© Justin Cumberland 2007

Chapter Seven

Garth stole a car and they veered sideways across an expanding landscape, North-by-North-West; and drove reckless, drove wild, crossing the border to a lullaby as sunshine on the horizon cut crosswise, flooding the heart of the car and igniting the Firebird with speckles of sparkling light.

It was the dawn of another day. It was another frame.

It was a fucking Pontiac! How the fuck had the guy done it, said shit all, and got gas, for fuck’s sake. He was a friend. You didn’t have to worry, Jase:

Suddenly the wheels are in motion; and I – I – I – I – I, am ready to sail any ocean.

He didn’t need the answer. He didn’t want the answer; lulled low by a songbird, head thrown back, bare feet on the dash, as sunshine broke eyes tight-shut into a prismatic spasm of white. He reached for a bowl beside him and packed Garth a cone, the man: lulled dizzy, lulled drowsy, lulled; dreaming, and heading for the wheel with one hand, he grabbed on, and held while Garth smoked, supposed to be steering, not bothering enough to look, not caring, not even wanting to.

They could easily have crashed.

But that never happened, did it?

Landscape stretched wide. He tried to forget about the night but had to ask.

‘You know I woke up last night, man. You had your fucking hands on my boner.’

‘What? Yeah, I know. I woke up. I was dreaming.’

He had slept well. He usually did. But it had taken some time to get to sleep for he had spoken at length, excitedly, until Garth eventually said, ‘Come on, Jase. It’s time to get some sleep.’

They had to get up early. It was a long way. They had to be at the studio by seven and Garth had stayed at Jason’s. He slept beside Jason. He slept in his bed. There was nowhere except for the couch and, Jason had said, ‘I’m not gonna make my best friend sleep on a couch!’

Jase slept soundly, but woke once, sometime in the darkness where Garth, dreaming and asleep, had locked his hands around him and held him, thinking it was a baseball bat, dreaming, and Jason had decided to forget about it, to leave it, because he didn’t want to wake Garth. The guy was tired. He had been gone all weekend; and he was obviously sleeping, himself.

The studio was a long, low, flat building, white, unremarkable except for the sign.

They parked the car in the empty lot. Jason got out, placed his hands on the roof and looked at the wide, flat landscape. He spoke to no one, but said: ‘Colorado!’ and jerked his head back, surprised. It might have been Idaho. He might have been River, saying Rome, as a reprise.

Inside there were forms to sign. He hadn’t reckoned on this and had to ask Garth to help him.

‘I here…by agree that I will ab…ide by the rules as stip…u…la…ted below.’ He looked up at Garth with a frown on his forehead.

‘They’re just the rules, Jase. You know them anyway.’

‘Should I just sign it?’

‘Yeah, just sign it.’

‘What about this one? “I under…stand that on signing this form my gen…it…al…ia becomes the proper…ty of Southern Produc…tions until that…”’ He stopped. ‘Oh, can you read it for me, Garth?’

‘Here. “I understand that on signing this form my genitalia becomes and remains the property of Southern Productions until that time that either: (a) part or the whole of the said genitalia suffers injury or is removed during the course or the competition; (b) I, the undersigned, decide to withdraw from the competition in accordance with the rules as stipulated; or (c) I succeed in advancing beyond the final round without suffering injury.”’

He was tired. ‘C.’

‘What?’

‘Choose C.’

‘Hang on. I haven’t finished yet. “In the event of (a) the said genitalia suffering injury and/or being removed, I, in that event, understand that bodily function (not sexual) will be restored to my person by the Southern Productions Surgical Unit in order to enable the expulsion of bodily waste in accordance with the Code of Conduct (see form 8b). I understand the limitations placed on the surgical unit by the application of Sealant A765Z; and I hereby waive all right to sue Southern Productions for any injury which may have occurred to my person during the course of the competition or the performance of any surgical procedure intended to restore bodily function (not sexual); and, in the event that any part (not limited to the whole of my genitalia) be removed, I waive all claim to the removed parts of my person, understanding that they will be disposed of in accordance with the Policy and Procedures as detailed on the reverse of this form.’

‘You reckon it’s okay?’

‘Yeah. You can’t choose “C” though. It’s not an option.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, but you should understand that by now.’

‘Will I just sign it?’

‘Yeah, just sign all of them. It’s legal shit.’

Jason signed the forms. There were five of them. His hand was shaking.

‘Are you getting nervous, Jase?’

‘Yeah.’ He was worried. ‘You know, Garth. I don’t know if I can handle it. I’m gonna be naked – on television.’

‘You’re not gonna be naked.’

Jason smiled shyly. ‘Pretty much,’ he said.

‘And?’

‘Well, it’s embarrassing.’

‘What have you got to be embarrassed about?’

‘I don’t know. Everyone stares at my…’

‘Don’t worry about it. And just remember what you’re here for, Jase. You’ve got a million dollars at the other end. Have fun; but don’t stuff it up, eh?’

‘How would I stuff it up?’

‘I don’t know.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Just say the worst goes wrong and you lose a nut somehow – or both of them.’

Jason smiled. ‘That’s not gonna happen.’

‘Yeah, I know. It’s all planned out. But just say something goes wrong and someone makes a mistake. An accident. Things don’t work out as planned. Don’t drop out, Jase. You know how stupid that would be.’

‘Stupid?’

‘Yeah. You’ve got it made. If something goes wrong – well, then, it’s not gonna happen again, is it? Just say to yourself: yes, I’ll go on. And then, when Larry comes to ask you, you won’t have to think about it. You’ll just say it. Yes, I’ll go on.’

‘Yes, I’ll go on.’

‘Just keep saying it to yourself and then there’s no way you can stuff it up.’

‘Yes, I’ll go on. Yes, I’ll go on. Yes, I’ll go on.’

‘In your head, Jase.’

‘Oh – yeah. Right. Sorry.’

Garth smiled at him and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s gonna be good, Jase. I can’t wait to see it happen.’