Tottchell Zizzzard was the only person Nichelle knew who had never coughed up so much as an ice cube's worth of tangible hubris. In addition, his last name contained an unprecedented four "Zs", including a linguistically unique three in a row. Nichelle suspected him of harboring a secret crush on her, but Tott lacked both confidence and verbal agility. Tott lived paradoxically, often coming across as a simpleton, yet capable of great insights, loyal and willing to do anything for a friend, but utterly flaky and unreliable. He also did not drive well, so Nichelle hoped she could talk him into letting her drive the forty year old gasoline-vanquishing Buick Electra 225 he used to get to work. When he was working.
Nichelle trudged from Jim and Elmer's medium rise apartment to the trailer park where Tott lived, stepping over blobs of hubris and winding around derelict cars. The brisk walk took her about ten minutes; on the way, she ran into a crack dealer she thought she recognized but the two did not exchange pleasantries.
After his mother died and his father moved into a nursing home, Tott took possession of the filthiest, most unsanitary domicile in the history of humankind. Nichelle had observed neither improvement nor regression since Tott's sole occupancy of the place, which she still approached with revulsion. A few years earlier, one of trailer's many residents--a drifter, a hanger-on, one of Tott's sisters' boyfriends--experienced a problem with the microwave oven and pulled it away from the wall to investigate. Nichelle and Elmer looked on in horror as they caught sight of the microwave's back panel, which was covered entirely in milling cockroaches.
As she walked up the wobbly steps of the wooden porch and approached the front door, Nichelle noticed a very small black catfish in the grass below. It wriggled and flopped, as fish out of water tend to do. Then it stood erect, to the extent an animal with a weak backbone can. Nichelle blinked. It could not be. But it was. Now the catfish was on the move, covering ground at a surprisingly rapid clip. She watched as it reached the edge of the trailer and turned out of sight. She then knocked on the door.
"You won't believe what I just saw," she breathed.
"Catfish?"
"How'd you know?"
"It got out of the tank this morning. I figured the merciful thing to do was just let it go. Mom and Dad never fed it anyway."
Tott neglected to mention he had never fed it either. But to be fair, he had not bought the fish in the first place.
He motioned for Nichelle to enter and she did so, gingerly as always. On the counter separating the kitchen from the living room sat a small fish tank half full of water thick and black enough to be discarded motor oil. She shuddered at first, then felt a surge of pleasure for the escaped fish.
"Tott, I need to get to Goofy Ridge, Illinois. Can you take me?"
"Sure," he replied, his mouth full of cereal which he shoveled hastily from a grimy bowl, "You want to go tomorrow?"
"No, today. Right now, if possible."
She expected to have to cajole and persuade, perhaps even flirt, but Tott's resistance proved feeble.
"I'm kinda tired," he said. "I went to a movie last night."
"It's three o'clock in the afternoon," Nichelle said.
"Yeah," said Tott, who failed to understand why Nichelle mentioned the time.
"Well, I can drive if you're tired. I just don't want to go all by myself."
Tott nodded, understanding.
"Give me a minute," he said, "and I'll get ready."
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