1983

"That must have been very disconcerting", says Carl, putting aside on top of the desk the half-depleted bag of chocolate chips.  "Oh, I'm sorry", he says, "Does anyone want any more?" "Not I, said the pig", says Kenny. "Oh speak for yourself", say I.   "Yes dear, you really know how to set a girl's heart aflutter." "In spades, baby, in spades."  Now that I have Kenny back, alive and well, after twenty-five years of his presumed death by drowning, I am lapping up like a thirsty dog every single opportunity to return to our old selves together, our old coded and campy banter of friends forever.  "What I would really like right now is a tall glass of cold milk." "I actually brought up a four litre jug.  It should be in the bar fridge in the snack bar up here." "I can get it", say I, rising from my chair.  "Where is it by the way?" "You'll need help carrying glasses", says Carl, getting up to join me. "I didn't know we have a snack bar up here." "I'm sorry. we should have kept it stocked during the retreat", says Carl, taking the lead in the hallway, " But we wanted as much communal participation from you guys as possible",  It is in the room behind the mysterious closed door right next to Carl's old bedroom, the same room I was staying in. And there it is, a small fridge, an upper shelf with a microwave, and cupboards, and a small tiki bar with black stools.  There is also a couch, two comfy chairs, a wooden coffee table and a couple of vintage standing lamps.  I have to struggle with a small prickle of resentment that Carl never told me about this room. "What do you think of our guest's tale, so far?"  say I, opening the fridge and pulling out the milk. "I thought after so much chocolate we would be needing it", says Carl." "What is it about milk and chocolate, anyway, say I, because they really do go together." "I dunno.  How old are we?" Remembering my friend's controlled ADHD, I say, "Now back on topic, please." "Yes, of course", he agrees, pulling from one of the upper cupboards four smoked gently curved glass tumblers.  They are tall, and would hold twelve ounces." "How do you like these beauties", says Carl, gently setting them on a tray that he has just pulled out from the bar. "Very elegant.  Now, what do you think of Tron's account." Carl pauses, both hands on top of the bar as though to steady himself.  "Early church history live.  Otherwise...", he pauses as though for dramatic effect, "Had it not been for everything that has happened to us over the last twenty-four hours or so, I would say our friend needs something much stronger to drink than milk."  We are proceeding back into the hall.."but there is no way that any of this could be made up.  No way at all..."