Popular short fiction writer Lavie Tidhar gathers some of his best work in one collection. Stories that are infused with centuries of tradition and painted with Hebrew mythology. Special intro by Laura Anne Gilman.
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Short Fiction: Abe and Arnie
Arnie’s day began just like any other.
He woke up, hit the snooze button for a second time, farted, burped and threw open the flannel sheets that covered his bed.
It all felt the same to Arnie. He stretched, yawned and patted his rotund belly, which was then followed by a series of scratches beginning at the stomach and moving to various other just as furry places.
Arnie shuffled into the bathroom to relieve the pressure in his lower abdomen. He flipped on the wall switch and squinted at the sudden rush of light that assaulted his eyes. He hobbled over to the porcelain throne mumbling something about hoping the Bears had won that game in overtime last night.
Arnie threw his head back; releasing an, “Ahhhhhhhh…” as the urine dove into the toilet with wanton abandon. He was still too tired to care that a few drops splashed onto his foot. “I’m taking a shower anyway”, he thought to himself.
It was then that Arnie noticed something wasn’t as well as he’d thought. As much as he was enjoying the evacuation of his bladder, he felt movement on his forehead as if the hair had managed to move on its own.
Arnie bent slightly forward, extending his right leg backwards and flushed the toilet. He turned to the mirror to determine if he really needed to shave today or not. It was then that he made his discovery.
It was on his forehead. A visage on his own, only slightly smaller and moving back and forth as if it were trying to stretch and birth its way out of his cranium.
It was Abe Vigoda.
Abe Vigoda’s head was growing out of Arnie’s forehead. Strangely enough, it wasn’t shock that Arnie felt. It was more a feeling of distant inevitability. You see, for as long as Arnie could remember Abe Vigoda was his old standby.
Perhaps it was all the “Barney Miller” growing up.
You see, whenever there was a joke to be made, Arnie made it and it usually ended with him saying the words, “Abe Vigoda.” Every sarcastic, idiotic and smart-ass remark Arnie made, it was usually about Abe Vigoda.
During Trivial Pursuit:
“Who invented the Cotton Gin?”
“Abe Vigoda.”
On tests in college when Arnie had no answer:
“Name the first film to integrate sound into the picture itself?”
“Abe Vigoda and the After Dinner Ninjas.”
During hypothetical conversations:
“If you were stranded on a desert island with one person, who would it be?”
“Fish from ‘Barney Miller’.”
So Arnie stared at the miniscule Abe Vigoda protruding from his forehead slightly above the right eye and the tiny Abe stared back. Arnie dare not say anything because I mean, what do you say to Abe Vigoda growing out of your forehead? Small talk takes on a whole new meaning here.
Arnie also dare not touch the diminished Abe because what if he bit him on the finger? That surely wouldn’t do. Arnie would lose all respect for the man who had been his go-to guy when it came to quirky anecdotes.
So Arnie stared at Abe. Abe stared at Arnie. They both nodded and smirked; Arnie in acknowledgment of his growths victory and Abe in his comfort that he had beaten Artie at his own game.
Artie laughed. Of all the people to have growing on your forehead, I have…Abe Vigoda.
