“Mr. Tucker?” Phillip Tucker’s eyes come back into focus. “Why is a cop wearing a bikini in February?” he thinks, “It’s not flattering to his girth at all.” “Mr. Tucker, we need to finish up. Are you with us?” says the officer, his mustache sprinkled with the leavings of his borrowed lunch. “Yes, I’m here. I’m with you. What else do you need?” “We’ve got all we need, really.” “Why are you wearing a bikini?” Tucker says, “I don’t mean to pry, but you could at least shave off some of that hair. God! Were your parents bears, or are you Italian?” Detective Marbry smiles, remembering that Tucker here is not really “here”. He is seeing things from “there” mixed with things from “here”. Marbry lets the question lose steam. Tucker’s eyes begin to glaze. “Mr. Tucker, stay here. You have to stay here. Going ‘there’ will not help. Would you like me to ‘remind’ you where you are? Would you? If you do, I need your consent. Mr. Tucker.” “Yes, yeah, sure, ‘remind’ me. Fine. Good. You have my…permis…” Marbry slaps Tucker just hard enough to not break anything. “There, that should keep you here for a while.” Tears come to Phillip’s eyes. He bares his teeth. “Thanks. Yeah, that should do it. Thanks.” “Mr. Tucker, would it be alright to turn off your…” “No! No, it would not be alright to turn off my machine.” Tucker says, trying to stand, duct tape holding his wrists to the Aeron chair stops him. “If you so much as touch the...” Marbry flicks Tucker’s nose with his finger. More tears appear. “Thanks. Yeah, turn…it……off………if…you…have to.” Phillip says. Marbry reaches over to flip the switch. He hesitates. “10.9% APR on a fixed……” Squeezing his eyes tight, he reaches in his pocket for the “flusher”, pushing the button even before the remote is all the way out. It makes a small humming sound. Tucker’s computer screen goes blank, the images seeming to be sucked into a hole in the center. “Like crap down a toilet” thinks Marbry when he opens his eyes. “Do you guys enjoy doing this stuff?” Phillip says. Marbry flicks Tuckers nose again. “Alright. I’m here. I’m still here, so enough with the nose, alright?” “Good then.” Marbry takes a deep breath. “You know your bird is dead, right?” “My what?” “Your bird.” “What are you…?” Marbry swivels in his chair to reveal an empty birdcage on the opposite wall. Tucker stares, then “Girly Bird? Girly Bird is…” “Yes.” Marbry says, “Sorry.” “But I was only…” Tucker says, staring at the blank computer screen. “For two weeks. You were ‘grazing’ for two weeks.” “Not possible…” Marbry moves to flick again. Tucker goes quiet. Marbry points to the screen “They pay people lots of money to figure out what you ‘need’.” He thinks for a second, then “Do you ever wonder why you never get any come-ons for really cool stuff?” “I get cool stuff. Don’t think I don’t. Just yesterday I got a...” “You got an offer for a free bikini wax and a…wait. Is that why you asked me about wearing a bikini? And the bear/Italian thing? See? You’re still ‘tween’. Know what that is?” “Sure I do. I’m not…” “That’s right. You’re not. Simply put, you’re not all ‘there’ yet. You ‘tween‘ cause going ‘there’ full time scares you, and staying ‘here’ bores you. So your mind gets ‘tweened’ and you start seeing ‘there’ stuff ‘here’.” “Shut up! Shut your filthy…” Marbry extends his index finger. Tucker calms a bit, but not as much as before. He knows what Marbry is doing, that Marbry knows how he will react, and there isn’t a thing he can do about it but ride the ride. “Good. You’re nice and pissed now, aren’t you? Anger helps focus. Not as good as pain…” Marbry twitches his pinky finger. Phillip flinches. Marbry chuckles. “What do you want? You said you were done with me.” Phillip says. “Technically, I am.” Marbry stands. He walks around the spacious apartment. Boxes line the walls, all unopened. “You buy this stuff?” “You know I did.” “I’ll bet you don’t even know what’s in any of them.” “So what!” “Excellent. Stay focused.” He grabs a box from the middle of a uniform stack. The boxes above it tumble to the carpet. “Know what’s in this one, do you?” Phillip’s stares again at the computer screen. “Probably not.” Marbry gouges the cardboard box with his car key. He reaches in and pulls out a tennis shoe with a spring platform crudely screwed to the sole. Marbry laughs. “Jordan Aires? You bought Jordan Aires?” Phillip Tucker smiles. “Yeah, I remember them. They work, you know.” Tucker says, “The video clip from the link showed them working. On a white guy, looked like me. He sky’ed on LeBron. Yo, I seen it my own self. I…” “Stop it!” He flicks Phillip on the forehead. Tucker bites his lip. “You know these have nothing to do with Michael Jordan, don’t you? ‘Jordanaires’ was the name of the backup group for Elvis. You been duped.” “Why can’t you leave me alone? Who sent you here anyway?” Marbry sits down in the chair next to Tucker. He pushes the spring on the shoe in and out. “Posturpedic mattress spring, circa 1974.” Marbry leans in. “Mr. Tucker, sometimes people, concerned people, come to me with problems. Problems that I have been trained to solve. But the solutions to some of these problems go beyond my normal sanction.” “You’re a ‘Moonlighter’ aren’t you?” Tucker says. “Mr. Tucker, my job is to plug “holes” that let evil things make people unhappy.” “Evil? This is spam, you idiot. I…” “Your bird is dead.” He starts to dismantle the computer. “You don’t decide any longer. Evil? Evil isn’t evil because of what it does. Evil is evil because of what it causes.” Tucker slumps. Marbry may as well be dismembering his child. “No. Evil is the absence of hope.”