Day 15 - anupamarc's Out of Coffee, Out of Style

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Out of Coffee, Out of Style

by anupamarc


"Castrol level critically low! Castrol level critically low! It is advisable to restock immediately." Alexa's mechanical voice reverberates through the studio apartment. "Restock immediately."

The electronic system fixed to the wall almost comes off its hinges as Harry bangs the table once again. He is plugged into a 3D headset, blissfully unaware of Alexa's warnings.

"For the love of Toadeth! Will you get your arse off that couch and go get my Castrol?" I yell.

Harry scratches his hairy chest. Silver hair glitters against his tattooed torso. The tattoos have faded to a shade of jade and his aged skin sags under the armpits. The goggles come off. He flicks the cigarette towards the bin. Fire erupts from the bin but our very handy, tattered L4D4 catches it with the water spray.

I whack him on his baldhead. "Look at this, Haza." I block his view to the TV and show my left arm, which ends in a steel stub where the fingers should start. "They fell off this morning. I'm really running out of juice."

Harry leans to the right so he can look at his new high scores at the large screen. I am interrupting his 'Lord of Avengers' game.

"Leave me alone, Suz. It's LoA time."

"Harry Pyles, you play all day and if I wait till you finish I'll be lying in one heap of metal in the corner." I flick the screen off and turn to him with my hands on hips, well with whatever's left of my hands. "Will you go please?"

He flings the remote in a typical Harry-styled tantrum. "You know how hard it is to find your med nowadays. It's gonna take me all day."

"But you haven't done any work since 2017, Haza. One day's work won't kill ya. And anyway, we're running out of coffe–"

"Shhh! Woman, keep your gob shut. One of these days you'll get me arrested."

He rises to his feet. His underpants hang loose on his scrawny butt. Multiple layers of flabby skin and tires hang from the waist. 250 years of life does that to everyone. Humans can stay alive but it's hard to look like you used to.

He picks up the speedos and changes into them, grumbling, "I hate wearing these."

"Dahling, you always look superhot in those." I kiss his lips. His grey beard rubs against my soft skin.

"You're just saying that as you want me to get that damn med for you."

"You'd do that for me, won't ya?" I give him another kiss. "And anyway, that's the only way you can go incognito or do you want everyone out there to recognize the famous Harry Pyles. Remember how much trouble those stalker girls gave us last time."

Harry's eyes have a dreamy look as he grins. That must have been 75 years ago but it works every single time I mention. The speedos are on and his figure turns transparent and vanishes from my sight but his lips still hover close to mine. His breath close to my cheeks, he says, "Yeah, okay. I'm doing this for you but I want 'that' when I get back."

Harry's been gone for four hours and there's no sign of him. His tracker died weeks ago so I have no way of knowing what he is up to and if he is in trouble. After another twenty minutes of pacing I decide to head out, broken limbs and all. At this rate I might actually end up a pile of metal on the pavement but what choice do I have. That plonker hasn't done any work for the past 200+ years. Scratch that. Harry Pyles never did any work. Period.

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