Ode to Pedolo, Manny Furious’s only friend with a sentient head wound….

PEDOLO DID INDEED LIVE IN AN ASSISTED LIVING FACILITY. IT WASN’T A HOSPITAL OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT. IT WAS SIMPLY A SERIES OF DUPLEXES AND A COURTYARD. THE COMPLEX WAS CALLED MADISON ACRES DORMITORIES AND THE GRASS WAS WELL-KEPT AND THE BUILDINGS LOOKED CLEAN. PEDOLO WAS PROBABLY THE YOUNGEST RESIDENT IN THE COMPLEX BY 30 YEARS OR SO.

“HOW DID HE END UP HERE?” I ASKED.

“He’s got a condition.”

“WHAT KIND OF CONDITION?”

BEFORE EL CROW COULD ANSWER, HE KNOCKED ON A DOOR AND PEDOLO ANSWERED. PEDOLO LOOKED THE SAME AS I HAD REMEMBERED, ONLY THINNER, WITHERED. AND I HADN’T YET CAUGHT A WHIFF OF ANY BODY ODOR. HE ALSO HAD BANDAGES WRAPPED AROUND HIS HEAD AND CHIN, AS THOUGH HE HAD SURVIVED SOME SORT OF CATASTROPHIC ACCIDENT OR ATTACK.

HE AND EL CROW EXCHANGED PLEASANTRIES AND THEN HE LOOKED AT ME, SMILED AND HUGGED ME AGGRESSIVELY.

“Manny Furious,” HE SAID, HIS VOICE PITCHED TO THE SAME FREQUENCY AS A CARBON MONOXIDE ALARM, AND AS CLUTTERED WITH AND EASTERN EUROPEAN ACCENT AS ALWAYS—LIKE YOU’D IMAGINE A CHIPMUNK WOULD SOUND DURING A TERRIFYING AYAHUASCA TRIP. “Where have you been brother?”

“I DON’T KNOW,” I MUMBLED. “NOWHERE, REALLY.”

THE INSIDE OF HIS APARTMENT WAS SURPRISINGLY CLEAN.

I SAID, “WOW, THIS APARTMENT IS SURPRISINGLY CLEAN.”

“Public health sends a hazmat crew once a month,” Pedolo said matter-of-factly, without a hint of humor or sarcasm.

PEDOLO’S SET-UP WAS REMARKABLY SIMILAR TO EL CROW’S EXCEPT THE COUCH IN HIS LIVING ROOM SEEMED TO SOMEHOW BE IN BETTER SHAPE.

I WOULD LEARN LATER THAT PEDOLO ONCE, AS A TEENAGER, SAW ON TV A MAN WITH A TATTOO THAT SAID, "PLAYING IT SAFE KILLS YOUR SOUL." THE MAN WAS GOOD LOOKING, WELL-BUILT, ADVENTUROUS. PEDOLO FIGURED THE MAN PROBABLY HAD LITTLE TROUBLE GETTING LAID, SO HE IMMEDIATELY CAME TO IDOLIZE THE MAN. HE TOOK THE MESSAGE OF THE TATTOO TO HEART.

FOR YEARS EL CROW AND LONE WOLF HAD TOLD HIM HE HAD BETTER GET HIS CONDITION CHECKED, BUT INSTEAD HE IGNORED THE DOCTOR UNTIL HIS CONDITION BECAME SO BAD HE HAD TO LIVE WITH A BUNCH OF GERIATRICS, BECAUSE, AS HE SAID, GOING TO SEE THE DOCTOR WOULD BE “Playing it safe,” AND PLAYING IT SAFE, “kills your soul.”

PEDOLO ALSO HAD A COLLECTION OF DVD PORN STACKED 12-FEET TALL IN HIS BEDROOM (ALTHOUGH THE CEILING IN HIS ROOM IS ROUGHLY 8 FEET TALL [DON'T ASK]) MOST OF IT JAPANESE ANIME-STYLE, AND A JUICY, BREATHING SENTIENT HOLE ON TOP OF HIS HEAD THAT BEGAN AS A TINY SCAB ABOUT THE SIZE OF A DIME, WHENCE A CAN OF OLIVES HAD FALLEN ON HIS HEAD WHILE HE WAS LOOKING IN THE PANTRY FOR A SNACK TO EAT WHILE WATCHING SOME HENTAI PORN. BUT HE KEPT PICKING AT IT (THE SCAB) UNKNOWINGLY CULTIVATING THE WOUND AND CREATING A CRATER SO BIG AND FOUL AND INFECTED THAT EVENTUALLY HE HAD TO BE TAKEN TO THE HOSPITAL, AND ALL THE NURSES AND STAFF WHISPERED AMONGST THEMSELVES OF THE IMPORTANCE OF SEEING "THE FREAK" IN ROOM 203 "WITH THE HOLE IN HIS HEAD."

THE RUMOR WAS YOU COULD SEE CLEAR THROUGH TO HIS BRAIN, BUT I DON'T KNOW HOW TRUE THAT RUMOR WAS.

"THAT'S A HELL OF A COLLECTION." I SAID, OBSERVING THE STACK OF PORN WHILE HE UNWRAPPED GAUZE FROM UNDER HIS CHIN AND AROUND THE TOP OF HIS HEAD, CHANGING HIS BANDAGES WITH THE SELF-CONSCIOUS PRIDE AND SATISFACTION AND SELF-PITY OF A WAR HERO, OR A LONE SURVIVOR OF SOME SORT OF ACT OF GOD.

SOME OF THE PUS AND BLOOD AND MUCOUS SEEPED THROUGH THE LAST LAYER OF THE WRAP.

"ⱼᵤₛₜ ₗᵢᵥᵢₙg ₜₕₑ dᵣₑₐₘ, Fᵤᵣᵢₒᵤₛ, ⱼᵤₛₜ ₗᵢᵥᵢₙg ₜₕₑ dᵣₑₐₘ,” THE WOUND UTTERED AND LAUGHED WITH A BELORUSSIAN ACCENT AS PEDOLO DUMPED HALF A BOTTLE OF DR. PEPPER DIRECTLY ON IT.

I SPENT THE NEXT SEVERAL MINUTES IN A CATATONIC STATE OF DISTILLED EXISTENTIAL BEWILDERMENT. THE TALKING HEAD WOUND WAS SIMPLY BEYOND THE REACH OF MY COGNITIVE FACULTIES AT THE MOMENT.

I WOULD SOON LEARN THAT THE SENTIENT HEAD WOUND WAS NOT ACTUALLY THE CONDITION, BUT MERELY ONE OF THE RESULTS OF THE CONDITION.

“Taking care of myself physically would be playing it safe, brother,” PEDOLO SAID. “As would not watching as much hentai as I could in this too brief lifetime.”

I NODDED SOMNOMBULANTLY AND ACCEPTED A CAN OF CHERRY DR. PEPPER FROM PEDOLO, WHOSE HEAD WOUND WHO NOW SEEMED TO BE WHISTLING AND WHISTLING THE OPENING THEME OF SAILOR MOON.