How to Beat the Heat

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard a knock at the door. My guest nodded, as if to say, It's okay. I can wait.

I looked through the periscope I had affixed to the wall at the top of the stairs. Through it, I could see anybody who happened to be at the door at ground level without ever taking one step in the direction of the front door.

When I saw who it was, I knew I couldn't answer the door, not with the guest I had at that moment. I glanced behind me.

"Who is it?" my guest asked.

I shook my head. "Oh, it's just a...it's a hobo! They're always coming around asking for, you know, food and hammers and Preparation-H and whatnot. And cheese sandwiches sometimes."

"Well, I don't mind if you answer the door," my guest said. "As good Democrats we should never pass up the opportunity to lend some help and offer a hand out. Give the fellow a twenty and I'll have my accountant cut you a check when I get back to Charleston."

"No way!" I practically screamed, then clapped a hand over my mouth. Red-faced, I said, "I mean, heck. He's probably gone by now."

Just then, a bellowing started underneath the window I was standing near. "Goddamn it—I know you're up there, Kristy Krust, so open this door!"

My guest raised one eyebrow, and I shrugged. "Sometimes these...these hobos get really insistent. This one's been here before."

"If you don't come down here and let me in by the time I count to absolute zero, I'm gonna absolutely kick the living shit out of you, woman!" the "hobo" shouted.

"It sounds to me like you have an irate gentlemen caller," my guest said.

"I'll get rid of him," I said, feeling my face grow hot again due to my embarrassment. "Excuse me one moment."

I ran down the stairs and opened the door. "Jim, you've got to get out of—"

That's as far as I got before I started howling with laughter at the sight before me: there was Citizen Jim dressed in what appeared to be three layers of clothes, a black and red checked wool coat, plus heavy hiking boots, big orange mittens, and a black ski mask.

"What? What is it?" he asked, throwing up his arms.

I couldn't stop laughing long enough to ask him why he was dressed for Arctic weather in August.

He groaned, pulling the ski mask off his head; his hair stood on end.

"It's hot out here! I need something cold to drink!" he said, right before he pushed past me and ran up to my apartment.

Then I heard him scream like a woman! He came back down the steps faster than he'd gone up them!

"What the hell's he doing up there?" Citizen Jim asked, referring to my guest.

I shrugged. "He just stopped by, said he wanted to talk to me about a few things and maybe watch a movie."

"Yeah. Right!"

"Why are you dressed like an Eskimo?" I asked Jim.

"Ah hell! You know how fucking hot it is down in Alabama right now, but I figured I could beat the heat up here in these godforsaken hills. Nobody told me it'd be 85 degrees here, too! And that's a nice hello to someone who's coming to see you! But I guess I don't count anymore since my last name doesn't start with a rock and end with a fella! Traitor!"

"Oh, precious lamb!" I said. "Please don't be like that!"

"Be like what? What's he doing here? I bet you haven't even asked him!"

I punched Jim in the arm (not that he felt it through all that winter gear) and said, "No, and you better not either!"

"Oh, I am, Missy! You just watch me!"

I managed to wrestle Jim down onto the sidewalk and hold him for a split second, but he threw me off and ran up the stairs. I heard the door slam, and then made out the sound of the security chain being dragged into place.

After that, all I could do was hang my head and cry into space, imagining what was going on upstairs. When Jim had heard that I briefly met Senator Jay Rockefeller at a public engagement, he got very excited and started pumping me for information. But Jim soon got agitated and blew his top when he found out that I hadn't asked the senator about "you know damned well what".

"What the hell! You had him right there, and all you asked him about were those stupid senate investigations into the war and blah blah blah? Goddamn you!" Jim had said, and hung up on me.

And now...now I knew that my life was ruined. Because Jim was probably upstairs with Senator Rockefeller grilling him about the Trilateral Commission and the Bilderberger Conferences. It didn't mean anything to Jim that I'd had a mad crush on Senator Rockefeller when I was a little girl and he was the governor of West Virginia; nor did he care that the senator was, besides Robert Byrd, one of the only honest men in the senate.

No, all Jim cared about was finding out about all the half-baked, crackpot conspiracy bullshit that he'd been filling his head with ever since Reagan was supposedly shot at the behest of Vice President Bush back in 1980.

The Illuminati! The Freemasons! The Rosicrucians! The Gnostics! Stonehenge, Los Alamos and Area goddamn 51! I'd had enough of it all!

Just as I was wondering how the hell I'd ever got myself mixed up with such a half-witted, pea-brained, good for little else but—

"Hey, Stimpy! Get up here! You're gonna miss the previews!" Citizen Jim yelled down at me.

"You've ruined my life!" I moaned. "Leave me alone! PLEASE!"

"All right! Have it your way," Jim called to me. "But you're passing up a chance to sit on your own couch with a United States Senator and watch Psychomania!"

My head snapped up at the mention of Psychomania.

Psychomania - DVD

"I know that's one of your favorites cuz you love that stuff about the living dead on their motorcycles and that old lady getting turned into a frog at the end!" Jim said. "Now, goddamn it, I unlocked the door, so come on up here and let me look at you!"

I took the stairs three at a time and burst through the door smiling.

"Can you believe how goddamn tall this guy is?" Citizen Jim asked me, pointing to the senator, who blushed.

Then Citizen Jim and Senator Jay went back to swapping their favorite bits of dialogue from Chasers, starring Erika Eleniak, and telling ridiculous fishing stories.

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