Conversation · Acele

"How does that thing work?"

"The mic? I don't exactly know. Somehow it doesn't pick up vibrations from the air. The box said it only picks up structure-borne sound. If you like technobabble."

"Actually, I had some non-mic questions for you."

"You know, Contact Mike doesn't just beat people up. Contact Mike is a role model."

"Um..."

An entire litany spews forth!

"Yes, you heard right. You should try to be more like Contact Mike: a successful athlete and an inspirational figure who has overcome social, physical, and mental obstacles."

"Man, you are one weird cop."

"This isn't about me. This is about your lack of respect for one of boxing's greats -- and for yourself."

"What is it with you and this Mike guy?" She pauses. The question is rhetorical.

"Okay, if it floats your boat I'll be more like Contact Mike and less like me."

"Self respect is not meant to float any boats but your own."

"I'll keep that in mind, for future use." She turns to check her tape recorder.

"Yes, that does indeed float my boat."

"Uh huh, good on you." She turns to check her tape recorder.

"I'd say I'm just about normal. Now about that mic -- Not Mike. Mic."

"You do understand it all just sounds like Mike to me, right?"

"On second thought, screw Contact Mike. He's not a champion -- you are! Look at you here in front of a saggy tent, picking your nose to drug-addict music. The world of sports is in awe of your faith and dedication."

"Sorry, I don't know why I said that. There was something else I wanted to know..."

"Yes?"

"Where did you get the mic from?"

"Same place I got the recorder from. The Paliseum."

"Tell me more about the microphone."

"Sure."

"What's The Paliseum?"

"Oh man, you haven't been to The Paliseum?" She forgets herself for a moment. "It's the coolest place in this whole drug-addled shithole."

"It's a music club and a synthesizer workshop. On Boogie Street, in Jamrock. Musicians live there, like... real musicians. I once saw Arno van Eyck!"

Thinking about it really cheers her up. It's a long way from here, though.

"Sounds like a place for congregating homo-sexuals."

"Yeah, there might be some. I don't think they look down on the homo-sexual underground there. The Paliseum's not that kind of place. It's cool."

"Oh no, you completely misunderstood me. I might be a homo-sexual myself."

"Oh! Well, good for you."

"Now about that Arno guy you mentioned."

"Oh yeah..." She looks you over, assessing your age. "Guess you wouldn't know van Eyck. Or really be a Paliseum-going kind of person... "

Hey, didn't Pissf****t and Fuck the World mention van Eyck, too?

"I get down."

"I... don't know what that means."

"I grind."

"I don't know what that means either."

"Neither do I actually. I have no idea what I'm talking about. Get down? Grind?"

She breathes on her fingers. Looks like she doesn't know what to say.

"You're right. Time has deserted me."

"Sucks, man." She squints her eyes for a second trying to remember something... then lets go of it. "Was there something else? About the contact mic, perhaps?"

"Never mind, let's talk about that contact mic instead..."

"Nor do I, but I have concrete evidence that I rock. In the form of a wrecked tape player and a completely trashed hostel room."

"That's cool." She breathes on her fingers. Looks like she doesn't know what to say.

"It means I'm hip beyond my years."

"On second thought, let's go back to the contact mic."

"Is it like a SKULL thing?"

"A 'SKULL thing'?" She shakes her head. "Man, you sound like a hundred years old when you say that."

No, you don't. She's mistaken you for an old person! Say you're cool.

"Never mind all that. I had questions about that mic..."

"Because I have a problem with homo-sexuals. Major problem."

"What don't you have a problem with?"

"Fuck that! I'm completely problem free, you can't tell me otherwise."

"Mhm..." She breathes on her fingers again to warm them. "Thought so."

"Now, uh... we were talking about my contact mic?" She picks up the device and inspects it, avoiding your eyes.

"Yes, contact mics."

"Contact mics," she repeats, turning the device in her hand.

"Yes, but before we return to the contact mic -- tell me more about this Arno guy you mentioned."