I No Longer Have a Best Friend

"Johnny?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Johnny, it's me, Frankie. I gotta tell yous something, man."

"What's a matter wit' yous, Frankie? It's freaking three a.m.!"

"What? Was you sleeping or something?"

"What do you think there, knucklehead?"

"My bad, Johnny, man," Frankie went on. "Listen up for a second, though, bro. I got something dope to show you, man. Can I come over?"

"Like, right now?" I asked, sitting up in bed.

"Yeah, man. Be there in twenty, bro. See you soon."

"Frankie, hold u-" but it was too late, the line was dead. Which meant that Frankie was likely already in his car and headed for my place.

With a deep sigh, I rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed. "Damn it, Frankie," I muttered as I stood and stretched. I made my way to the bathroom and relieved myself before heading out to the kitchen. Once there, I grabbed an ice cold can of Coke from the fridge and popped the top. Something about ice cold pop in the early morning. Ain't nothing quite like it.

I took my can of pop to the living room and lit myself a smoke. None of the apartments in my building allow smoking, but what the landlord don't know won't hurt me.

It was shortly after that when Frankie showed up at my door. He knocked so loud, I thought the old couple next door was gonna wake up and come to my door, too, just to pitch a fit. Lucky for Frankie, they never did.

"Hey, Johnny!" Frankie said, greeting me with a huge smile and grabbing me up in a bear hug. "How yous been, man?"

"Been good, Frankie. I been good. How about yous, Frankie? Yous doing alright?"

"Man, I'm better than alright, Johnny! Matter of fact, I ain't felt this good in years."

I cocked my head to the side. "So, what's this super dope thing you wanted to show me, Frankie?"

"You got a hammer?"

"A hammer?" I asked, scratching my head. "Like, for pounding nails?"

"No, for pounding your pud! Of course, for pounding nails, you dork."

Shaking my head, I made my way to the small broom closet in the kitchen. I kept a few tools in there. I grabbed the hammer and went back into the living room. "What yous need this for, Frankie?" I asked, handing the hammer over.

"Man, you ain't gonna believe this, Johnny. Come here," he said, heading to the dining room table. He laid his hand out flat on the table and brought the hammer up high over his head.

"Hey, yo, Frankie, man. Hold on a second. What're yous d-"

It was too late, Frankie brought that hammer down on his hand like it was a rat eating his last scrap of food. He winced and then held up his thumb. Instead of the mangled stub of flesh I expected to see, Frankie's thumb had swelled to three times its original size, and it pulsed comically in time with his heartbeat.

"What the f-"

"Oh, it gets better, Jonny," he said. Frankie shook his hand around, flapping it like he had some tape stuck to his fingers. When he stopped, his thumb was back to normal. "Huh? What'd I tell you, Johnny? Ain't that just the craziest damn thing you ever seen?"

I grabbed Frankie's hand and pulled it toward me, turning it over to look for any signs of injury. There was nothing. It was like the hammer had never touched him at all.

"Frankie, what is going on with yous, man?"

"I'm a living cartoon, Johnny! That's what! Check this out, man!" Frankie took the same thumb and stuck it in his mouth. He blew on it and his middle finger began to swell up like a balloon, getting larger and larger with each breath. Eventually, it grew so large it popped and rained blood and bits of finger all over my living room. Again, Frankie shook his hand and it all disappeared. His finger was fully restored.

I stood there, staring at him with my mouth hanging open. "I don’t …I don't understand, Frankie. How is any of this possible?"

"I got no rightful idea, Johnny. I just figured it all out last night. I was trying to change the bulb in my fridge, when I slipped and broke the stupid thing. After the bulb broke, I got shocked. Real bad. But it didn't even hurt. I looked down and realized I could see my bones through my arm, like in one of them old Saturday morning cartoons."

"What else can you do?"

"That's why I'm here, Johnny. I was hoping yous could help me test it out. See what the limits are."

It all kind of hit me at once and I plunked down on the sofa, lighting a fresh smoke. "What all have you tried, so far?"

Frankie put his finger to his chin, his eyes looking to the ceiling. "Well, I mean, there's the electricity thing, the hammer thing, and the bit where I blow up my finger. I guess that's pretty much it."

Then it came to me. "How's about a fall? A long one. Never killed that stupid coyote when we were kids."

Frankie's face lit up. "Hells yeah, Johnny. That's a great idea. Guess we know why Mr. Salazar picked you as his number two, hey?"

"Yeah. Something like that." I stood, turning towards the balcony at the back of my apartment. It was a solid one hundred foot drop from that balcony to the sidewalk below. "All right, Frankie, here's how we're gonna play this one. I'll go downstairs and set up my phone to record. Once I'm ready, I'll text you, then you do the deed and I'll catch it all on camera."

"Johnny, you're a damn genius! We can post it online. We'll make millions!"

That idea hadn't occurred to me up to that point, but when Frankie said it, I knew it was true. But, in order for that to happen, I had to let my best friend take a flying leap from the tenth floor balcony. Was I really willing to put his life in danger for my own personal gain. I was never the most moral person, but I wasn't heartless.

"You sure about this, Frankie? Like, one hundred percent?"

"Absolutely."

"But, what if-"

"Nope," Frankie said, making a zipping motion across his lips. When he did, his lips actually zipped closed. He shook his head and they returned to normal. "Zip that lip, Johnny. I'll be fine. I'm a living fricking cartoon for Pete's sake! We're doing it, and that's final."

I threw my hands up in a 'don't shoot' gesture. "Hey, it's your funeral, Frankie." I headed to the door and stopped to look back. Frankie was already standing on the balcony looking down at the street below. I shook my head and left the apartment.

As I made my way outside, I couldn't help but wonder if I hadn't just signed my best friend's death warrant. Yes, he had shown me that he could injure himself without true, lasting consequences, but cheating death. That's a different matter entirely.

When I got outside, I pulled up the camera app on my phone and lined up the shot. Once it was solid, I opened my text messages and sent Frankie a text that simply read, "Ready."

As soon as I hit send, I pulled the camera back up and lined up the shot the same as before. In just a few seconds, I could see Frankie's body hurtling towards the sidewalk. The crazy mother was in a Superman pose, his fist held out in front of him like he was flying freely instead of free-falling.

I caught the whole thing on camera, just like we'd planned. To include the man-sized crater that Frankie created when he hit the sidewalk. I ran over to the crater and stuck the camera out over it. Frankie looked up at me with a huge smile, giving the camera a thumbs up.

"See, Johnny? I told you, man. All good," Frankie said, tipping me a wink. He climbed up out of the hole and when he stood up, his torso was folded up like an accordion. His body bounced as he walked, making accordion noises as he approached. Frankie shook himself like a dog. When that didn't work, he put his thumb in his mouth and blew. In a few seconds, his body puffed back out and he was normal again.

For a second, my head just reeled. I couldn't believe that Frankie had just survived a fall from ten freaking stories up. More than that, though, was the overwhelming thought that we were about to become a couple of rich fools.

"Frankie, man," I said, throwing open my arms, "We're about to be rich, man!" Frankie ran into my arms and we hugged, jumping up and down like a couple of kids. It was the happiest I'd been in awhile, and it was the happiest I'd ever seen Frankie.

"Put your hands up, fool!"

I immediately froze, my hands involuntarily taking the position. Frankie turned to the young guy with a sneer on his face. The kind that literally went ear to ear. The dude with the pistol went pale and the hand holding the gun shook.

"I don't wanna hurt you, fool," he said, his voice wavering only slightly, "Give me your valuables and I let you live, homes."

"Let us live?" Frankie asked, forcing the words through locked teeth. "Cute," he said, dashing forward and grabbing the young guy by the throat. The dude dropped his pistol when he started choking. At one point he even pissed his pants.

"Lemme go, fool!" the young guy gasped in a garbled voice.

"Let you go?" Frankie asked. "Why ever would I do such a thing? After you've been so rude to my friend and I. I wonder," Frankie said, tapping his now talon-like fingertips on his chin, "should I, let you live?" He turned to face me, and I swear, he wasn't Frankie, anymore. He'd been possessed by something not of this world. "What do you say, Johnny? Should I let him live?"

"Y-y-yeah, F-Frankie," I said, my hands still up in the air and shaking in fear, "let him live, man."

Frankie turned back to the dude he was still holding in the air single-handedly. "You're a lucky little worm," he hissed. "Lucky that my friend here is such a nice guy. Much nicer than yours truly." Frankie dropped the guy and slashed at him with his claws as he ran away.

"H-hey, Frankie," I said, my voice shaking. "I think maybe we should go, man."

"Yeah, Johnny," Frankie said, shifting back to normal. "I think that's a good idea, man. I ain't feeling so hot."

I could see what he meant. He was clearly disoriented, stumbling around, trying to find something to latch onto.

"Easy there, Frankie. Easy," I said, stepping towards him. "Let me help you, man."

Frankie flailed weakly, trying to shove me away. "No, man. I'm okay. I got this."

"Frankie, stop," I said, grabbing for his arm.

"Screw off!" Frankie said, jerking away from me. He stumbled into the street, spewing more curses.

"Frankie, stop!" I screamed, but it was too late.

Frankie had stumbled into the street and neither he nor the bus driver bearing down on him saw each other in time. The bus plowed into Frankie head on, splattering him ten ways to Sunday and leaving a bloody smear on the pavement.

"Frankie?" I asked, my voice hoarse. I took a few tentative steps forward and all I could see was bits of my best friend laying everywhere. He was one hundred percent dead. I couldn't understand it. He had literally just been transformed into some evil caricature of himself, just like a living cartoon. Now…he was dead. I fell to my knees and bawled like a baby. Frankie was like my little brother, and I'd let him die.