My Foray into Noir Fiction. Part Three.

I sat down. Glanced around. The outside of the cafe was mostly empty, except for a couple of men in black suits and black hats tinkering with some odd black box a few tables away and an ostrich pecking at a bush. Good, no suspicious characters in the vicinity. Now I just had to wait for him to arrive. He came sooner than I expected.

It was four hours later. I remembered. I had been counting the number of seconds on my watch. 14267. Or was it 14532? The sound of approaching footsteps had torn me away from my little world of amusement. I looked up and there he was.

If I had to use one word to describe Timmy, it would be decent. He always stood up straight and tall, a respectable 1.53m. Never saw a hair out of place. His shirt was ironed as smooth as smooth gets, and so were his pants. His mom's work no doubt. I envied those symmetrical double knotted shoelaces, he'd never have to stoop over for a re-tie. Today, he was looking sad.

"Hey Tim, looking sad today."

"That's because I am" he replied gruffly.

I asked him why.

"Because I'm alive" he said.

I contemplated that nugget of wisdom. It was bitter. Obviously, things had taken a downturn for poor Timmy. Some screwed up stuff. But that was the way things were around here. Heck, this whole world was screwed up. Life is tragic. You win some, you lose some more. But Timmy was a tough guy. Behind the starched fabric was a hard, roughened spirit. He would get through this.

"Pull yourself together, Tim. No reason to spit at life just because it spat on you." Logic had not been a priority when I had said that and I regretted it.

"You don't understand Matt. I should've died out there. I shouldn't even be here."

"Shit man, what happened?"

"I.. I don't know man. I did exactly as they said. Aim for point between the bridge tower and smoke stacks! Eyes no close! There I was, heading straight for the point! Glory for the Emperor! I will not die in vain! HISSATSU! Then boom! Something hit my tail and i couldn't get back on course damn it! I just couldn't! The rudder was gone! I spun to the right and crashed into the sea and everything went black."

He broke down and started bawling, muttering some crap about "bushido honour" and his unbearable shame. Did I mention Timmy had mutiple personality disorder?

I looked down at the twitching, crumpled heap beside my chair. The ostrich was still here, pecking at a coffee cup on the ground. If there was one word that could describe Timmy, it was bat-fuck-insane.