Doc D's Diary: The Doctor, The Barkeep, and The Homeless

"YOU DID WHAT?"
The few people left in the Shadow Lounge turned their heads to see what was going on; the barkeep sighed and covered her face with her hand.
"I gave her a purple rose.. or at least she said it was a purple rose... and told her you were her secret admirer! Told ya I'd make the love happen! Tickets, please!"
"Truth, I'm bumbling enough with dames without you interfering!"
The doctor grimaced as the child kept her hand outstretched, making ghost noices during the lapse of conversation.
"Fine, here's the other four tickets I promised you," the doctor said reluctantly, putting four dollar bills in the blind girl's hand.
"You're welcome doc! Do you want me to repeat what she said again? I totally have her voice."
"No, hearing that she don't remember me in her own voice once was one time too many."
"Weellll, ooookay!"
Without another word the small girl skipped outside, the doctor's powerful ears hearing her dive into the nearby dumpster. He sighed and sat down at the bar, fully aware that dawn was almost here.
"Uuuuuuugh, I hate myself for asking this, but why did you have Truth talk to Velvet?" The barkeep seemed pained to even bring the topic up.
"Truth said she would put a good word in for me with 'er if I gave her some gold coins.  I told her that if she was going to do it she should just try and be an adorable little girl."
"Have you seen her? She's Nosferatu, D; adorable doesn't describe her."
"I dunno, when you've seen a lifetime's worth of ugliness little girls who make ghost noises start seeming cute, I guess."
While the ensuing awkward pause seemed to be from lack of anything worth saying, the doctor felt the barkeep silently judging him.
"So, do you want a blood wi-"
"I'm hitting the sack and never bothering Velvet again. Night Sara."
"Good night Doctor."
He hated when she called him that.
As the doctor entered his apartment, he felt a slight panic set in. Sara and Velvet are friends; worse, they talk to each other! The doctor couldn't have Sara tell Velvet anything that he's said about her, but he didn't have Velvet's number to try and talk to her first. In a moment of desperation he opened his window and poked his head out, looking to the alleyway below.
"JACK! JACK, YOU THERE?"
"Erm, hrm? Whaddya want?"
The hobo below looked straight at the discarded couch in front of him.
"Velvet, the violinist from Elysium, do you know her number??"
"I know everyone's number. I keep them in my pocket."
"On a piece of paper?"
"Hrm, what? What are you talking about?"
"Dammit, what's 'er number?"
The 'vagabond-American' rummaged through his ragged coat, pulling out a dollar bill which he then chewed on for a moment before returning his gaze to the adjacent couch.
"312-22555225"
"That's too many numbers Jack, and half of them were the same two."
"Your point?"
".....that number spells out 312-CALL-JACK"
"....your point? Listen, you snivelling bag of useless fluff.."
"Jack, I'm up here"
"Ooohhh! Good, for a second there I thought they had found me."
"Who?"
"The furniture mafia! Normally you're safe from them when you're outside. I owe them a handful of money after I rummaged through the Don's daughter. She was a loving futon, bless her, but I needed that $1.38"
"Why did I even bother talking to you.."
"Hrm, what was that? Speak up! You're about three stories tall!"
"I'm just sticking out a windo-; dammit I'm wasting my time."
Category:Fiction