St. Pauly

“The chief put me up for EMT of the year … again,” Pauly said, rubbing the brow above his wandering left eye. “Je-sus.” He ran the sleeve of his Sesame Street sweatshirt beneath his nose to catch the rope of snot that had been dangling there, like the rappelling line of some terribly lost spelunker, for close to a minute. “My kids are not thrilled.”
            “That’s terrific,” Jason said with a wan smile. He might have offered something more emotional had Pauly not told him last week that his boy had died in a fiery Formula One crash in Italy and, the week before, that his daughter had fallen to her death just meters from the summit of K2. A month ago, Pauly hadn’t even had kids.

Of course, Jason knew, not a word of what Pauly ever said was true.

“How’re you liking the new facility? What about that new roommate of yours? Kevin, I think?” Jason ventured, striking out for terra firma.

Pauly closed his eyes and waved a meaty paw through the air. “Don’t ask,” he warned dramatically.

“You having a good birthday, at least?”

Pauly shrugged his gargantuan shoulders. “Eh, he said, “I’ve had better.” With the surgical precision of a backhoe, he hacked at his dessert, trying to separate ice cream from ice cream cake.

While it was true he’d had other birthdays, 47 to be exact, it was a lie to say this hadn’t been the best. Jason had pulled out all the stops. He’d driven them from San Diego to Disneyland, where he’d paid a princely sum for their admission and all the food Pauly could eat, throw up, and beg to have purchased all over again. He’d gotten Pauly a big button with his name on it. With this, a signal to all workers that today was the wearer’s birthday, Pauly was treated to well wishes all the day long, from Tomorrowland to Toontown.

Jason had even arranged for his friend to take a photo with Mickey. For Pauly, this was akin to an audience with the Pope. “Thank you, sir, very much,” Pauly had whispered to the giant mouse, face shining like that of Mosses, come down from the mountain.

Now Jason was treating the birthday boy to ice cream cake at a Baskin Robbins in San Clemente before dropping him back home.