Matty's Branch Office

Mads, my Norwegian companion, and I, went to England last weekend to take in some soccer games. We'd had enough of Boston, and just needed some time off. Walking around Sunderland after catching a game at The Stadium of Light, we heard a familiar sound from a long time past. Maybe not even from a long time past, but rather a time we never knew, but only heard about.

"Machine gunner." This was followed by a long fart noise. It was Butt-head from Beavis and Butt-head, and it was playing on a TV in a first floor office near by. We checked it out.

"Hello, my name is Mads."

"What a coincidence," my Mads said. "Mine is too."

The clerk seemed none too impressed. We looked around. There was a Bad Taste poster, a wax model of a dog being shot in the air by a renegade mattress spring, and Pulp Fiction quotes written with a label maker littered everywhere. I picked up a movie. It was titled Deep Cheeks 6. The clerk noticed that.

"We just got that in the other day. Pretty funny. Didn't take long for all my friends to start saying Deep Cheeks about everything."

I looked at Mads, and I think he understood. I cleaned off a seat in front of the desk that was covered in Hunter S. Thompson novels.

"Do you know a man from Maine named Matty?"

"Sure, he's the head office."

"Head office?"

"Yeah. I'm just his Western European branch. I get things when they've outlived their usefulness. Who are you?"

"Um... well, Matty's my personal biographer."

"No shit? Well, it'll only be a matter of time before you show up here too."