New Tattoo. Anxiety. Girls' Phone Numbers.

“I was curious about the new tattoo that you wanted to get. What is it going to say?” said Brooks.

“It's gonna say something like 'you can see the light through her dressing gown behind her. And you can't stop shaking as you welcome her into your bed.,'” said Ugo. “It's from Grapes of Wrath by Steinbeck. I wanna get it on my chest. It's like an attractive quote.”

“Attractive for women?” said Brooks.

“For men too,” said Ugo. “Yeah. There you go. There's our blog post. Did you masturbate today?”

“Yes. Yes I did. Did you?”

“No.” Brooks and Ugo both laughed.

“Why not?” said Brooks.

“Never got around to it. I thought about beatin' it as soon as I got up, but I just didn't get around to it.”

“Gonna get around to it later today?”

“Well I don't know. I don't think so.” A moment of silence passed. Ugo got a pained look on his face. He brought a hand up to his forehead.

“Something wrong buddy?” said Brooks.

“Anxiety,” said Ugo.

“What are you anxious about?”

Ugo got up suddenly and walked away. He came back and sat down again.

“Yeah I fell over on the way over here,” he said. Another moment of silence.

“Wanna talk about Tiffany, or Cara?” suggested Brooks.

“Cara's from Mexico. She didn't give off a latino style though. Attractive young woman. And Tiffany. Neither one of them gave me their number.”

“You asked them both.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I didn't get their numbers either,” said Brooks.

“Oh? You just sent off your waves,” said Ugo. He made a giving-off-vibes gesture, like he was casting a spell. “I guess I should learn to do that. Ask them in my mind if they'll give me their phone number. No, that's not it, right?”

“Well, not exactly, but it is a kind of... being more patient. Not rushing things. Just being friends for a while.”

“That's a weekly thing.”

“What do you mean by that, that's a weekly thing?”

Ugo looked at his cell phone. “What did you text me earlier?”

“I texted you 'slightly late, be there soon.' I wanted to ask you what you meant by that's a weekly thing.”

“Well, not calling her every ten seconds. Or every day for that matter.”

“Right, it's like that time we played paintball.”

“Well I just went out and shot everywhere. You remember? I'd just go 'AHHHH!' and start firing?”

“Yeah, and then what happened?”

“Well I got shot, but I wouldn't go down if I was shot.”

“Just like with women, in a way. You rush in, get shot down, and you just keep going.”

“But don't make it out that I'm some sort of Cassanova. 'Cause I'm not. Not even close. I'm a busted up Cassanova.” Ugo brought out his cell phone again and started dialing. Brooks' home phone started to ring.

“Is that you calling me?”

“Don't answer it,” said Ugo.

The phone kept ringing. It went to voicemail.

“Hello I was wondering if [Brooks' roommate] Jo's around. Okay, thanks, bye.”