Chet

      "No, I'm not actually a sociopath. God, I envy sociopaths, it's so easy for them; what I am is much more work than sociopathy." Jack was sitting in his drawing room, cocktail in hand, and going on about his favorite subject; himself. He had called me three days after our adventure with the young ladies in the alley, inviting me to a charity event which he had no desire to attend.
      My first impression of his apartment was incredulity, I had no idea that apartments like this existed in Lansing. Hard wood floors, twelve foot ceilings; perhaps Jack would have been able to find words capable of doing justice to the apartment, but my description would be terribly insufficient. Jack greeted me while fastening his cufflinks and putting the finishing touches on his bow-tie; he poured me a drink and conversed with me in shouts from his bedroom. As I attempted to select which terribly expensive piece of furniture I dared to sit upon, a great black beast erupted into the drawing room. Jack's dog, Kaiser Bill, was some rare breed of jet black Scottish Deer Hound, the size of a small pony, and the friendliest creature ever.
      After Jack had finished donning his unfairly perfect tuxedo, he poured himself a drink and sat down in a luxurious wingback chair that I would come to know as 'Jack's favorite chair'. We talked for a while, Jack always dominated conversations but managed to do so in a surprisingly non-offensive manner. His uncanny ability to instantly and accurately read people made inquiring conversation superfluous in his mind. The reverse also caused conversational difficulties; Jack's synapsis were connected in such a labyrinthine convolution of allusions and oddities that following his train of thought was not only impossible, but potentially dangerous. He would include some phrase, kenning, or allusion in a sentence which made absolutely no sense but somehow left you feeling as if he was condescending to you. When asked to explain himself, Jack would look shocked before apologizing profusely and launching into an explanation that left one even more confused than before. He would grin charmingly and profess that he often forgot that thoughts were not transparent. His close friends quickly learned to memorize a few of his allusions necessary for conversation and never ask about any of the others.
      I was saved from Jack's self aggrandizing meanderings by the arrival of his friend, Rajid. To call Rajid the friendliest man in the world would be a vast understatement; he immediately launched into a delightful interrogation, asking the most obscure questions and honestly caring about each superfluous detail. Jack looked on with warmhearted amusement as Rajid quickly discovered every detail about my past, present, future, my hopes, my dreams, fears, and everything in between.
      Jack seemed somewhat impatient as he fastened his obnoxiously loose watch, "Is Chet going to be at this bloody thing?" He asked Rajid. Rajid smiled at him,
      "Yes! And Dana is also going to be there." Jack burst out laughing, "That's not all," Rajid continued, laughing a bit himself, "Kelly is going to be there as well. And Chet hasn't seen her since that whole thing with you." They were both doubled over, laughing like malicious little children. I looked at them blankly, not sure if I even wanted to know. They turned to me, tumbling over each other in their eagerness to let me in on the joke. "Jack, tell him a back story about Chet, just so he understands."

      Jack cleared his throat to regain his composure. "What you have to understand, Nick, is that I was gifted Rajid, Chet, and a few others by my ex-wife, Lillian. Chet was constantly in love with Lillian in a terribly creepy manner for the entirety of our marriage. I managed to win his respect to enough of a degree to keep him from attempting any dramatics, but he was always there, waiting for his chance. Similarly, he never understood what kind of chaos I could release as a single man; Rajid knew, but Chet had only seen me as a family man." Rajid giggled a bit at this before motioning Jack to continue.
      "I took Chet with me to Grand Rapids for a bit of an adventure one evening. We called my good friend, Anastasia, to come meet us downtown. Chet and I played music for a while but it was quickly decided that the weather was far too cold for us to continue. Anastasia suggested a nearby bar and we made our way in that direction.
      "At the bar, Anastasia bought me a drink and we discussed whatever it is people discuss at bars. Chet and Anastasia had quite a few things in common so that saved me from having to participate in smalltalk. I excused myself for a cigarette and Anastasia invited herself along to split the cigarette with me. Outside, we passed the cigarette back and forth; I laughingly told Anastasia that Chet obviously had a bit of a crush on her. She visibly shuddered and made it clear that she had no interest in him. Eventually, the conversation turned to relationships and the lack of real men in this day and age. She discussed an ex of hers who was incapable of making the first move. She was a feminist but sometimes she just needed a man to toss her up against a wall and ravage her. I paused for half a moment before whispering 'slap me if you want,' and throwing her up against the wall and snogging her. She expressed concerns that we had perhaps known each other for too long. I told her to shut up as I grabbed her very nicely shaped backside, thrust my pelvis forward, and sank my tongue into her mouth.
      "Inside the bar, Chet was oblivious to the looks passing between myself and Anastasia. At one point when she had slipped off to the lavatory, Chet whispered that he would pee in her butt. I shuddered in disgust and told him not to get his hopes up. After several drinks, the bar closed up; Anastasia gave me a look that would make a lesser man weak in the knees and told us that she didn't think we should drive home. I was sober as a sud but readily agreed to go back to her flat for a bit.
      "As Chet and I followed her home, he confessed to me that he thought he might be getting lucky. I thought it only fair to give a shorthand version of what had occurred outside the bar. He looked so crestfallen that I almost felt bad. All sympathy quickly vanished as he suggested a threesome. I told him to keep dreaming and keep drinking.
      "At Anastasia's flat, Chet decided to start shouting belligerently in the hallway; I was forced to physically threaten him to shut him up. I poured him a drink and then threw Anastasia down on the couch, kissing my way down her neck. When Chet drunkenly crawled onto the couch with us, our revelry died down palpably. 'Chet, you seem like a great guy, but this has been five years in the making and we're honestly just waiting for you to fall asleep.' Anastasia told him in an incredibly sexy manner. He seemed to calm down a bit at that. We sat on the couch for a while, talking. Chet decided to give Anastasia a foot massage. She wasn't one to turn down a massage and I'm far too arrogant to experience jealousy so we gave it not a thought. When Chet exclaimed that she had the cutest little pinky toes he had ever seen, we decided that her socks should go back on. She suggested turning on the television, Chet jumped at the idea. 'Turn on Downton Abbey, Jack and I will both jerk off if you turn it on! Come on, Jack, tell me you wouldn't jerk off if she turned on Downton Abbey.' I informed him that I would not be jerking off to Downton Abbey. Anastasia informed him that he would not be jerking off to anything.
      "At this point, he collapsed on the floor and we assumed that he was asleep. We went back to kissing and groping on the couch. I noticed Anastasia freeze and opened my eyes to see a look of absolute terror in her face. 'He's watching us!' She panic-whispered in my ear. I turned around to find Chet perched directly behind me on the couch with the most lustfully disgusting look in his eye. He mumbled that it was cool, he just wanted to watch. We went to her bedroom.
      "Obviously, I had no sleep that night. At around six in the morning, though, our exploits were interrupted by heavy sighing directly outside of the door. We looked at each other with horror before darting back underneath the blankets. My phone rang. I answered it. It was Chet. He demanded that we leave. I told him to give me a second. He informed me that we had to leave immediately. I informed him that I had no idea where my clothes were. He hung up.
      "The car ride home was awkward to say the least. He complained that he hadn't gotten any sleep. I told him that I hadn't either; he was not assuaged. At one point, he told me that he was considering masturbating on the coffee table for some sort of sick vengeance. I responded by complaining how uncomfortable Anastasia's knickers were. He looked at me quizzically, I confessed that I couldn't find my pants so I was wearing her knickers (editor's note: Jack refused to speak what he referred to as "colonial", so in this instance, pants can be translated into underwear. Knickers can also be translated to panties). This ended all conversation."

      Rajid was rolling on the floor in hysterics as Jack finished the story. I was teetering on the line between amusement and disgust. I obviously needed to hear more about this person before daring to meet him and from the look on Jack's face, there was more to come.