Firepower

By Matt Camplomi

 What I need, Gayle, is something that people will recognize me for. I need to get my name out there, Gayle, and it's gotta be something big.  
 
Wait a second.
  
Gayle?
  
Oh shit.  She's at work.  
   

—This, Gayle, I said, this is a new movement, Gayle. Something inherently unprecedented—I mean because of its newness.  
  
Gayle looked at me.  
 
—I mean wholly unheard of, Gayle. I mean, really. I just want you to—
  
Gayle looked at her watch.
  
—Gayle?
  
I mean.  
  
—Peter, I've got to get work. You know? Work?
  
Right.
  
—RRRight. WWWWWork.  
   

I mean, I understand these things. I don't want you to think that I don't. Oh, Christ, how I understand. Some of us have things to do during the day. I get it. Hell, man, I've had things to do during the day. There's been plenty of times when I've had things to do during the day. But I don't get all snotty about it.  
  
I just did the things.
  
I mean, I've sold stuff on EEEEBay. I've been at the flea market on 575 at, like, ten in the morning before. And there was that whole week when I volunteered at the library. That one, the library thing, that was for a whole week, too. That's big deal stuff, man.

That's what people don't get. They think things like that are the little things. But it's shit like that's important. You have to be giving.  
  
It's not good to be selfish. You should want, sure, but you should never want too much.
  
I just— 
  
O jaheanve oun oft yourn coursndt blatanting.
   

But one thing I know for sure, is that I never took any dance lessons.
  
Gayle insists.
  
—You totally did. It was just last October. We were there. It was over on Prince. We totally did that. You don't remember? With the instructor? His name was Henry. He charged us forward, us back.You don't remember that? Christ, Peter.
  
I sometimes wonder who this Christ Peter is, then I remember my scriptures, and I know that Peter was the stone. Er, rock. Er, mason?  
  
Shit.
  
Help?      
  
Was Peter a stone or a rock or a mason?  
  
Man, someone has got to know this; it just isn't going to be me.
  
—Are you listening, Peter?
   
 
Today, however, I am free.
  
I'm going to get my face out there with my free time. It's gonna be something big, something everyone's going to notice. I've just got to figure out how I'm going to actually do it. I was going to ask Gayle, but she was still sore about the night before. We'd had an argument about, well, something. I don't remember.  
  
Aw, she's always sore at me anyways. I can't remember for everything. Besides, I've got a lot on my mind.  
  
One idea I have been kicking around is this: A billboard, right on the loop, before the exit for Milledge. I think that would be great.

That's really something people will remember. 

 I saw in the paper that just now a group of insurgents were no longer insurging. (I think that's what insurgents do.) And I was going to call Gayle at work and tell her but then I remembered what happened that last time I called her at work with something new that I had discovered, and it went something like this:  
  
Gayle: Gayle Mourning speaking.
 
Me (that's me!): I completely understand why we can't move to Canada anymore.
  
Gayle: Peter?
  
Me (me again!): Here's why:
  
Gayle: Peter, we were never considering moving to Canada.
  
Me (Peter): I know, because we can't because we'd have to revoke our citizenships.  
  
Gayle (exasperated): Peter, we could claim dual-citizenship.  
  
Me: Dual-citizenship? Hellfire! I never considered that.
  
Gayle (more exasperated): That still doesn't mean we ever considered moving to Canada.
  
Me: But that's before you came up with this dual-citizenship scheme. This changes everything!
  
Gayle:  Peter, it's not a scheme.
  
Me. Well, whatever. I won't tell if you don't.
  
Gayle: Peter, you're an idiot.
  
Me: But I'm not even drunk yet!
  
It's true. I wasn't.
  
Gayle: Goodbye, Peter. I've got work to do.
   
Well, I tell you, I could've stewed on that one all day, if I had been so inclined. But who am I to be a miserable son of a bitch? I moved on; I researched the possibilities for the rest of the day, but by the time I had come up with any concrete results, I was too drunk to understand what was going on.
   

 I know that Gayle works very hard. She's a lawyer or an accountant or something like that. And she's gone for most of the day, and I don't think she appreciates what I contribute to this relationship. She doesn't realize that I'm working hard, too.  
 
It's not easy, Gayle, coming up with ideas. It takes up a good chunk of my day.  
  
Then I have to walk the dog, and that's always a bitch, and it saps me, and then I don't want to do anything else but I've got to things like calling my friends at work or going out to get something to eat. These are all time-killers, killing my time, Gayle. Sometimes, it's all I can do to get off the couch some days.  
  
Christ, I wish I knew how to get that billboard.
   
  
Maybe I was wrong about Canada. I'm not going to pretend that was my best idea.  
  
I have been wrong before.  
  
Man, I hate it, now that I think about it. That Canada idea really was a waste of my time.  
  
Maybe I should talk to the mayor about my billboard idea . . .
   

Gayle: Peter? What's that smell? Something smells—
  
Peter (shhh, it's me again): Go ahead and sit down, sweetheart, I'll bring you dinner. Did you have a good day?
  
Gayle: What is it?
  
Peter: Well, I had some extra time today, so I went out and bought some stuff at the store, but they didn't have the trout, so I went over to Jason's and he gave me a ride to the fish market—
  
Gayle: There's no fish market in town.
  
Peter: Oh, yeah. We went to Atlanta. I really wanted to get this trout, and I couldn't find it at the store, so, like I was saying, I walked over to Jason's house, and he was totally down for going to Atlanta, and we got the fish and came back. It's—
  
Gayle: You really drove an hour and half to get a fish?
  
Peter: Jason, drove, sweetheart. But it's fresh crushed--
  
Gayle: Peter?

Peter: It's—
  
Gayle (lovingly): You know, sometimes, you're the most amazing person I know.  
  
Peter (petulant): But I haven't even told you what I made.          
  
Gayle: Peter . . .
  
Peter: How was your day, anyway?