“You’re never gonna forget this, Mad! I can’t believe you’ve never seen Filthy Reginald before!”
I made note of his enthusiastic delivery. Filthy Reginald was clearly not a man you meet, but rather a sight that you behold. What wonders await me…
As we turned the corner around the Post Office, already on it’s way rolling towards us was an empty liquor bottle, whose label was less legible as its speed increased. Davey hopped forward and hurled the bottle with his foot towards the wall, sending shards of glass sailing in my direction.
“Filthy Reginald? You back here, man? Sober enough to be awake, ready to make a new friend?”
Strewn open on the ground behind a heap of garbage cans and tarps and blankets was a black hand. I couldn’t tell if the color was due to race or the cause of the nickname for which Reginald was infamous: Filthy. Around the lifeless limb were more bottles, square and ovular, which despite their sideways placement didn’t roll. Davey picked up another bottle and slammed it down on the ground next to the hand. I took a step backwards. “You alive, buddy?”
Despite his words, Davey didn’t seem the least bit concerned.
Looking back at me, just above a whisper, “I bet this bastard’s seen his last,” as he pulled the hand toward him. “Still warm.” Checking his pulse, he gleams over his words, “Whaddayaknow? He ain’t checked out after all!”
I didn’t know whether to watch or walk away.
Enthusiastically reaching into the reeking pile, Davey begin rocking his arms back and fourth on the mass, leaning all his weight on it as he called, “Filthy Reginald, get up man, you got friends visiting!”
“Whurriiisissgh!,” a surprised muffle moaned beneath the heap. The hand twitched as though moving for the first time. Davey began tossing stiff blankets and tarps aside, kicking garbage cans out of the way, and lifted a stubborn head, pointing the face in my direction. “Say hello to Mad, Filthy Reginald!”
The face of death staggered with dull consciousness, glassy eyes slowly opening. Scanning up my body, meeting mine, suddenly the face burst alive. A toothless grin shined brighter than any other before, amidst patches of facial pubes, and I was welcomed by a heartwarming hello of, “Hey there fella, I’m Ridgenull…and since you ain’t one-a them, you must be here to help!”
The hands holding the head were gyrating with increased rapidity, and looking to Davey, he shook softly with silent laughter, seemingly unphased by the putrid mass he was supporting.
“You know what they’re up to now, man? It ain’t time yet, issit? I think we got time to get to know each other, so we can all be friends. You, me, and Davey here got a job to do. And we gotta wait till the time is’right.”
Davey’s cackle then became piercingly audible.
"They sold you hippies grunge, hip hop, now liberty activism."