sway off a blotchy wrist. "I should have brought them. He has a bag of fishing lures and plumbing parts. And there's a tin full of Teddy's broken matchbox cars—the one's he hit with grandpa's old hammer. We thought those were very artistic, that you'd really like them."

"I would. That would be great, Mom." Years ago, he had gone through a phase where he only called her mother. But after a week of ignoring him, Marvin gave up and resumed using the less-formal parental noun. Internally he had compromised with himself by explicitly thinking "mother" when he would say, "mom." It was marginally effective.

She took out a tissue and blew her nose emotionlessly.

Finally, after many hour-long minutes, Teddy erupted from the front door, leaping down the three-step concrete staircase that Marvin often sat on when troubled by creative ennui. Marvin thought it an irreverent display considering how holy those steps were, but was so grateful for his brother's appearance that he decided instantly that it wasn't worth the argument. Teddy didn't look at either of them as he passed and threw his swollen backpack threw the side door before walking around and settling himself in the passenger seat.

"It was great seeing you, Mom." Marvin hesitated, then hugged his mother lightly, ass out, as if the chest upon which he had suckled so many years ago were as sacred as those steps.

She returned the hug more fervently, drew him close and pecked him on the cheek. "Thank you for taking care of him, Marvin."

"Yes, well..."

"And I'll be sure to bring over those knickknacks and doodads."

He nodded briskly, then added another toward the van, which was returned with a salute. Fighting a desire to huff, he waited until they pulled away, then let it out.

"Thank. God."

He turned and sat on the middle step. It could have been nearing sunset for all he knew: the sun had dipped below the tops of the apartment buildings and was no more a thought for anyone. He didn't feel like returning to his work having had his senses so upset by the commotion. He needed to be calm and focused. He was sure of this. His thoughts turned to Snitch and he wondered if he could call her. After that last conversation, he was afraid he would catch her doing something revolting—or someone revolting—and grimaced at the thought.

It was getting darker now and as Marvin struggled for some calming notion, the truck-tourist passed. Instantly Marvin knew he had to chase after him.

The truck bounced over the pockmarked road, back lights firing irregularly like cigarette ends in the growing blackness. Marvin caught up a little and crossed behind a couple parked cars, hiding behind bumpers when he felt exposed. By the time he reached the tourist at a stop light, it switched to green and momentum started carrying it down the street again, where it turned sharply on Mills Rd.

Marvin bristled at the tourist's inattention to his right blinker and hurried down the road at a trot. Turning the corner he stopped suddenly and threw himself behind a battered trash can. The tourist was already out of the truck and was looking around, perhaps for Marvin. He ducked low. Marvin didn't think he had seen him, so he chanced a look. The tourist was barely a silhouette now and Marvin could just make out his form. He watched as the tourist reached in car and grabbed two, no four plastic bags; then watched as he walked through the door. Marvin heard him shout "Dad's home." He heard children's voices.

Sighing, Marvin stood and returned to his apartment. He was in a horrible mood.











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User Reviews


Submitted by haikumikoo (user info) at 2008-04-25 12:26:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

haha @ Hurty (thanks)

Submitted by HurtByTheSun (user info) at 2008-04-25 12:10:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

Don't worry Haiku, I'll help! (I'm also sending you music this weekend, for serious).

Submitted by haikumikoo (user info) at 2008-04-25 11:50:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

I was going to break your streak due to the reappearance of "minor mistakes" (they were actually distracting this time, perhaps because I've read 1-3 in a row), but I enjoyed the ending so I'm thinking that I won't.

No promises, now.

Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2008-04-06 20:10:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by HotWillie (user info) at 2008-04-06 19:59:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by DreamWeaver (user info) at 2008-04-06 16:22:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-04-06 16:07:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

I am glad, I am only sorry I can't comment any more. It is a sad thing that Uber appears to have missed this set, like I say, I am looking forward to the next installment. Their loss, my treat. :)

Submitted by rorrim (user info) at 2008-04-06 15:05:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

filename


Submitted by Caulfield (user info) at 2008-04-06 14:22:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

It's OK, orphelia. I'm happy with the few reviews I've gotten, especially yours.

Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-04-06 03:18:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

I have read all three parts twice now, I really am enjoying them. And looking forward to a next part.
Marvin is odd, but somehow a little likeable, I want to know if he completes his 'work'.
I have no critisim to offer, I think so far the parts have been well written and have a lovely flow.
I don't often try to comment on fiction posts, I am no good myself so what do I know? I just feel this series deserves so much more attention and I hope you are not put off.

Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2008-04-05 18:31:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

98 readers and only one rater. Uber is full of gutless FUCKS!!

Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-04-05 12:33:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

This should have beem rated already


Well let's call them, uh, Mr. X and Mrs. Y. So anyway, Mr. X would
say, `Marge, if this doesn't get your motor running, my name isn't
Homer J. Simpson.'

-- Homer Simpson
Secrets of a Successful Marriage