Chapter Text
Charlie liked to think he was pretty tolerant of bullshit. You kinda had to be immune to it when you worked for Smiling Friends. There were very few things that pissed him off enough to be an ass about it. Unfortunately for Charlie, one of those things was psychics.
After his grandmother died from a rotten peanut, Charlie's mother went a little crazy. She spent a fortune on a medium to try and commune with the dead, but it was all in vain. He didn't understand her urge to say goodbye then or now.
This day already wasn’t one of his best. By the time the evening rolled around, he was already in a sour mood. His patience was already wearing thin thanks to sleeping like shit, Meep Eats fucking up his order, and the Boss parading around in borderline stripper gear. The cherry on top was their new job.
They had been dispatched around 5:30, much to Charlie’s dismay. On days like this, he wished he had a “normal” 9-5. Charlie had been driving through the sleepy streets, his hands steady on the wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. To him, this day felt like any other, a gray blur of routine and predictability. Pim sat beside him, radiating excitement and chattering incessantly about the plan to make Miss Terious, the worst-rated psychic in their area, smile.
“Aren’t you excited, Charlie? Do you think she’ll tell us about our futures? Oh, maybe she does palm readings!” Pim said, watching the dark, overcast sky behind the car window.
“You’re kidding, right?” Charlie asked, hands fixed on the steering wheel. As it began to drizzle, he flicked the windshield wipers on. “Do you honestly believe in this crap?”
“It’s not crap!” Pim huffed. From the corner of his eyes, Charlie could see his face scrunch up into a pout. “Have you ever even been to a psychic before? You can’t knock it till you’ve tried it!”
“I’d rather eat a fist full of grass than give my money to someone like that,” Charlie said, sniffing loudly as he stopped at a red light. In his view, psychics were nothing more than con artists, exploiting the vulnerable and the grieving for a quick profit. The thought of it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“Don’t get your hopes up, dude. These psychics are just out to make money off people’s pain. All of that stuff is fake, anyways.
“You don’t always have to be such a pragmatist, Charlie. Sometimes, believing there’s a little magic in the world is fun!” Pim said, making a grand flourish with his hand. “Don’t you think there’s at least a little magic in making people smile?”
“Smiling is just like… it makes your brain release serotonin and stuff. There is no magic in that. Just science.”
The debate that followed was punctuated with the engine's hum and the rhythmic thump of tires against asphalt. If you asked him, Charlie would have said that poking Pim’s buttons was one of his favorite parts of the job. It was never mean-spirited, and their arguments rarely graduated from being playful little jabs to sincere and earnest arguments.
For Charlie, it was just another day, just another drive, just another client, and just another of Pim’s misguided adventures. The engine's low hum and the tires' steady thump against the asphalt created a soothing melody, almost lulling Charlie into a sense of relaxation. The occasional honk of a car horn or the distant rumble of thunder broke the monotony. He found comfort in the familiarity of it all, even if it did little to lift his spirits. Today was no different from yesterday or the day before, and he knew it would be the same tomorrow. Charlie was a creature of habit, and he didn’t hate the mundanity.
Their client's house was a simple single-story like all the other houses on the block. It would be nearly indistinguishable from her neighbor’s if it weren’t for a large sign beside her open door. ‘ALL ARE WELCOME: LIVING AND DEAD,’ it read in big white letters. Charlie was sure he saw the city’s craft store carry that same sign for last year’s Halloween decorations.
“Ooh, spooky!” Pim said as they stepped up onto the porch. Charlie rolled his eyes and looked inside the house.
Inside was a fairly ordinary living room, shag carpeting, and a small table surrounded by folding chairs. On top of it sat a crystal ball, a tarot deck, and a couple of lit tea lights. The more Charlie looked at it, the more it seemed like the crystal ball was a prop you’d get from a store like Spirit Halloween.
“Ah. The two of you must be the Smiling Friends! Are you here to help me make amends?” Asked a figure who loomed in the doorway of the kitchen. Stepping into the light, Miss Terious looked like a stereotypical middle-class housewife who attempted to experiment with her daughter’s gothic makeup. She wasn’t doing the look any favors.
“Are you going to rhyme every sentence? Try- try ending one with ‘orange’,” Charlie deadpanned and was silenced by Pim's elbow to his gut.
“Hello, Miss Terious! I’m Pim, and this is Charlie! We’re here to make you smile! What’s gotcha down in the dumps?” Pim asked. Charlie wished he could be as gullible as him sometimes.
“It has been quite a while since my last smile. My psychic powers lost their spark, devoid of any style. The future’s now a blur, a fog I can’t dispel. All because of Yelp reviews, casting their harsh spell!” The woman pressed her hand to her forehead and offered her phone to her two guests. Miss Terious had pulled up her Yelp profile, proudly displaying one and a half stars.
“Those negative reviews have clouded my mystic sight, turning bright tomorrows into endless nights.” After handing her phone to Pim, she collapsed onto the floor in a dramatic flourish. Charlie wondered if she did theatre back in high school. This seems like something a theater kid would do. “I haven’t found my smile, for it has been hidden in the gloom! I am a victim of the harsh critique that’s spelled my psychic doom.”
Charlie, ever the skeptic, stood beside Pim with arms crossed and brow furrowed in silent disbelief. He couldn't buy into the sorry attempt at mysticism surrounding them, preferring to rely on logic and reason rather than this bullshit. He stole a glimpse from Pim, consumed by her mediocre performance and bad rhymes. Before he could say anything, Pim joined their client on the floor and embraced them in a big hug. Charlie was dying of cringe, and his disease was progressing at an alarming rate.
“That’s horrible! I’m sorry everyone’s so mean to you, Miss Terious!” Pim exclaimed and gave her one last squeeze. Once he let her go, his tiny pink hands cupped her cheeks, and he looked into her eyes with all the earnestness in the world. “Maybe if we believe enough, your next reading will come true! And then you won’t have a losing streak anymore!”
“Or… and hear me out,” Charlie said, feigning the same dramatic flair that their client had. “She could get a real job.”
“The pink man’s suggestion could be the key!” The woman gasped and quickly scrambled to her feet. Grabbing Pim’s hand, she ushered him down at her dinky table. “Come, take a seat; let us wait and see!”
Miss Terious offered both of her hands toward the smaller critter, and he presented his palms with excitement. With her lips pressed into a fine line, she began humming some tune. Charlie didn’t know if it qualified as a tune; it was more like a string of strange, off-key, and irritating notes.
Charlie stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the living room wall, his expression a mixture of annoyance and disinterest as he watched this woman make a spectacle of herself. He briefly entertained the thought of interjecting with a snide comment but decided against it, not wanting to give her any satisfaction. The constant humming continued for an eternity until she suddenly threw her hands above her head and clapped loudly. This sudden burst of energy startles Charlie and her other guest, causing his attention to shift back to her in surprise.
“Ah, the spirits have spoken!” Miss Terious declared dramatically, her eyes wide with faux astonishment. Pim, ever the believer, gasped in excitement and anticipation, leaning forward with bated breath.
“What do they say, Miss Terious?” Pim asked eagerly, his eyes reflecting a mix of hope and wonder. He might have found it endearing if Charlie wasn’t consumed by pointedly not being impressed.
With a flourish of her hands, Miss Terious leaned back in her chair, fixing Pim with a knowing gaze. “They say… they say that you, dear Pim, will face a minor inconvenience in the near future.”
Pim gasped. “A minor inconvenience? Oh no, how dreadful!”
Charlie smirked at Pim’s gullibility but held his tongue, not wanting to spoil the moment for his friend. At least he could take some refuge because she wasn’t rhyming anymore.
“Yes, but fear not,” Miss Terious reassured him, her voice taking on a mystical tone. “For the spirits also whisper that you shall overcome this trial with grace and fortitude!”
Charlie rolled his eyes at the dramatic display unfolding before him. Unable to bear another moment of the woman's theatrics, he excused himself with a mumbled apology and headed out of the dimly lit room. Once outside, the chilly evening air bit at his nose, and he couldn’t help but shiver. Remembering he had a half-drank Red Bull in the car, he set out on a new mission. He removed his vape from his pocket, taking a long drag before letting the sweet-smelling vapor swirl around him.
Something caught his eye as he approached his car to grab his Red Bull.
He scanned the scene before him, taking in the rundown neighborhood with its flickering streetlights casting eerie shadows on the cracked pavement. The night was quiet, save for the occasional distant sirens, pitter-patter of the rain, and car noises that echoed through the streets of Philly. It was grody, just like everything else in this city.
In the dim glow of the streetlight, he noticed that one of their tires had deflated, sinking lower than the others. Cursing under his breath, Charlie knelt to inspect the damage. The rubber was practically flat. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, realizing that this night was turning out to be even worse than he had anticipated. With a resigned sigh, he fished his phone from his pocket and made a quick phone call.
“Uh, hey, Pim,” Charlie said, returning just as uneventfully as he entered, but he was with his Red Bull this time. After taking a swig, he gestured towards where their car had been parked. “Front left tire is deflated. I called Alan, and he should be here to pick us up soon.”
The silence that overcame the three of them was nearly suffocating. Charlie briefly wondered if he had interrupted some heartfelt moment, but the colossal grin shared between Pim and their client was strange. It felt like he was left out of an inside joke.
“What’s uh… what’s with all the grinning?” Charlie asked, well aware of the irony behind his question. He had punctuated his sentence by polishing off his drink. Pim was virtually vibrating with excitement. This would probably warrant concern if he weren’t so used to his co-workers’ excitableness. But this was par for the course.
“Charlie! Don’t you get it?!” Pim asked, raising his hands in the air and turning to their client. She looked as equally overjoyed as he did. “Her prediction was right! You, Miss Terious, are now no longer slumped!”
“You guys can’t be serious. Those tires were, like… a gazillion years old. One of them was bound to pop soon.” Charlie groaned, rolling his eyes. “Plus- it’s like a blanket statement. Anything can be a minor inconvenience. Literally, anyone could have made that guess, and they’d be right 100% of the time.”
“Perhaps your friend has a point.” The lady said, her excitement visibly leaving her face. “Perhaps this was mere coincidence and nothing more.”
“What?! No!” Exclaimed Pim, shooting a scowl in Charlie’s direction. Charlie merely shrugged. He didn’t know what the company policy on making someone frown was, so he chose to ignore her face. Pim, of course, did the opposite.
“What if you did another palm reading? And that one turned out to be true, too? That way, you’ll know you’re back in the groove!”
“The spirits can only reveal so much about you in one day. They need time to recover.” Miss Terious explained.
“So then Charlie will do it!” Pim said, gesturing towards his coworker
“Hold on, I didn’t agree to that.” Charlie objected, crossing his arms.
“Come on, Charlie! It’ll be fun! Besides, aren’t you curious about your future?” Pim asked and began to yank his friend by the hoodie towards the elaborate table decorated with candles, tarot cards, and a big glass ball.
If he were forced to do this, he would make Pim regret it. As soon as they sat at the table, he glanced at Pim, whose excited gaze morphed into an irritated grimace. Charlie’s mischievous grin gave his plan away. He offered his palm to the woman, and before she could even start her reading, Charlie spoke up.
"Just thought you should know - I went to West Virginia last week, and like- an orb flew into my mouth. Is that going to affect my reading at all?"
The woman looked to Pim for validation of this claim. Pim shook his head.
“No, dude- it’s real. I’ve felt some real bad energy following me around after what happened. Maybe I’m cursed or something.”
“You can lie all you want, but the spirits above-” she glanced at Pim again, unsubtly,” “-know the truth.” She warned and took Charlie’s palm.
As she traced the lines on Charlie’s palms, she continued to do that humming thing. But when it suddenly stopped, he couldn’t help but realize that her eyes had focused on him, shooting him with an icy, glowing glare.
“The spirits have much to say about you…”
She hurriedly opened the pack of tarot cards and shuffled the deck. Maybe she worked at a casino before this, Charlie mused. Whatever this is.
“I uh… thought this was a palm reading-”
She hissed in his face and glared at him as she returned to work on the cards.
Wow, she's an asshole, he realized—no wonder she's been getting shitty reviews lately. I’d give her one star too.
He looked to Pim, who had the same confused look on his face.
After a little more shuffling and glaring, she spread the cards out on the table and took his hand again. Her long, bedazzled acrylic nails were digging into his sweaty palms.
“Tell me, which card reminds you of your past?”
Charlie picked the one that was in the middle, but when he went to flip it, she smacked his hand back down.
“What the fuck, dude?!”
“You are impatient!” she hissed, then cleared her throat. “Keep the card face down until we’re done.”
She shoved the card towards him, and Charlie rolled his eyes once more.
“Now… which one speaks the most about your present?”
“Uh…”
Charlie wondered if he could touch the cards after she flipped out like that. He figured it’d probably be best to let her do the touching.
“The middle one.”
She slid that card towards him, her long nails still digging into his palm. He wondered how many more cards he was going to have to pick.
“And one more. Tell me, which one knows the most about your future?”
“I dunno,” He said, shrugging. “Maybe you should ask them?”
The woman, seemingly done with his crap, plucked a random card from the deck and slid it toward him. Now, with three cards in front of him, she stacked her remaining cards and pointed to the first one.
“Let us see what the spirits have to say about your past.”
He watched with irritation as she flipped his first card, but that irritation quickly turned into shock.
The twisted, gnarled horns of an upside-down goat's head looked back at him. ‘The Devil,’ The card said at the bottom. A sharp gasp tore through the air from his left. Of course, that was Pim, but it didn't do much to soothe his nerves.
As he gazed into her piercing eyes, he couldn't shake the images that began to form in his mind - frozen lakes filled with damned souls and snow-topped brimstone. Memories of his time in hell came to him, and he couldn't help but wonder if this psychic, with her shoddy makeup and intense stare, may actually be onto something. Despite his best efforts to suppress it, a chill ran down his spine, and he couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of his confidence wavering.
“The spirits say your vices and addictions have weighed you down. They also tell me that you have tried to curb your appetite for such things. It seems you have not done enough, I fear.”
“Woah.” Said Pim, much more invested in this reading than he was. “That’s uh… kinda accurate, don’t you think?”
Charlie narrowed his eyes and struck the woman with a glare. “You're only saying that because you caught me hitting my vape in the driveway," he spits out, his voice dripping with annoyance. Her head shakes frantically in defense, but he can see the guilt written all over her face.
“I witnessed no such thing. Besides, I have no say in what the cards tell us.” She said, a slight smirk creeping across her face. “It seems the spirits are correct in their assessment, though?”
“Literally everyone has an addiction! Name like… one adult that doesn’t have a caffeine addiction,” Charlie said, aware of the irritation that started to show in his voice.
“I don’t drink coffee!” Pim said, raising his hand like he was called on in school. Charlie was already rolling his eyes.
“Whatever, dude. My point still stands- that’s just a blanket statement.” He looked towards the woman, raising an eyebrow. “You got anything a little less vague? Or do the spirits not like to get into specifics?”
"The spirits have a habit of giving vague readings, unfortunately," Miss Terous replied, shuffling her cards with one hand. "Sometimes they don't want to reveal too much.”
“Shocker.” Charlie huffs, rubbing his face exhaustedly. “What’s the next card say?”
She flips the next card, which is upside down again. It’s a guy in red pants, tied up by one foot. Where he’d usually be dangling, from this angle, it looks like he’s just standing and balancing on one leg. His hands are pressed together, and he’s looking to his left. Pim gasps again.
"The Hanged Man symbolizes someone who is in a state of flux, unable to make decisions or take action.” Miss Terious explains. "It may mean you are feeling overwhelmed or unsure of yourself. Like you are stuck in one place."
Charlie scoffs, rolling his eyes. “What kinda advice is that?"
"But," the woman continues, "The Hanged Man can also represent a transformation or enlightenment.”
Charlie raises an eyebrow. “Enlightenment?”
"Yes," Miss Terious nods. "The Hanged Man can symbolize spiritual awakening or insight into your own psyche. It could mean you are about to have a profound realization or make a significant change in your life."
Charlie snorts. "Yeah right. Like that's gonna happen.”
Miss Terious opened her mouth again, probably to spew more nonsense, but she was interrupted by a loud honk outside her door. Like a white knight in a glorious iron steed, Alan arrived to save the two of them from having to deal with this insane woman for much longer.
Charlie stood and began to talk before Pim had the chance to intervene. “Okay, this was awesome and all, but you got your smile. So Pim and I are headed outta he-“
Those long acrylic nails dug into his wrist, and Charlie was jerked back towards the table.
“The spirits have blessed you with a gift, Charlie. It would be wise to not squander this one as well. Do not be a fool.”
And with that, she finally let go of his hand. He frowned, rubbing his wrist with one of his nastier glares. He turned to leave, and Pim followed suit. Of course, his goodbye was much more kinder than Charlie’s.
“Alan, when did you get a car?” Pim asked, pulling himself up into the passenger seat. His legs didn’t even touch the ground.
At first, Charlie assumed the seats were high since Pim's feet barely reached the ground when he sat down. But then he recalled making too many short jokes when they first met, and was promptly banned by The Boss.He had just missed a perfect opportunity.
“Oh- yeah. I thought you drove like… one of those electric scooters?” He said instead, pushing Pim’s chair forward. This was their little routine whenever they got into cars together. Pim would pull the lever for the adjustable seat, and Charlie would push it to a comfortable distance from the dashboard. He barely thought about it now.
“The United States government paid me a large sum of money after they tried to gun me down with their heli-copters,” Allan said like he didn’t just drop a massive bombshell on his coworkers. Charlie and Pim looked at each other with their mouths agape, and it took Allen a good minute and a half to notice. “… why are you guys staring at me?”
The rest of the night was as uneventful as the day. Once Allen told his story about how he barely survived getting a box of paper clips for the office, the car was dumped into the company garage, and everyone went home for the night.
As Charlie lay in his bed, slightly buzzed and only mildly entertained by the ‘Big Bang Theory Funny Moments Compilation’ Glep had sent him, he couldn’t help but think about what that lady said.
Maybe she was right about something. Maybe something needed to change. But that was a problem for tomorrow’s Charlie to solve.
—
Charlie’s morning was just like the rest. He’d lay in his bed for a while while he scrolled through Reddit, hurriedly take a shower, sift through his dryer for clean clothes, grab a Red Bull from his fridge, and chug it on his way to work. Same old, same old.
“Good morn-a-roonie, everybody!” Pim greeted, walking into the break room with an obnoxiously bright smile.
Charlie watched as Glep gave Pim an irritated glare over his cup of coffee and muttered a long string of gibberish that probably wasn’t very kind. Allan was organizing the company’s sparse collection of coffee cups, organizing them by who they belonged to. This was an attempt to prevent Glep from continuing to use Allan’s favorite mug. Based on the cup that Glep was holding, Allan’s efforts were in vain.
“Good morning, boys!” Mr. Boss greeted them and waved a letter around. It had a wax seal, and the paper looked fancy. He passed it to Pim, who gently picked off the wax and carefully pulled the letter from the envelope. “The two of you have quite the job today! A fancy pants dance is happening, and one of the bartenders is stressed! The two of you should go and cheer her up!”
Pim handed the note to Charlie and looked at the boss excitedly. “Ooh, a fancy dance? Like for socialites and stuff?”
The note was written in unreadable calligraphy, which took him longer to decode than he’d care to admit. It requested that smiling friends come to some old wealthy couple's anniversary party and make the bartender, the author's close friend, smile.
“Uh, that’s cool and stuff, but… I’m going to need to get a new suit.” Charlie said, reaching to itch the back of his neck. Hopefully, no one would ask what happened to the one he wore to the boss's wedding.
“What about the one you wore to my wedding?” Asked Mr. Boss, tapping the pads of his fingers against one another in a way you would expect a cartoon villain would. Charlie wondered what the probability was that The Boss had read his mind. He decided it was probably greater than zero. “You looked mighty spiffy!”
“I… uh…” Charlie began, wondering if he could conjure some sound excuse. Instead, his mind uselessly reminded him of how a drunken Charlie tossed his piss-stained suit onto that weird robot his uncle made him hold on to. After he did that, he recalled drunkenly eating a bag of Cheetos and falling asleep on his couch. When he woke up, his clothes had been ripped into shreds by that weird robot, and ants had started to eat the cheese dust off of his fingers.
The boss clapped his hands and began to leave. “I have faith you’ll figure it out. The two of you are intelligent young men!”
Charlie watched Mr. Boss scuttle down the hallway and into his office and frowned. Staring down at the letter again, he began to lament to Pim.
“Drained my savings account on that knife I got from Jombo, so I’m kinda tight on cash right now.”
“Shlublalalblablamalan. Scribbly boongo tupop!” Glep snorted, taking another drink from his mug. Or, more accurately, Alan’s mug.
“Don’t listen to Glep! We can go to the suit store and buy you a new one for the mission.” Pim said, pulling out his phone. “And don’t worry about the money. I got you covered.”
“Oh, Pim, I couldn’t ask you to do that…” Charlie began, wondering how much money Pim would burn on a suit that wouldn’t fit him.
“Yeah. He might just pee in it a-gain. Ha-ha.” Allan monotoned, giving Charlie a smugly disgusted look from his mug-laden counter.
“Who has an open bar at 3 pm?” Charlie crossed his arms, knowing his attempt to shift the blame onto someone else would not work. Thankfully, Pim had already started to collect his things to leave, so he wouldn’t have to deal with this Flanderization of his character much longer.
“C’mon, Charlie! Let’s get started on our fancy adventure! Handsome Lads, here we come!” Pim cheered, practically dragging Charlie by his sweatshirt and out the door.
The car ride to the suit store was long, but it was far from quiet. The familiar “Mr. Blue Sky” tune filled the car, but Charlie barely registered it. His mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts that drowned out the music. He stared blankly at the passing scenery, not even hearing Pim’s excited chatter about how it was his favorite song.
Charlie wasn't one for tight-fitting clothes; they always made him feel restricted and uncomfortable. Instead, he preferred to wear loose hoodies that allowed him to move freely. It wasn't that he was particularly self-conscious about his body, but he didn't see the point in flaunting it. Despite his love for junk food, he was pretty strong, able to bench-press his weight nearly. However, years of indulging in family-sized bags of chips with every sub-sandwich delivery had left most of his muscles hidden beneath a layer of indulgence and laziness. Previous partners said he was ‘soft’; he even once dated a guy who said he was ‘fluffy.’
Charlie didn’t know how to feel about that one.
Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling of being out of his comfort zone. The suit was perfectly fine. It wasn’t tailored to fit him or anything, but it wasn’t bad. Still, it felt like a disguise. He was used to his mundane routine, and this gray suit starkly contrasted his usual attire. He couldn't help but wonder why he had agreed to wear it in the first place.
"Bro, be real with me," Charlie said, yanking open the curtain to the cramped changing room. Pim sat outside, scrolling through his phone with a glazed expression. His friend's voice snapped him out of it. “How do I look?”
The once-over turned into a double take as Pim struggled to find words. This was beyond weird. Why was he looking at him like that?
“Uh… Pim? You alive in there, dude?” He settled on asking.
Pim cleared his throat and nodded as he glanced off to the side. “Yeah, yeah- no. I’m good. Dandy. Swell. I’m just not used to seeing you in something that isn’t… orange.”
Charlie sighed and adjusted the uncomfortable suit jacket. "I know, right? I feel like a total poser in this thing. But hey, it's for the job. I'm sure I'll get used to it eventually."
Pim nodded, still eyeing him up and down. "Yeah, I guess you look different. But like, different good," he sputtered, his face turning slightly red.
Charlie caught the slight blush on Pim's face in the changing room mirror and raised an eyebrow. "You okay, buddy?”
“I’m good!” Pim said and stood up suddenly. “I’ll be waiting for you by the cashier!” He said and hurriedly ran towards the front.
Weird. Whatever, Pim was a weird guy. He’d seen him do stranger things- like eat a bowl of worms.
One poor financial decision and a stop at Pim’s house later, the two were setting towards the venue where the party was being held. It was in the city, so the two of them killed time by arguing about whether or not werewolves existed (they don’t), which got into a debate about whether or not Sasquatch exists (he does).
The venue was… green. Yeah, green was probably the best way to describe it—green and bougie.
One of the walls was a big, open window. The scene outside was the Philadelphia skyline, backlit by a setting sun. Two big sliding glass doors led outside to a balcony still damp with rainwater. Probably one of the best places to peel away and take a smoke if he needed it.
There were a few standing tables and a wide dance floor, accompanied by a DJ who looked just a little too old for the gig. He seemed like the kind of guy who would play solely Jimmy Buffet songs. To Charlie’s surprise, he played Jimmy Buffet AND Frank Sinatra, which was a weird combination.
Big clay pots hung from the ceiling with large, dangling vines almost within arm's reach. He was surprised that they weren’t brushing against his head with how low they reached. Charlie couldn’t tell if they were fake or not, but he didn’t particularly care. He was more focused on the open bar as opposed to the scenery.
The bartender, a lady with a bright (albeit forced) smile and a short curly bob that fit her face very well, looked stressed.
“What can I get you guys?” She asked, handing a wine glass to the man next to them.
“Oh, nothing for me! I’m Pim, and this is Charlie- we’re the Smiling Friends!” Pim explained while pulling himself up onto one of those tall barstools.
“You got any good whiskey?” Charlie asked, putting his chin in his hand. Pim let out a small huff in disappointment. Charlie pretended not to hear it.
“Sorry, sir. The couple requested only wine to be served tonight.”
“That’s fucking stupid,” Charlie mumbled, and the bartender gave him a nod of agreement before Pim caught her attention again.
The two of them started talking, and Charlie was only half-listening. She was complaining about her boyfriend not proposing the night before or something along those lines. Pim was the right person for this situation, so he just sat back while Pim did what he was good at: helping people.
"Another glass of wine," he interrupted a little while later. The bartender nodded and poured him another glass, her eyes darting to the growing line of empty glasses in front of him.
Charlie took a long sip, the wine's warmth spreading through him. He glanced around the venue. People were laughing, dancing, and having a good time. It all felt so distant—the kind of scene he once would have found interesting. Maybe he was just getting old.
He ordered another glass, then another. Each sip seemed to blur the edges of his surroundings a little more. The green decor, the low-hanging vines, the skyline outside the window—all of it started to blend together. The DJ’s odd mix of Jimmy Buffet and Frank Sinatra became a background hum, barely registering in his mind.
His thoughts drifted to why parties like this always made him feel so hollow. The laughter and joy around him seemed almost mocking. He took another long sip, trying to drown the memories that threatened to surface.
At some point, Pim was telling an animated story to the bartender, and she was laughing along. So, it seems he didn’t need Charlie’s help after all. Charlie watched Pim’s profile as he smiled and waved his arms, laughing with whatever their client said. She broke off the conversation to go and serve another guest, and Pim caught Charlie staring at him.
“You sure you don't want some water?" He asked, placing a hand on Charlie’s forearm. The touch made him shiver. Pim studied his friend's face some more, and reluctantly added; “You look… really flushed. I’ll order you a water.”
Charlie just waved her off, taking the fresh glass of wine. "I'm fine," he muttered, though he knew he was far from it.
“Okay,” Pim said half-heartedly. “Just don’t overdo it.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Charlie huffed, and turned his attention back to his wine glass.
The night wore on, and Charlie kept drinking. The details of the venue grew fuzzier, the conversations around him turned into a dull roar. He was far too drunk to really take in his surroundings now. All that was left was the numbing buzz of the alcohol and the faint, persistent ache of memories he tried so hard to forget.
As he raised another glass to his lips, he couldn’t help but feel that familiar pang. Parties always seemed to have that effect on him.
After what seemed like years, Pim’s voice cut through the dull sound of the crowd and directly into his ear.
“I think it’s time we get going,” He said. His hand was on his arm again, and Charlie felt like it was melting under his touch.
“Why are you so hot?” Charlie mumbled, pulling his arm away from the smaller critter. It was an honest question- his hands were like hot coals. Pim looked at him with a shocked expression, his eyes nearly popping out of his head.
“Let’s uh…” Pim swallowed, and got off his seat after waving goodbye to their client. “Let’s get you home. You’re pretty drunk.”
The drive home was uneventful. Charlie stared out the window while Pim talked some more. His head was starting to hurt, so he opted to tune out whatever he was saying and focus on the passing city. After a long drive that he was shocked he stayed awake through, they finally made it to Charlie’s apartment.
“Bye, Charlie! See you tomorrow!” Pim waved, and he looked a little tired.
“Goodnight, dude.” He mumbled in return before plodding his way into the apartment building.
Charlie stumbled into his apartment, the quiet darkness greeting him as usual. He made his way to the couch, his movements unsteady and deliberate, before collapsing into the familiar embrace of worn-out cushions. Once settled in, he stared blankly at the wall, his mind drifting off to a place he wasn’t particularly fond of.
It was nights like these where he thought of his girlfriend- or, rather, ex girlfriend.
He remembered when he’d heard the news. A while ago he was sitting in the break room, trying to tune out the drivel coming from the TV. Alan was watching the news, and Charlie’s attention was focused on the youtube video he was watching. As the broadcast shifted from updates on the war to local news, Alan became uninterested and handed the remote to Charlie before going to do whatever the fuck he did.
Charlie had broken up with Zoey roughly a month prior, their split up was amicable and uneventful, just like their relationship was. It was still a surprise to see her face on the screen next to the news reporter. The moving text at the bottom read something along the lines of “LOCAL WOMAN CRUSHED BY BULLDOZER. FAMILY SUING.”
He quickly switched channels and put a show on at Glep’s request. Pim had his back turned to the TV, Glep was on his phone, and Alan was doing… whatever Alan does. No one had seen the news flash, and Charlie was weirdly thankful for that.
A weird feeling followed him throughout that day, and stuck with him for a long while before eventually fading. It was a mix between melancholy and sadness, but he focused his energy on whatever video game he’d been playing that month rather than feeling sorry for himself.
After a day of contemplation, he texted both of her parents a message with his condolences. Neither of them answered- and Charlie knew why. They didn’t really like him all too much. Still, it would have been nice to be invited to the funeral. Even though he wasn’t sure if he’d go or not.
The months that followed had been spent single, and it didn’t really bug him all too much. It wasn't that he actively sought a relationship—Charlie prided himself on his independence- but tonight, the silence felt heavier than usual.
He shook his head, dismissing the fleeting thought with an aloof chuckle. Emotions were messy, and Charlie preferred his life simple, even if it meant enduring these lonely evenings. Evenings were he fell asleep on his couch, drunk and alone.
Yeah. This is exactly how he wanted to live his life.
—
Charlie woke up in his bed, his phone chirping annoyingly beside him. He rolled over and hit snooze, adjusting his pillow before trying to fall back asleep. Wait, his couch didn’t have pillows like this. Or a blanket.
Charlie sat up and looked around. Weird. He could have sworn he fell asleep on the couch last night. Whatever, he probably was just too drunk to remember getting into bed. It wouldn’t be the first time it happened.
Once his alarm went off again, he got up and started his morning routine. He would do his morning scroll through Reddit, shower, try to find some clean clothes, and grab a red bull from the fridge—there’s two? He could have sworn there was only one left. Whatever. As he walked to work, he didn’t spend much time dwelling on it.
“Good morn-a-roonie, everybody!”
That must be Pim’s new greeting of the week, Charlie thought to himself.
“Good morning, boys!” Mr. Boss greeted as he waved a letter with a wax seal around. He passed it to Pim. Charlie watched as The Boss handed the letter to Pim. It had a wax seal, and Pim picked it off carefully. “The two of you have quite the job today! A fancy pants dance is going on, and one of the bartenders is stressed! The two of you should go and cheer her up!”
Pim handed the note to Charlie and looked at the boss excitedly. “Ooh, a fancy dance? Like for socialites and stuff?”
Charlie’s head began to hurt, and he rubbed his eyes. Maybe all of the drinking he did last night was giving him some kind of existential crisis. Or maybe he was dreaming. Either way, Charlie felt like he’d been here before.
“I coulda sworn we did this yesterday,” Charlie said, muttering to no one in particular. “Glep, back me up here- we had that yesterday, right?” Charlie asked, looking at Glep.
The green critter was sitting in his beanbag chair, hunched over a nearly empty cup of coffee. He was using Alan’s mug! Looking over at Alan, he noticed he was organizing the cups again- didn’t he do that yesterday?
“Ablahaheshsbmesh,” Glep said just as The Big Bang Theory theme song blasted from his phone.
“Maybe you’re just having some deja vu,” Pim suggested, pulling himself into the chair. “I get like that sometimes.”
“Don’t let your mind get in the way of making people smile!” The Boss winked, and crawled down the hallway on all fours.
“That was unsanitary.” Alan grumbled, eying the dirty hallway floor. “I should mop that a-gain.”
Charlie could feel his heart beating in his chest, and he wondered if his pacemaker was breaking. Swallowing, he turned to Pim and rubbed his face, trying to calm himself back down. He was right, this was just a serious case of deja vu. Nothing more, nothing less.
“Uh, I need a new suit. We should probably swing by Handsome Lads.” Charlie said, and Pim’s face brightened at the idea.
“Alrighty, then! Let our fancy quest begin!” He said, and sprinted to the car
On the car ride to the store, Charlie started skimming the letter Pim had opened. It had the same hard-to-read calligraphy and exact wording as before.
As Charlie tried to grapple with the absurdity of the situation, ‘Mr. Blue Sky’ started to play on the radio. Pim turned it up, and began to tap on the steering wheel as the song picked up.
“Oh, listen! It’s my favorite song!” Pim said, and smiled at the windshield. A bird pooped on the car in front of them. “That means today is going to be a good day!”
“I seriously think they played this song yesterday,” Charlie said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“What? Like… on the way to Miss Terious’ house?” Pim asked, pulling to a stop at a red light. The car behind them honked. “Are you… alright? You seem a little jittery.”
Charlie nodded, taking off his hat to quickly run a hand through his hair. “Yeah man, all good. I’m just in a weird mood, that’s all. Deja vu and junk.”
Once they got to Handsome Lads, Pim recommended the same exact suit as before. Once he changed and opened the changing room curtain, Pim did that same double-take thing. Charlie didn’t interrupt his ogling, he was too busy trying to replay the situation from yesterday in his mind.
“Sorry!” Pim said, realizing he had been staring. “I’m just not used to seeing you in something that isn’t… orange. Not that it’s a bad thing- you just look different! But it’s different good! Not like a bad kind of different…” His voice trailed off, and he seemed to melt under Charlie’s gaze.
Eventually, Pim stood up and clapped his hands suddenly. “I’ll be waiting by the cashier for you!” He said and hurriedly ran towards the front.
Okay- he had to pull himself together. His weird vibes were rubbing off on Pim, which only served to make his day even weirder. He just had to chill out at least until they got to the open bar at the venue.
So, Charlie was normal for the rest of the day. He didn’t freak out when Pim mentioned something about werewolves. He was so nonchalant about how they got to the venue at the same time as they did yesterday. And he was even more unimpressed when the DJ at the venue only played Frank Sinatra and Jimmy Buffet songs.
To say he slammed his first glass of wine would be an understatement. The speed at which he drained his first bottle would probably have gotten him a world record if one of those world record people were timing him. His second bottle wasn’t as good as his personal best- but still, a good time that would probably land him pretty high up on the leaderboard of alcoholism if something like that existed.
When the music faded into obscurity, and the walls began to spin around him slowly, he finally allowed himself to breathe. At least he could breathe until Pim touched his arm again.
“I’m fine,” Charlie answered quickly, snatching his arm away from the pink critter. Pim blinked at him and frowned slightly.
Charlie didn’t know why, but that sad look on Pim’s face made him want to throw up.
“Dude.” Charlie slurred, putting a hand on Pim’s shoulder. “You’re uh…doing those big ol’ sad eyes.”
“Maybe we should get going,” Pim said and caught the bartender's attention. Charlie wondered if Pim ever made her smile, but her more upbeat and happy demeanor seemed to result from Pim’s company. Pim tipped her, and they said their goodbyes. Pim helped Charlie into the Smiling Friends car.
“You wanna know somethin’ dude?” Charlie asked, looking out the window. His stomach felt heavy. Swallowing back the taste of bile in his throat, he looked over at Pim. “I seriously… I’m having some deja vu, man.”
“Just… make sure you don’t throw up. I can roll the window down, if you want?” Pim asked. Charlie huffed a laugh.
“You didn’t say that yesterday!” Charlie chuckled to himself and reclined the passenger side chair back. And in a matter of seconds, he was passed out.
-
Charlie woke up in his bed, his phone chirping annoyingly beside him. He rolled over and hit snooze and then immediately sat up straight. Either he was hallucinating, or Pim had somehow managed to carry him to his bed after he fell asleep in the car. The hallucination theory was more likely.
He reached for his phone and shut the alarm off. It was Wednesday- wasn’t yesterday Wednesday?
Panic sets in as he frantically tries to convince himself that this is all just a dream. He rushes to change his alarm, his fingers fumbling over the buttons. With trembling hands, he sets his phone down and desperately rolls over, closing his eyes tightly in an attempt to fall back asleep. The fear of being stuck in this twisted reality consumes him as he prays to wake up for real this time.
-
Charlie woke up in his bed, his phone chirping annoyingly beside him. Shit. Okay, maybe he’d just not changed it properly- that’s fine. He'd be fine if it weren’t 7:30 am Wednesday morning. So, Charlie reached for his phone.
7:30 AM. Wednesday.
Fuck. Holy fucking shit.
The thought of giving up and giving into his vices crossed his mind, he could really use a distraction right about now. He imagined sinking into the familiar couch cushions, surrounded by empty pizza boxes and game controllers, as a distraction from the harsh reality of his situation. But deep down, he knew it was just a temporary fix that would only prolong the inevitable.
If he really, really, wanted to get to Thursday, he would have to start changing things until something stuck.