Everybody Knows Everybody Here

8/7/2019 Everybody Knows Everybody Here

1/11

Everybody Knows Everybody Hereby Taylor Vincent

In a modest house on the north end of Wilson, Brandon Cooper swore violently as he juggled

the hot calzone in his hands before eventually dropping the blasted thing on his plate. He waggled his

hands in that particular Ive just melted my fingerprints off manner and shifted to the sink to run

cold water over his fingers. A backward glance revealed the calzone still lying limply on Brandons

plate. Staring back at him.

Mocking him.

Brandon growled and picked up the paper plate, hurling it and its contents into the

wastebasket. The calzone still didnt react, so he shut the lid on the garbage can and sulked back out

into his living room, where his roommates were watching reruns on TV.

A month since we graduated and all you do is sit at home and Brandon peered at the

screen. Watch Night Court?

Markie Post is hot, Guy said.

So hot, Marcus said.

But she has to be like fifty now, Guy continued.

Or sixty.

Id still hit it.

Id build a time machine to hit it back then.

Thats why no one ever kills Hitler or changes history or anything.

Everyone who builds a time machine just goes back in time to seduce Markie Post.

And sees someone else who would have been hot in the 80s, but hotter a few years earlier.


2/11


3/11

Fucker.

Roger Gilmour was notorious for letting his cell phone battery die, so it was no surprise when

a call to him went straight to voice mail. The three roommates thus locked the door and walked the

four or so blocks north to Roger s place, two blocks from Wilson General Hospital. They found him in

the living room, watching the same episode of Night Court, lounging on the sofa. His jeans were

clearly three or more days old, his long hair looked ratty and his t-shirt had two men shaking hands

on the front. One of the men was inexplicably on fire.

Come in here, dear boy, he said as Brandon walked in. However, his expression soured a bit

as the other two entered. Big man, pig man / ha ha, charades you are, he said, eyeing Marcus and

Guy in turn. Brandon expressed their reason for coming before Marcus and Guy could respond, and

the four piled into Roger s Chrysler, Marcus and Guy stuffed in the back while Brandon reclined in

the front. The old car rumbled a bit wearily, but eventually creaked into motion toward Cliffs.

Cliffs was what the kids today call a fast casual restaurant, which meant that the beef was

beef. It wasnt steak, and it wasnt anonymous meat. It sat reclined against a hillside on the western

end of Wilson, between the Piggly Wiggly and Unstable Ricks Car Bargain Emporium. Since Roger

lived on the north end of town, the group had to work south to Main Street before turning west

toward what was too small to be called the commercial district. The five minute or so car ride gave

Brandon time to get even more annoyed.

So. Where were you last night, Brandon? Marcus asked.

Youve been off at Megans house, havent you? Guy asked.

Whys it matter where Ive been? Brandon asked. Whys the spotlight always on me? What

were you doing last night?


4/11

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day/ fritter and waste the hours in an offhand

way, Roger said.

Thinking, Guy said.

Thinking about girls, Marcus said.

Thinking about Megan.

Thinking about Megan twice.

Pay no mind to the rabble / pay no mind to the rabble, Roger said, waving dismissively at

the two.

You two are lucky I dont have any extra shoes up here. Brandon said.

At this point, a Malibu cut off the trio, and their ire focused upon the driver, and the parentage

of the driver, of the Chevy in question.

Cliffs Eaterys relationship with its employees was like that of a domestic abuser. It was raw,

unhealthy, and illegal, and far too many people stayed there for no good reason. The food, on the

other hand, was reasonably tasty and reasonably priced, so people kept coming back for more.

Brandon ordered a Reuben and some soup. Marcus ordered a chili cheese dog with French fries and

Guy a hot dog with chili cheese fries. Marcus and Guy decided that three was the minimum number

needed for a corner booth and claimed the one adjacent to where Jeremy Anderson was sitting.

The Anderson family owed its status to Atticus Anderson, who was not only southern

Wisconsins most successful door-to-door Bible salesman, but who had singlehandedly kicked the

Germans out of Wilson during his 1916-1919 tenure as the citys mayor. Though all of the fortune was

gone and most of the Germans were back, the Andersons were still recognizable within Wilson as one

of the citys oldest families. And it was that recognition that went to Jeremy Andersons head. He


5/11

approached the corner booth occupied by the three roommates, and Roger was the first to see him and

greet him with the hostility he didnt realize he deserved.

I feel one of my turns coming on, he said, glaring up at the military haircut.

Oh? Jeremy asked. Do you feel cold as a razor blade/ tight as a tourniquet/ sharp as a

funeral drum?

Rogers eyes went wide, and he began to shake violently.

With your nerves in tatters / when the cockleshell shatters / and the hammers batter down the

door, you'd better run! Jeremy added, words growing in intensity until Roger shrieked and took his

advice, leaping out of the booth weeping and barreling over an old man two booths down as he fled

out the door of the restaurant. Marcus and Guy turned to him.

Howd you do that? Marcus asked.

Yeah, howd you do that?

Google it, Jeremy replied.

What? Guy asked.

You know, the website where you look for pictures of his mother, Jeremy said, gesturing

toward Marcus.

Yeah, your mom is hot, Guy said.

Yeah, yourwait, what did you say?

Id hit it, Jeremy said.

Like a piata, Guy said.

Whose side are you on?! Marcus wailed. His first two swipes at Guy were laughed off, but

when he slammed his fists down on the table and stood up, the other scrambled out of his seat and

ran off, followed by Marcus in close pursuit.


6/11

Brandon finally looked up from his soup. You broke my roommates, he said.

Jeremy leaned down on the table in front of Brandon.

Oh, come on, Brandon said. First you scare away my friends, now youre going to threaten

me about something. Probably your sister.

I dont like how much time youve been spending with my sister, Jeremy said.

Oh, no! Brandon gasped, holding his hands up in a mock defensive posture, then falling

back into his normal exasperated demeanor. Are you really doing this? I mean, youre actually

wearing a letterman jacket. This couldnt get more clichd.

When Jeremy grabbed at him, however, Brandon got upset. He pushed the other s hands back

and stood up. His back was to the foot-wide support for the booth, and Jeremy was clearly upset,

though Brandon had no idea why.

Yeah, Ive been hanging out with your sister. Hanging out. Its not like you have to defend her

honor or anything.

Whatre you saying, that shes not worth defending?! Jeremy asked. He began stomping

toward Brandon.

What? God, youre dense. Im saying that Im not interested in her. At this point, though, Im

sure nothing I say can dissuade you. Youre already on the warpath

Stay away from my sister! Jeremy howled, and attacked.

The punch didnt really surprise Brandon, and he ducked beneath it. With his right foot, he

kicked off of the partition behind him, landing beside Jeremy on his left foot and bringing his right up

to kick his adversary in the back of the knee. It worked, and Jeremy Anderson buckled and fell

forward, his forehead hitting the partition and his body crumpling to the floor.


7/11

The entire dining room stared at Brandon, who stood there for a moment before looking up at

the restaurant patrons. Hey, you all saw him start it, he said, before sprinting for the door.

Brandon had to reach Megan before news of this did. There was good news and bad news,

however.

The good news was that Marcus and Guy were gone, which eased Brandons travel

considerably.

The bad news was much more numerous. First, Roger had clearly flipped out rather

thoroughly from whatever Jeremy had said to him, as hed left and taken the car. Second, Brandon

knew who most of the people in Cliffs were, and he knew how many of them knew Megan Anderson.

Aaron and Patricia Anderson, her aunt and uncle, were in there, dining with Robert and

Kathleen Hathaway, who ran the Wilson Humane Society Where our Furry Friends Find Fitting

Families! which was only two blocks from Megans house.

At the table next to the Hathaways had been the Buchanans, Ben and Laura, who owned the

castle that dominated the east end of town. Not only was Laura fast friends with Kathleen Hathaway

after adopting almost a bakers dozen cats, the Buchanans daughter Sara was close with Megan

Anderson.

Ben Buchanan played golf with Megans father, Joseph Anderson, as well as Doctor M.

Monroe, who had been eating a salad with his wife, Susan. Hed been the pediatrician for half the kids

in Wilson, and played golf with Megans father. He could easily have her home number.

In short, if the people in the restaurant thought Brandon had just clocked Jeremy Anderson

over his sister, she could know almost immediately. He had to hurry.

Brandon ran across the street and into the display lot of Unstable Ricks Car Bargain

Emporium. Unstable Rick Schlinger was the source of conveyance for most of the youth of Wilson,


8/11

including Brandon before his car had been destroyed in the Great Town Square Pileup of 08. Unstable

Rick came out of the office, almost bolting himself, to meet Brandon.

Unstable Rick was an aging man that looked like Ed Asner with bad teeth and more jowls. He

had the perfect mix of eccentricity and smarminess to come across well in low-budget television

commercials advertising his wares. However, in person and without makeup, he was a bit

intimidating as he came out, wobbly waddling in front of Brandon, who was forced to stop.

Brandon Cooper! Hows your lovely mother Marsha?

F-fine, Brandon replied, a bit bewildered. Id love to chat, but Im in a hurry.

Oh, is that the case? I can get you something speedy. Weve got a Trans Am in stock thatll

really

No! Not shopping today, sir. Just, just passing through, Brandon said, starting to pant. I run

across the street and Im already winded?! he thought to himself. He glanced back into the office to see

Arthur Weber on the phone. Arthur looked out at Brandon and blinked, and Brandon realized that

Andrews sister Erica Weber had been playing with her food and laughing far too loudly back in

Cliffs.

Oh, come on, why do you give a retarded girl a cell phone?!

Brandon bolted as Andrew started to walk outside, dodging past Unstable Rick and

continuing past the row of minivans. Beyond Unstable Ricks was the Wal-Mart and past that, the

highway.

The Wal-Mart was open, but still under reconstruction after local teenager and PETA,

Greenpeace, ACLU, and Everything Else activist Deirdre Skye tried to burn it down. Again. She was

due to get out of therapy soon. Again. The construction meant the parking lot was full of equipment

that Brandon had to navigate before even reaching the gauntlet of maniacs doing 20 in a parking lot.


9/11

Narrowly avoiding an idiot driving a Neon too fast, he noticed that the idiot in question was Chris

Nelson, and remembered that both Chris Nelson and Andrew Weber had been hitting on Megan

Anderson at Liz Franks graduation party. Brandon had been there too, taking cell phone video of

Travis Stiles arguing policy in circles around the mayor himself, Norman Haroldson, who was only

there because he owed a favor to Liz Franks father Jeff. The video of the town mayor being

thoroughly trounced by a high school sophomore had reached 30,000 hits on YouTube.

Chris was on his phone, and he blinked in surprise when he saw Brandon. Whether it was

because of who Brandon was, or just because hed nearly just committed vehicular manslaughter,

Brandon wasnt sure. He simply scampered past the car and moved on.

The highway split Wilson between its large residential district on one end and its commercial

one on the other. The humane society and Megans house were one block off of the highway about a

mile uphill. Brandon rounded the corner and began working his way up the hill. A car passed him,

and he saw that it was Chris Nelson again, speeding quickly toward Megans house. He groaned, until

he saw Chris turn right about two blocks early and drive away.

With a sigh of relief, Brandon continued up the road. He had to make a left just past the train

tracks and then move two blocks farther south to reach Megans. He was scot free until he heard the

horn, and saw the lights on the road ahead start flashing. He actually stopped on the sidewalk and

threw his hands in the air.

A train? There hasnt been a train through Wilson in like twenty years! What fresh hell is

this?

The gates werent dropping across the road yet, but it was still a long way to the tracks

themselves. There was no way for him to beat the rapidly approaching horns to the intersection, and

while reaching Megan before she thought he was a rabid, violent person that wanted in her pants was


10/11

important, it wasnt worth becoming a fine pink goo beneath an oncoming train for. Brandon turned to

walk away just in time to see the Chrysler pull up so fast that one wheel actually skittered up onto the

terrace before stopping.

Brandon stood in awe as a freshly bathed and clean-clothed Roger Gilmour threw open the

passenger side door and held out his hand to Brandon.

Wait, but its only been like six minutes since you ran screaming out of Cliff s. Howd you get

home, shower, put on fresh clothes, and get back here in that time? Brandon asked, a bit confused.

If you ever lose your way, a butterfly will flap its wings / from a million miles away, a little

miracle will come to take you home, Roger said, grinning.

Brandon jumped into the car, and the beast groaned before speeding up and flying across the

train tracks. A few moments later, the gates started to descend, and Brandon sighed in relief. As he put

on his seat belt, something occurred to him.

Wait a minute, he said. That line there. That was Jonathan Coulton, that was a lyric from

Mandelbrot Set.

Roger simply nodded.

And the stuff at Cliffs earlier, that was Pink Floyd.

Roger remained silent.

Dude, Ive known you for like four years. Have you been speaking in song lyrics the whole

time?

Roger dropped Brandon off in front of Megans house, and at the sound of his panting as he

climbed the stairs onto the porch, she came to the door and let him in.

To Brandons horror, she was on the phone.


11/11

He slumped on the couch in the living room, catching his breath and cursing his not being in

shape while she talked.

Mmhmm uh huh really? Okay, then, Ill let him know. Mmhmm! Bye. She sat down at

the end of the couch he was on and looked down at him, and he swallowed hard.

Im assuming your sprinting here has something to do with what just happened at Cliffs?

Brandon groaned and facepalmed before sitting up. Aww, who told?

She arched an eyebrow. You didnt kill Jeremy when you knocked him into the booth. He

didnt even go out cold. He texted me the moment you left.

Brandon sat up, a bit dumbfounded. Oh.

Are you really that nervous about what he thinks of you? Megan asked. Its not like were

dating.

See, thats what I tried to tell him, but he wasnt listening, Brandon said.

I dunno. Hes just a bit overprotective, I guess, and I have been wanting to see more of you.

Brandon blinked. What, do you want us to be dating?

What? Hell no.

Oh, thank God, Brandon said, relieved, slumping back into the couch.

Glad thats over with, she said, hopping off of the armrest to sit beside him. Well, what

now? she asked.

I dunno, Brandon said. I think Night Courts on.

Everybody Knows Everybody Here by Taylor Vincent is licensed under a Creative

Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://tpvincent.wordpress.com/.

Documents

Everybody Knows Everybody Here