"Let's Do It"

 

After some several minutes of walking in the darkness they saw another faint glow up ahead. They came to a corner and turned it, and way down another brick passageway they saw what looked like a stairway, the entrance illuminated by another hanging light bulb.

"We are saved," said Addison.

"That remains to be seen," said Milford.

Another minute brought them to the stairwell and to a narrow spiral staircase, unpainted, dirty, stained with rust, and festooned with cobwebs.

"After you, my friend," said Addison.

"Why me?" said Milford.

"There's only room for one at a time, and one of us must go first."

Milford bent forward, craned his neck and looked up. 

"I see a light up there," he said.

"Grand," said Addison. "Go right ahead and I shall be hard on your heels."

"I don't want to go first," said Milford.

"May I ask why?"

"Isn't that obvious? Because I'm a coward."

"It's only a staircase," said Addison. He put his hand on the iron rail and gave it a tug. "See? Quite sturdy."

"I saw it move a little bit," said Milford.

"But only a little."

"I'm afraid of heights."

"It can't be more than thirty feet high."

"I'm also afraid of the dark."

"So is everyone, but it's not completely dark. Light your lighter if you're afraid."

"But then I would only have one hand to put on the rail."

"Good God, man, it's only a plain ordinary spiral staircase, now go on."

"Why don't you go first?"

"I'm quite willing to go first," said Addison, "but someone has to bring up the rear."

"I think I would prefer to bring up the rear," said Milford.

"Well, I suppose we could do that," said Addison.

"Good," said Milford. "Please go right ahead, and I will be right behind you."

Now Addison bent forward, craned his neck and looked up.

"Well, okay," he said. "But you will be right behind me?"

"Yes," said Milford.

"You won't abandon me?"

"No," said Milford.

"Because I am your only friend, you know."

"Yes, I am all too well aware of that."

"Okay, by George, I'll do it. I'll go first."

"Good."

"But look," Addison turned to Milford, "if anything happens to me, will you please write my Aunt Edna and let her know. You'll find her name and address on an envelope in my breast pocket. It contains a check for five dollars which she sent me for Christmas, but I haven't gotten around to cashing it yet. Send her the check back and tell her that I wished to thank her."

"Okay," said Milford. 

"Her full name and address are on the return address on the envelope."

"Right."

"Tell her – tell her I was thinking of her. And that I appreciated all the checks she has sent me over the years, as well as those sent me by my Aunts Enid, and Edith, and Sarah, and Kate, her sisters."

"All right."

"I should not have survived this long without their help, their kind remittances on holidays and birthdays."

"Okay."

"You'll remember?"

"I'll remember," said Milford.

"Also, in my wallet you will find the ten dollars I have left from that twenty you lent me."

"It wasn't a loan, it was a gift."

"Well, anyway, please take the ten, in repayment."

"In repayment for what?"

"For being my friend. And for writing my Aunt Edna."

"Look, Addison, I appreciate the thought, but nothing is going to happen to you."

"But in case something does."

"Okay," said Milford.

"All right, I'm going now," said Addison.

He took one more drag on the butt of his Chesterfield, and dropped it to the dank brick floor. He sighed, deeply, and took the first step. 

Milford let Addison take three more steps, and then he threw his Husky Boy dog end to the bricks and mounted the first step, and then another, and another. It occurred to him that he had neglected to grind out the two cigarette butts with the sole of his brogan, but he let it go. It was too late to turn back now.

After all that, it was only a matter of a minute before they reached the landing above. The staircase continued upward, but Addison stepped out of the stairwell, and Milford soon followed him.

It was another dimly lit hallway.

"Which way?" said Addison.

"I see a vague light down there," said Milford, pointing to the right.

"I hope it's not that place full of douchebags again," said Addison.

"If it is, we'll just keep going," said Milford.

"All right," said Addison. 

They walked down the hall, turned a corner to the right, and about fifty feet farther along this hallway they saw another door, with another light over it. They continued on and when they got to the door they saw a hand-painted sign on it which read 

Abandon hope 

all ye 

who enter here

"Should we go in?" said Addison.

"Speaking only for myself," said Milford, "I abandoned all hope when I was three years old. So, yeah, let's go in." 

There was a handle on the door with a thumb catch, and Addison put his hand on the handle, pressed the catch and opened the door.

Inside was a bar, yet another shadowy bar, the murmur of voices, the haze and smell of smoke, the thick aromas of whiskey and beer, the playing of a forgotten song on a jukebox.

"Another bar," said Addison.

"I see that," said Milford.

"We'll just go in and ask directions."

"Okay."

"What could go wrong?"

"I think a more appropriate question," said Milford, "might be, 'What could go right?'"

"Ha ha. Again that bone dry Milford wit."

Milford said nothing. Despite himself, despite all he knew about himself, he had a strange desire for a tall glass of beer, any kind of beer, just so long as it wasn't disgustingly warm. Would it be so terrible just to have one glass of beer?

"Shall we?" said Addison.

"Yes," said Milford. He had already said "no" more than enough times for one lifetime. "Let's do it."

{Kindly go here to read the unexpurgated "adult comix" version in A Flophouse Is Not a Home, profusely illustrated by the illustrious Rhoda Penmarq...}