The Beast, Pt. 58 (Chapter 17d)

Papa Chub frowns. “I am not mopey.”

“That’s exactly the kind of thing someone who was mopey would say.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I don’t know, man,” Monk says. “’From the mouths of babes’ and all that.

“That’s not really what that expression means,” I say.

“What, you’re saying she wasn’t a babe?”

“Okay, that’s really not what that expression means.”

“I’m not mopey.”

“You’re inside your own head,” Erb interjects. “At some point, you started thinking about the experience instead of enjoying it, and then it all went downhill. It’s not that the experience was worthless. It’s that you wouldn’t let yourself enjoy it.”

“Hey, if nothing else, it’s one more notch in the belt, right?” Googe ads. Papa Chub stares at him, frowns distastefully.

“I think what Googe means is, any experience has value in and of itself. You’re necessarily a richer, more well-rounded person for anything you do. Sure, maybe it wasn’t the best sex of your life, maybe it wasn’t something out of a porno, but it’s yours. No one can take that away from you.” Papa Chub leans back on the couch, his arms crossed, his eyes affixed on the ceiling. I can tell that he’s thinking over my words, considering them, trying to decide if he can believe them or not. A small smile comes to his face, and he’s just on the verge of opening his mouth to share his new world view with us when I add, “And you can’t unexperience it, so you might as well find a way to make peace with things.”

He rolls his eyes. Erb reaches over and punches me in the shoulder. “Mr. Sympathy here.”

I shrug. “Sympathy’s not productive. Listening, accepting, encouraging, and overcoming is. Improvise, adapt, and overcome, right, Monk?”

Monk’s eyes light up, the origins of the phrase registering with him. “Yeah. Yeah!”

I nod. “Let’s relax, regroup, and go stir up some trouble. Hit up a club or something.”

Googe shakes his head. “Oh, God. I don’t know if I’m up for another night like that.”

“It won’t be. We’ll keep things tame. Find something smaller, more intimate. A place where we can be our usual charming selves, instead of our unusual loathsome selves.”

Papa Chub nods. “I could get into that. I feel like I want to move, you know? Get up and go somewhere. People watch. Meet new people. Yeah, that sounds good.”

I grin and stand up. The discussion is over. Now is the time for action. “Perfect. Now, get your nasty sweaty sex ass off our couch and into the shower.”

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