“I don’t know where it is man”, he said as he paced around the kitchen table, randomly lifting things up to look underneath them.
“Did you check the dustbin?”, I asked helpfully.
“No... Yes. It’s not in the dust bin.” he poo-pooed.
“Are you sure..”
“It’s not in the dustbin, okay?” he said getting irritated. A cloud of smoke rose up from the sofa, as a voice on the other side of it said “Yeah man, why would it be in the dust bin?”
“When did you last have it?” I asked, as I followed him into his bedroom, as he still randomly lifted things up and turned them over.
“Today! I noticed it was gone before I came to meet you.” he said as he turned to me with his hands on his hips.
“What did you do today?” I inquired, trying to jog his memory and establish the facts of the case.
“Nothing! I went to my mother, had lunch, came home, met you, came back home. That’s it.” he recounted. With this he turned back towards the living room, re-lifting all the objects along the way.
“Hey, is this it?” I said as I picked up a black leather wallet that was lying on the kitchen table.
“No.” he replied with an of-course-that’s-not-it-you-idiot tone in his voice. “Nah man, that one’s mine.” the cloud of smoke from the sofa chimed in.
“Did you have it at your mother’s?” I asked as I put the wallet back down on the table.
“Yes”.
“And you noticed you lost it when you got back?”
“Yes”.
“You’re going to have to cancel your cards, man” came a call from the guy on the sofa, feet rested on a small coffee table that had an ash-tray still emitting a trail of smoke from a recently extinguished cigarette.
“God damn it”, my friend said as he stopped in his tracks in despair.
“Did you have a shower before you went out?” I asked. If he had a shower he might have changed his clothes and left his wallet in his other pants.
“No.”, hmm, so much for that idea.
“Did you change?”
“Yes.”
“Did you check..”
“Yes, I checked my clothes.” he interrupted.
“Did you have any money in it? Think back, what did you eat for lunch?”
“What?”
“What did you eat?”
“Penne Bolognese. What does it matter?”, he said, his eyes widening.
“I’m just trying to jog your memory. Was it good?”
“My mother cooked it, of course it was good. What the hell does this have to do with my wallet?” he said, raising his voice.
“Hey, here it is! No, wait that’s mine. Sorry man”, the sofa guy said as he picked up his wallet on his way to the fridge.
“And how do you know you had your wallet at your mother’s?” I asked.
“I know”
“Maybe you left it here..”
“No, I had it.”
“How do you know?”
“I gave some money to my mother.”
“Why?”
“That’s none of your business!” he fumed.
“But why? This is crucial information!” I insisted. Now we were finally getting to the bottom of it.
“Yeah, why did you pay your mother, man?” sofa man contributed as he walked back to the sofa. My friend folded his arms and raised one eyebrow, saying nothing.
“You’re not really helping with this investigation..”
“I don’t need a bloody investigation, I need my fucking wallet!” he said angrily.
Well we’re not going to find your wallet if you don’t start cooperating…”
“Shut up, or I’ll shut you up”
Some people are so ungrateful. With this he turned away and started to walk around the kitchen table again to re-re-lift all the bits of paper and cloth and clutter in search of his missing wallet.
“So did you check in the car?” I asked, judging it was now safe again to relaunch the investigation.
“Of course.”
“The ground near the car?”.
“Yes”
“Hey man, is this it?” said the voice on the sofa as he held up my wallet.
“No, man, that’s mine.” I said as I took it and put it into my pocket before it too went missing.
“Did you call your mother?”, maybe she had it.
“Yes, she looked everywhere, she couldn't find it.”
“Does your mother…” I started
“Yes?” he said and stopped, giving me a stern look.
“Does your mother, um, know.. know how to look?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, does she look well?”
“What are you getting at?”
“Well, sorry, it’s just that there’s something missing here…” I said exasperated.
“I know there’s something missing. It’s my fucking wallet. Now stop asking stupid questions and keep looking!”.
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| Hey, I can't find my gate... |
