The dinner of DOOM finally finished, Edgar began to collect the plates and glasses from the floor, in an idle attempt at keeping the mess under his thumb. He reached for Johnny’s glass, but Jimmy had beaten him to it. "I’ll get that. You’ve already got to much to carry." That wasn’t true, Edgar was very talented at carrying fragile things, but he allowed Jimmy to make himself feel useful.

"Thanks for the help, Jimmy, I really appreciate it," Edgar said, having put all of the dishes in the sink.

"I hope you die hideously," Mmy muttered under his breath.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that."

"I said I hope you’ll have us over again someday," Mmy gave him his best cheesy grin, giving Edgar the thumbs up as he spoke.

"That’s funny," Edgar said, looking him squarely in the eye, "I could have sworn I heard you say ‘I hope you die hideously.’"

Jimmy blushed a little at being caught, trying to salvage his innocent appearance by saying, "Well, I didn’t. I said ‘I hope you’ll have us over again someday.’" Jimmy swallowed, "I had a lovely time, really."

"What is it about me that makes you act this way, Jimmy?" Edgar asked, earnestly.

Before Jimmy could answer, or even think up an excuse not to answer, Johnny was in the doorway, and all the animosity that had swollen in the room began to fade.

"Thank you," Johnny said simply.

"For what?" Edgar asked, feeling confused.

Johnny waved his hand in the air flippantly. "The food,"

"Well, you’re quite welcome," Edgar said, "I hope I didn’t bore you to death.

Johnny wasn’t looking at Edgar. He sized Jimmy up appraisingly, then nodded, answering Edgar simply, "If you bored me, you probably wouldn’t be alive right now."

"I know," Edgar responded lamely, "Feel free to drop in. I’m here… A lot."

"You work," Johnny began, forehead wrinkled, "don’t you?"

Edgar nodded.

"That explains the times when you’re not here," Johnny said, matter of factually, "You don’t get out much, do you Edgar?"

The young man attempted to reply, but before he could, the phone rang. He picked it up gingerly, and whispered, "Hello?"

After a few very breif moments of bearly audible conversation, Edgar rose from the phone. "That was Chet."

"Or maybe you do. Who’s Chet?" Johnny expressed his curiosity by leaning forward as he spoke, which made Edgar a little uncomfortable.

"My brother," Edgar responded, and noted Johnny’s change in expression, "Twin brother, actually."

"I thought you said you had no family," Johnny whispered, seeming somewhat dismayed.

"My parents disowned him many years ago. They disowned him for being an accomplice durring a robbery," Edgar became pensive, the years seemed to roll away as he spoke. "We should have expected it. Back in the scouts he lost points for helping an old lady jaywalk across a street."

"Oh, really," Jimmy said, game face restored. "That’s fascinating."

"Jimmy," Johnny breathed, dangerously, "No sarcasm,"

"Right," Mmy felt deflated. He felt as though he’d been backhanded, and he was beginning to really loose hope. Edgar was a nice guy. Contrary to popular belief, nice guys don’t always finish last. In a bad way. Nice guys don’t always finish last in a bad way. ‘Jeeze, Jimmy, pull yourself together. This guy’s got nothing on you. How many times do I have to keep telling you that? You just have to show Johnny just how much better you are.’

Johnny stretched his arms up in a tired gesture, before saying, "It’s been fun. I think I’ll go home and watch some TV. Mmy, if you’re coming with me-"

"Yeah, I’m ready," and he was also very glad to get out of Edgar’s house. It was too perfect, from his nice carpet to his furniture to the priceless fake Faberge egg that sat in his china cabinet. It was hideously well decorated for a tiny appartment. Besides, Mmy felt like Edgar’s goose cookie jar was staring at him. It probably was.
********************************************************************

Johnny had hoped this would go over better, but with Jimmy, sulking was to be expected. They walked home in silence, side by side as usual. Finally, Johnny became so annoyed with Mmy that he decided to ask him straight out.

"Jimmy," Johnny started, impatiently, "What did you and Edgar talk about in the kitchen?"

"When, exactly?"

Johnny rolled his eyes. Jimmy was avoiding the issue like a child.

The lack of reply was reason enough for Jimmy to feel bad for his procrastination of the truth, so he tried to explain it away, "Well, we were in there for a while. Mostly I thanked him for dinner, and we talked about him for a while, and then you came in." Somehow this didn’t sound convincing even in his own ears, so he added, "Really."

Johnny realized this was only half of what had happened, but he decided it was acceptable for the time being. It’s not as though this was the first time Mmy had acted strangely around new people. He’d very nearly killed Devi, but then Nny couldn’t blame him for that. He’d done that himself at one point. Still, He had to ensure that nothing would happen to his old friend. He’d decided to open up communication with Edgar *months* after their incident. Somehow, even though he enjoyed Mmy’s company, it didn’t seem like enough.

Ever since the voices had stopped, Johnny had felt a kind of void in his life, and after some thought, he’d realized it was because he had no friends. He’d tried making up with Devi, but upon seeing Nny and Jimmy at her door, she’d screamed and called the police. That’s when Mmy decided to kill her, and Nny had a hard time convincing himself to stop him.

Mmy had been an impulsive decision. He’d had every intention of killing the rapist, and the process had already begun. But looking down at the terrorized adoration on Jimmy’s face, Johnny just couldn’t end the man’s life. He felt he was loosing his touch. He’d nailed a rabbit to his wall, why couldn’t he kill someone as stupid as Jimmy?

It was really a crazy question to ask himself, now that he’d become somewhat attached to him. He’d come to the conclusion that he needed the company, and Jimmy was happy to be alive, if not somewhat scarred. Just because he’d let him live doesn’t mean he hadn’t run a blade down his stomach. Johnny smiled at that. Jimmy was crazier than he was for staying.

************************************************************************

Jimmy the homicidal home-maker out of his home, Edgar began to tidy the rest of the mess while contemplating what he’d just experienced. Johnny was most certainly seemed dissapointed that Edgar had lied to him, but that seemed to have been remedied. Chet wasn’t really anything Edgar would like to call family, but it seemed that they were alone in the world these days. Even Uncle Ben had bought the farm, and nobody thought he’d ever die. Well over a century old, and strong as an ox till the day he bit it. The consumption. Edgar hadn’t even thought the consumption existed anymore, but apparently there was enough consumption to take out a strong healthy old codger like Uncle Ben.

He’d been the last family member Edgar had at age 19, and although he hadn’t been an easy old man to live with, Edgar was happy to have him. Sure, he thought it was funny to hang Edgar’s underwear outside the apartment door to dry. Sure, he’d buy nothing but sauerkraut and potatoes for weeks at a time. Sure, he flushed Edgar’s goldfish down the toilet before it was dead. But what were these small failing when measured up to the love of a man who’d slap you in the back with his cane for not getting his coffee right?

Yes, Edgar’s young adulthood had been riddled with such happy memories of his wonderful Uncle Ben. He snerked at the very memory of the man.

"Good Old Ben," he said, washing the dishes. He hummed a little tune, thinking back to his recent companions and their strange behavior. "What exactly is wrong with that Jimmy guy? I mean, what’d I ever do to him? He really doesn’t seem to like me."

Only the ticking clock answered. The relative quiet was beginning to get under his skin after an evening of conversation and Rafi. He went into his living room and put a CD on. Sarah Brightman, La Luna. He immediately put the track over to his favorite track on the disc, Scarborough Fair. Easing into his evening, he took apart the unplugged blender and started to scrub the cherry goo from inside.