Page 60 of Burn Bag

“Yeah, I looked into the whole randomly passing out thing. Kind of weird. You’d think there’d be a reason for it.”

“She said there is. Random cut off of blood flow.” I scoffed at that. “She acted like it was all fine, as if it was totally normal for blood to just stop flowing to one part of your body. You have veins. That’s their job is to carry the blood from one part of your body to another!”

He reached over and rubbed my shoulder, trying to cool me down. “Relax, man. You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack.”

“I just…fuck, I had no clue what I was getting into. I thought I was marrying this normal woman, and I ended up with some crazy chick!”

“Yeah, normal. You met her online.”

“You did the analysis,” I pointed out.

“Right, and I’m pretty sure I told you then that it was batshit crazy. You don’t meet the woman of your dreams through a dating website. It just doesn’t work.”

“It’ll work,” I scowled. “I refuse for it not to work. I just have to figure out a way to keep her upright and prevent her from burning her hand or any other part of her body.”

“Seems simple enough. Remove all the appliances and push her around in a wheelchair.”

That did not sound like a good option. I pulled into the parking lot and got out, but it took Dash a moment to follow.

“Come on. We don’t have all day.”

“Wait,” he called, running to catch up to me as I hurried into the store. “What are we doing? I thought you needed my help!”

“Do you want me to stop and explain or do you want to get this shit over with?”

“I’d like you to stop and explain!”

But I didn’t. I kept walking, because the sooner I got this shit takencare of, the faster I could be on my way. I quickly found the aisle and waved my hand at the items in front of us on the shelves.

Dash looked at them, then shot me an irritated look. “What are we doing?”

“Buying a better fucking litter box.”

Dash frowned at me. “And why did I need to come along for that?”

“Because you’re the research guy. You do this shit.”

Crossing his arms, he turned to me in the middle of the aisle and scowled. “I do what shit?”

“This!” I pointed at the many boxes in front of me. “Research. That’s what I just fucking said.”

“I work in the IT department.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, already tired of this shit. “Doing research.”

“On bad people,” he clarified. “You want names, dates, secret information— I’m your guy. I do not research cat litter boxes!”

“What’s the difference?”

“Uh…about a million different things. You dragged me out of a meeting for this?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t really important,” I retorted.

“Right,” he snorted. “Only a meeting about the direction of the company. Nothing too big.”

“See?”

“Kavanaugh, what the fuck is your problem? Since you met this woman, you’re acting like a crazy man!”

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