Suggested listening: Living on a Thin Line – The Kinks
Todd is fucking broke.
The other night, my roommate Brandon and I decided to head up to Wendy’s on Prospect for some late-night grub. Todd came along, despite literally having three dollars in his bank account and 25 cents in nickels and dimes to his name. Brandon spotted him $10 for a quarter-pounder combo so Todd wouldn’t feel left out while we sat in our front yard. When we get take-out at night, we sit on our obnoxious picnic table, eating fast food and looking ridiculous to late-night passers-by.
Todd moved back in with us after his trip to Japan, and didn’t have to pay rent until now, the end of September. When his EI cheques stopped stretching as far as he needed, he started applying everywhere for work. EB Games, East Side Mario’s, Home Depot, Kent; no one’s called for an interview, despite Todd’s Block Two electrical and strong references. The electrical union doesn’t have work for another month, and Todd’s got rent, car insurance, and cell phone bills to pay.
He doesn’t let low finances stand in the way of lifestyle, though. Todd always buys the best of the best. On his Japan trip, he met a friend of Taylor Guitars’ owner Bob Taylor, who told Todd he could get a Taylor electric (MRSP ~$3000) for cost. Despite a negative net worth, Todd’s been on Taylor’s website every day, trying to decide which guitar he wants.
“And if I pay extra,” Todd told me, “I can get my name engraved in mother-of-pearl on the neck.”
A few nights ago, he dug through his Xbox 360 games, looking for non-vitals he could trade in for cash. He couldn’t find any, since Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 doesn’t come out ‘til Remembrance Day, and there’s a lot of gaming to be done before then.
Last Thursday, Todd hauled a few friends to Moncton in his gnarled white car to see Flogging Molly. The show cost $40, and he spent double that on liquor. Gas, however, proved to be the priciest poison, as a Ford Taurus at 100mph is a thirsty bitch.
Around 11 p.m. that night, he fired off a drunked-up text message that sent my unsuspecting phone into convulsions:
“This place is fucked!!!!!!!!!!! In a good way!!!!!!!!!!! I had to piss and now no longer in the front. Oh im ready to head in break some teeth if I have to.”
The next morning, he stumbled out of his bedroom and onto the dirtiest of our three sofas. As sprightly as stale beer, he balled up under an unwashed blanket and stared at hockey and baseball highlights for a few hours, not realizing until about 1 p.m. that Sportsnet repeats its coverage throughout the morning.
“Good show last night,” he finally mumbled while I chomped on goddamn nasty All-Bran.
“Yeah?” I said. My mouth was pleased to do something other than masticate soggy wheat paste. “I heard it started early.”
“Yeah, they went on around nine,” he offered. “I’m hungry.”
“Wanna go out?” I said, since All-Bran is fucking terrible.
“Nah, I can’t get groceries ‘til Tuesday,” he said. “EI doesn’t come ‘til then.”
“I thought you and Matt [the carpenter, another of our roommates] were making like $500 doing that construction job this weekend,” I said. The All-Bran and milk were starting to congeal on my teeth, and drove me into haggle-mode.
“Meh,” he said. “I’ve got to pay off my cell bill, rent, and I still have no money for groceries. I’ll just find something to eat around here.”
He finally got up off the dingy sofa and dug around our cereal cupboard. He resurfaced with an expired box of Lucky Charms.
“Have you seen those Archos Tablets?” he asked as he poured the soggy cereal into a bowl. “They play movies and stream music, and have Wifi, and pretty much do everything.”
“Like an iPod touch,” I said, trying to head off the conversation at the pass. “Like what you have.”
“Nah,” he said, deflecting off my dialectic roadblock. “These have full touch screen, and you can download apps on them.”
“Like an iPod touch,” I said.
“Nah,” he said again. “I think I might get one.”
“You don’t have a job, and you owe rent,” I said. “You’re behind on your cell bill, too. Plus, you already have an iPod Touch.”
“Yeah,” he said. “You’re right.”
He poured milk over old rainbows and pots o’ gold, and dove back under his filthy blanket. After a few moments, he sighed and conceded.
“Yeah, I guess the Archos isn’t the best idea,” he finally resigned. “I gotta save for that guitar anyway.”
