Frankfurt Blair

Blood is everywhere. The garage is covered in it: the red, oozing liquid caressing its way through every fault in the floor and under every crevice. Four college-aged men dressed in all black are splattered in red. Two of the men are sitting against walls holding their heads in their hands, while the other two are pacing back and forth across the red stained garage in full blown rage.

“What the fuck happened?”

“Sir –“

“Shut the fuck up! There is no way to cover this!”

“Sir, we can fix this, we can – “

“I swear to God if you don’t shut up your skull is going through the fucking floor.”

Silence fills the room for what seems like forever. The only thing you can hear is sewer pipes leaking and rats gnawing their way through cords and wires.

“Fine, if one of you idiotic cocksuckers has a bright idea, indulge me.”

“We could… we could… perhaps… maybe we could… frame somebody.”

“Wow, that’s groundbreaking. Nobody in the history of mankind has every framed anybody. You deserve a fucking gold medal. Better yet, give me a high five.”

The sarcasm isn’t subtle in the least, and once again the room goes silent for another minute.

“You, in the corner, you haven’t said a damn word.”

“My apologies sir.”

“Don’t apologize! That is the weakest thing a man can do. You’re a part of this reckless mess. What do you presume we do about it?”  

There’s a long pause while considerable thought is being given to the question, but patience is brewing.

“I said what do you presume we do about it?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing… we do nothing, and if anybody questions our authority, we kill them.”

The leader looks slightly impressed, and gives a small, short glimpse of a smile.

“Kill anyone who questions our authority… that’s ridiculously cruel… man in the corner, what is your name?”

“Frankfurt, Frankfurt Blair.”

 

Frankfurt Blair, by those who knew him well, was thought of as some sort of a genius – and a complete psychotic nut job by those who knew of him. He had the logic of Einstein in that he understood the meaning of life, but he didn’t understand the purpose of putting on pants before leaving the house. He could spend all day studying philosophical and psychological conundrums, but could never find the time to brush his hair or take a five minute shower. He had never been on a date in his life, but he could easily observe a group of women and write a book on the inner workings of the female mind. I suppose in some sense his intelligence was purely theoretical, but in time he would have the means to apply it.

Frankfurt Blair spent most of his time in the library. It wasn’t that he particularly enjoyed reading, but his primary goal in life was to acquire as much knowledge as he could possibly possess. In order to do that, he needed to study every subject and study the writings of every great mind to ever walk the face of this earth. He purely stuck with nonfiction. The mere idea of reading for pleasure boggled his mind. It would be like spending the day watching Nickelodeon, as opposed to watching the History Channel or Animal Planet. It may be deemed enjoyable by some, but when the show is over you’re no more a better person than you were before. In fact, you may be worse off. The whole thing may have left you dimwitted, and there’s nothing endearing about that.

Frankfurt lived in a dormitory with his best friend Aaron. Aaron was a computer science major who knew all too well the lonely, dateless existence that had befallen every guy who decided to be anything more than mediocre, intellectually of course. He was fully aware of the painfully obvious facts of the female species. Women want men who are good with money, good with power tools, good with cars, good in bed – women are just as physical and visual as men, if not more so. If anything, men and women might truly be the reverse of all alleged claims. Men are said to be physical creatures by nature, and they are, but it seems that having a ‘hot babe’ just isn’t enough anymore. Men now want a woman who is smart, confident, and independent – one who can think for herself. On the other hand, women are supposedly more emotional and thoughtful creatures. But if you dress a sexy guy like a firefighter, most women won’t care if he’s a soulless bastard who can’t name the letters in the alphabet. If he’s sexy and can fight fires, that’s enough for them.  

These realizations were not news to Frankfurt or Aaron. In elementary school when children would hold hands and call each other boyfriend or girlfriend, Frankfurt and Aaron would build Lego rocket ships and discuss aerodynamics. In middle school, when hormones and sexual curiosity started to peak, they did what any lonely boy their age would do and used their right hand. Then upon striking out repeatedly in high school, they eventually gave up, and as opposed to becoming an addict of drugs their addiction of choice became porn. For Frankfurt, it was preferable. He thought most women in the real world were a waste of his valuable time. But for Aaron, it acted as a microwave, getting the job done quickly and efficiently, but still leaving parts of his chicken pot pie partially frozen. However, if he cooked it in the oven, it would take thirty minutes instead of five, but nothing would taste as sweet as that home cooked chicken pot pie steaming hot on the countertop, fresh out of the oven.

Because of this, Aaron found that his primarily goal in life, unlike Frankfurt’s desire to acquire knowledge, was to mate. He wanted a woman to embrace in his arms while she laid her head on his chest. He wanted to see the dim glow of her body reflecting in the moonlight through his window. He wanted to kiss the freckles on her neck and run his fingers through the tangles in her hair. And preferably, he’d like to do this for more than one night, and perhaps even with more than one woman.

Like many men, this yearning consumed his every thought. His obsession with the idea took a turn for the worst when he met a girl named Summer in his calculus class. One day the teacher had pulled her aside and explained that because of her low grades she might just fail the semester, so she approached Aaron and asked him to tutor her. He saw this as a clear opportunity to pursue his desires.

 

“She’s perfect,” Aaron said with a permanent smile. He was lying on his bed while Frankfurt was folding clothes out of the laundry basket and putting them in his dresser. Their dorm room was small; their bed’s were barely ten feet apart, creating just enough space to walk in between them. The school colors were the overly common blue and white, so that was the color of the beds, desks, and dressers. However, Frankfurt’s dresser was green. He had no school pride and he painted it green in an attempt to piss off the dorm adviser. But because Frankfurt and Aaron never partied, had women over, or played loud music, the dorm advisor had never stepped foot into their room.

“She’s just using you.” Frankfurt was not one to spare another’s feelings.

“You don’t understand. She could have asked anyone to tutor her, but she chose me.”

“You’re the smartest one in the class. You were the obvious choice.”

“She doesn’t know that, and its calculus. It’s not my best subject.”

“It’s a general education class, which means everyone has to take it. Half your class is full of stoners and the other half are freshman idiots.”

“There are a few smart people in there. Bill‘s in there. That guy wants to be a damn doctor. She could’ve asked him.”

“Bill wants to be a doctor? Since when? Didn’t that guy streak naked in the girl’s locker room last year?”

“Maybe. Oh, and you can’t forget about Jewels. She wants to be a teacher, a math teacher. She’ll be teaching math to kids, which means she’s probably a whiz with numbers.”

“Alright, alright, so maybe there were other choices, but I still wouldn’t get your hopes up. I have yet to meet a woman who isn’t completely full of shit.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know your stance on that. Anyway, I have to meet her in the library in half an hour so I’m going to go shower.” Aaron hopped off the bed and opened his dresser to grab some clothes. His smile had not faded.

Frankfurt was now laughing hysterically.

“Wow, this girl’s got you showering? I’m actually frightened. She might be a succubus or something. Watch your back man, watch your back.”

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