He kept yelling but the broadcaster took the microphone back to his own mouth and said, “Did he ever hurt you at any point tonight.”
Microphone back to Toney’s mouth where he finished saying, “Cousin Scott, Auntie Janina, everybody, luh y’all. NEX!” Then he wiped sweat off his face with a towel and, very calmly and quietly — almost hurt — he said, “Nah he’ain never hurt me, man. I’m undestructable, man. Don’t forget. When I’m ready, I’m undestructable. I fight ennyone, ennytime.”
He took a deep breath then yelled, “Nex!” thrusting his head toward the camera. Then he paused, took a deep breath and said, “Nex. Who nex.”
Someone from his entourage said, “Detroit, baby.”
Toney yelled, “Detroit, Ypsi, Ann Arbor, I’on’t care.”
The broadcaster tried to say something but Toney kept talking.
He said, “Whoever my promoter tell me, ’at’s who I’m knockin ova next. D’troit.” Hitting one hand into the other, he said, “Ey, ey, ey man, bottom line, my talent speak fuh itself. I ain got answer no one else’s queshuns, I’m going home. Have a pawdy. We goan have a pawdy. And eyr-body that doubted me—” he paused, made a serious face right by the camera, “—or didn’t respect me—” paused again, “—fuck em.”
He turned his head to the side.
A guy from his crew said, “You got cho respect, baby. You got it.”
Toney passed by the microphone again and said, “Scuse me.”
The broadcaster tried to say something else, but Toney kept talking.
“Ey, bottom line, Holyfield’s a great fighter,” he said, “I watched him when I’s kid. I did what I had to do. I get paid to do. Bottom line, Detroit inna house.” Then, addressing someone through the camera, he made a phone gesture with his thumb up to his ear and his pinky finger up to his mouth. He said, “Ey baby. Ey bay, I got ya message, baby.”
The broadcaster put the microphone under his own mouth and said, “James, James, let’s try to have a decent conversation or interview here. Hold on a second.”
Toney started yelling again.
He took the microphone out of the broadcaster’s hand and threw it down.
Then he backed up, staring at the broadcaster, saying something inaudible.
Someone handed the broadcaster the microphone again and sound returned.
Toney stared at the broadcaster.
“Don’t run up on me, dog,” Toney said. “I’on’t like that.”
And his entourage took him away.
But he returned to hug Holyfield before Holyfield’s interview and Toney said, “Ey, I luh you man,”—then he let go of the hug and slapped Holyfield’s shoulder. “Much respect to you man. Much luh.”
My girlfriend took a deep breath and made a noise then turned over, facing me.
For some reason I was passingly terrified she’d have James Toney’s head/face.
Like, her body, with Toney’s head and face.
And then of course, she’d open her eyes quickly and lick me, making the ‘thup’ sound too, ew!
I got milk baby.
Nex!
Who nex.
It was hot in my girlfriend’s room and I couldn’t sleep and I’d never sleep again.
Fuck everything except me.
*
Fell asleep for an hour or so and the first thing I heard when I woke up — already sweating, already feeling sick — was some drunk guy on the street, yelling, “There you are! Thought you was hiding, eh!?”
I wanted to yell, “You’ll never get me!”
But I had a headache and my mouth was dry.
I sat up, looked out the window at part of the Chicago skyline.
Kill you — I thought.
My girlfriend was already out of bed, in the bathroom.
Today we were supposed to go to this one-day beekeeping class.
She asked me to come with her a while ago, and I said yes.
So today I was going to a beekeeping class.
*
We stopped at a grocery store on the way.
Everyone had to bring something to eat.
“What should we get,” my girlfriend said. “Should we get fruit, or a pie, or.”
“Let’s just bring a lot of gum,” I said. “And a single bottle of shampoo.”
“Think I’m going to get a blueberry pie,” she said, extending her neck as if to see where the pie was in the store. “You know? Fuck it, that’s good right.”
“Fuck it, here’s your pie. Take it, fuckers.”
“Exactly.”
“It’d be funny if we brought it in and like, a big part of it was already eaten,” I said. “Plus, I’d like to do that because I’m very hungry right now.”
She said, “Yeah,” but didn’t look like she meant “Yeah.”
She went to get the pie and I wandered around.
*
In aisle four there was a scuffed-up, barely-thawed hotdog on the tile.
This is it — I thought.
This is the saddest thing ever.
Can’t get any worse than this.
Escape.
I had to escape.
It was traumatic.
I left the aisle.
But after wandering, I wanted to return to the aisle of the hotdog.
So I did.
And when I got back, two girls exited the aisle, stepping around the hotdog.
They had disgusted looks on their faces.
One said, “That. Is terrible.”
The other said, “Ew, I stepped on it and it rolled a little, ew.”
They both laughed.
I went to find my girlfriend.
Wanted to tell her about the hotdog development.
She was in line waiting to pay.
The line was long so again I returned to the aisle of the hotdog.
What haven’t I learned — I thought.
I stood at the end of the aisle with the hotdog.
A woman pushed her cart towards us.
Here it comes — I thought.
This is it.
Having returned to the aisle of the hotdog, I accept this fate.
The woman rolled over the hotdog with her cart, unknowing.
And the hotdog crumbled some more.
And I felt insane, trying not to laugh as I got back in line with my girlfriend.
To pay and leave.
*
At the bee class, everyone grouped in a small multipurpose room, putting food on a table.
I looked at the different foods on the table and considered walking up to each, eating some so everyone could see, then loudly denouncing the quality of the food, saying “Next,” as I walked on.
A fifty-year-old man came up as I set our pie on the table.
He wore khaki pants and a dress shirt underneath a pale yellow sweater.
He had eyeglasses and his hair was combed to the side.
He set two quiches on the table.
“Got a vegetarian one,” he said. “And, for you carnivores, this one has sausage.”
He looked at me and the pie I had set down.
He said, “Some people like hot pie, some like cold pie. I, personally, love it.”
Then he didn’t say which he personally loved.
And I wanted to know!
His name tag had “Bill” on it.
“You’re Bill,” I said, and shook his hand with both hands and held the shake for a long time.
“Well,” he said, smiling a fake smile, “How long’ve you wanted to know about bees.”
“Ever since I can remember,” I said, putting my hands in my pockets, lightly touching my testicles with my left hand.
He said, “Oh.”
“Yeah since my youth, basically,” I said.
People began sitting for the class.
Bill sat with us.
He and my girlfriend talked — because excited and polite people find and keep each other.
Bill talked quietly, but with amazing enthusiasm.
He seemed to be “fascinated” by a lot.
Many of the things my girlfriend said left him “fascinated.”
When Bill asked my girlfriend what she did for a living, she said, “I teach tenth grade chemistry.” She said it as if for a moment she didn’t know if she did or not.