Jimmy and Bobby

It was Sunday and it was morning. The sun hit the grass beautifully and created this somewhat vehement sensation. The birds chirped impishly as they mocked all the nearby audiences. The only audience happened to be Jimmy. He stared that view from the kitchen’s window. His headache was too much for him. He slurped his first cup of coffee, but it didn’t help to fix his problem. His scrawny figure emphasized his agitation as his headache took over almost his humanity for good. Jimmy grabbed his phone and sought some back up.

"Hello? Bobby? It's Jimmy." His voice trembled. "He's dead. He's really… really dead."

"What do you mean?"

"Jesus, I want to throw up." He took a tiny glimpse to the living room.

"Whoa, whoa! Calm down. What happen?"

"I don’t know. He didn’t move." Jimmy rubbed the temple of his head a couple of times.

"Relax. Okay? That's what always happens. That's what he does."

"Do you know he's dead?"

"No! Of course, I don’t know."

"Then, why is he dead?"

"I don’t know."

"But, he's fine this morning."

"Why are so upset?"

"You're not upset?"

"Why should I be upset? You want me to fucking cry? I am practically his slave after all this time. I always clean up after him. He's animal."

"Jesus! What am I going to do? I can't do this, Bobby. I can't do this!"

"Just dig a hole in the backyard."

"No! The backyard won't do!"

"So, do you want me to throw him over the bridge?"

"Can we do that?"

"Relax Jimmy! Just dig the hole! We don’t have whole day. We don't need ceremony for his… goddamn departure."

"But, he's dead."

"Yeah! I've heard that! Jesus, Jimmy! I wish you didn’t care so much about that little dude."

"Just come here! Okay? I need your help."

"Why would I come? To help you to dig the hole?"

"This is your fault, Bobby! I called you last night."

"Hey! You're the one who should give him the food."

"I gave him the food! He didn’t eat it."

"It was his fault, then."

"How come you be so heartless like this?"

"I told you. I didn’t care about him. Well, at least not like you did."

"It must be the rope in his neck. We tied him too tight."

"But I took it off from him last night."

"You took it off?"

"Yeah. I put him in the cage. But he got out."

"Jesus! You promised we wouldn’t do that. No wonder he's dead."

"How am I supposed to do that? Otherwise, he'll be gone and you'll be more upset."

"Well, now he's gone."

"Well, I am sorry he's dead."

"No. You're not sorry."

"Yeah, you're right. I am not!"

"Now, what are we going to tell the boss?"

"I don’t think he need to know, right?"

"What are you thinking, Bobby? Of course, he must know!"

"He won't care, Jimmy."

"I swear God, Bobby. I swear God. If you…"

"Alright, alright. Relax. I'll tell him what happen. Just dig the hole and I'll take care the rest."

"We don’t have shovel in this fucking house!"

"Well, use your goddamn hand!"

"What? Are you nuts?

"Well, take it easy, okay? I am just joking." Bobby laughed from the other line. He laughed so loud and it started to frustrate Jimmy even more. "I'll get you the fucking shovel."

"Just get here, okay?"

"Give me two hours."

"Two hours?! Jesus Bobby. I am going to blow your head." Bobby laughed again from the other line. His laugh filled with satisfaction and evil joy.

"Alright, alright. 30 minutes, then."

"Hurry, Bobby!"

"Well, I have to get the shovel."

"Just get here." He paused. "Quick!"

Jimmy ended the phone. He slurped his coffee and seeped his view once and for all. He laid his eyes once again to the living room just to make sure. Jimmy’s eyes were red and tired. He looked like a retired warmonger but without his war and soldiers. He was getting older and older by the count of seconds.

There was a dead guy in the living room. The poor guy's hand was tied behind his back and his head hung emotionless. 

Yeah. He was dead. Jimmy was sure.

***

Jimmy was sitting in the porch with his coffee when Bobby's showed up and parked near the curb. Bobby slammed the door and waved excitedly to Jimmy. 

"I wish I can slap your smug face." Jimmy rushed quickly to Bobby.

"Hey. I am here."

"What took you so long?" Jimmy growled.

"Well, I was in the church. I had to tell Mama I had to leave."

"Where's the shovel?"

"I didn't bring the shovel."

"Yeah. Funny. Ha-ha."

"I didn’t." Bobby’s naiveté started to agitate Jimmy even more.

Jimmy paused himself for a second and took a couple of exaggerated deep breathes. "What do you mean?" Jimmy asked with a forced of calmness in his voice.

"You're overreacted. We don’t need shovel. We'll toss him to the garbage can."

"Bobby! Where’s the shovel, man?"

"Do you have some coffee? Christ Jimmy! Your face is giving me headache. I need coffee."

Bobby waltzed casually into the house and went right away to the kitchen. Jimmy followed him as he continued to bite his fingernails. Bobby took a cup of coffee and went straight away to the living room.

"Christ! He's dead Jimmy!" Bobby cried.

"Yeah. I told you he's dead."

"What did you do?" Bobby's voice went pitchy.

"What do you mean? I've told you he's dead!" Jimmy shrug his shoulder. He was confused.

"I thought…" Bobby paused for moment as he recollected something from his mind. He quickly rushed to the attic and looked around.

"Bobby! What are you doing?" Jimmy followed him and almost fell from those steep stairs. Bobby looked for something. His gaze stopped as he found a hamster playfully rolled in his wheel.

"I thought…" He looked more confuse than ever.

"What?!" Jimmy raised his voice. He had enough of this nonsensical vaudeville. First, Bobby didn’t even bother to care, he didn’t bring the shovel, then he acted like a maniac to justify his initial mindless absence.  

"I thought… Hammy was the one who's dead." Bobby pointed out that that jolly hamster and as if the hamster understood, Hammy stopped from his wheel and stared blankly at Jimmy and Bobby.

"Hammy?"

"The fucking hamster! You said you worried about him last night. He didn’t eat."

"Why would I…?" Jimmy tried to put up and string all his confusion all together. "Oh my God!" He shook his head.

"What did you do to that poor bastard in the living room?"

"I told you! I didn’t do anything."

"Now, what we are going to do?" 

They just stared at each other.

It was Sunday and it was morning. It was supposedly peaceful. But not for Jimmy and Bobby. Oh, oh. Not for them.