How to Be a Normal Person

by TJ Klune

  Gus tried not to think of the six or seven things wrong with that sentence.

  “This is pretty gnarly,” Josiah said, looking around the Emporium. “I can’t remember the last time I was in a place like this. Probably Hollywood Video in March of 2006.”

  “Yeah,” Gus said. “So gnarly. And that was pretty specific for not being able to remember the last time you were in a video store.”

  “Right,” Josiah said. “I only remember that because I had just turned sixteen, gotten a fake ID that said I was eighteen, and was going to try and rent Wild Things so I could see Kevin Bacon’s penis and Matt Dillon in a threesome.”

  Because of course he did. “And how did that work out for you?”

  “Not too well, dude. The video clerk didn’t believe my ID at all. It was probably my fault, though. The guy in the picture looked nothing like me.”

  “Different hair color?”

  “Nah,” Josiah said. “He was black.”

  Gus fought the urge to put his face in his hands.

  “Yeah,” Josiah sighed. “Didn’t really think that one through. The guy asked if I was joking, and I told him I’d just gotten really tan when the picture was taken. I felt bad right away because I didn’t know if that was racist. So I begged him not to call my mom and then ran out of Hollywood Video. For the next three weeks, I was convinced the police were going to come to my house and arrest me for trying to see Kevin Bacon’s penis. S’cool. No big deal. I saw it, like, six months later.”

  “Kevin Bacon’s penis?” Gus asked.

  “The movie,” Josiah said. “But yes, Kevin Bacon’s penis.”

  “Worth it?”

  Josiah shrugged. “I suppose. I figured out if I needed to see a penis, I could just stare at my own junk, you know?”

  “How remarkably astute,” Gus said.

  Josiah squinted at him. “You talk like Casey plays Scrabble. That’s, like, fate. You know? You two are meant to be.”

  Gus didn’t quite know what to say to that, so he sputtered slightly.

  “I can see why he likes you,” Josiah said, sounding amused.

  “You can?”

  “Sure,” Josiah said. “If I’d met you first, I probably would have tried to woo you into being my friend. And then, after we’d been friends for a while, I would have probably tried to bed you.”

  “That’s… nice.”

  “Yeah, but now I don’t have to because we’re friends already. And I won’t have sex with you because you’re with Casey.”

  “We’re friends?” Gus didn’t quite know how he felt about having a friend he didn’t know he had. He wondered if Josiah had guerilla-friended all the people he knew.

  “Yeah,” Josiah said. “Awesome, right? Casey told me that your dad used to smoke weed.” He didn’t say it with a question behind it, just merely stating fact.

  And maybe that’s why Gus said, “Yeah.”

  “Cool, man. I wish my parents were that laid-back. They think I’m a slacker because I smoke. And because I’m a waiter. It’s cool, though, you know? One day, I’ll get my big break. I have an audition next week for some commercial. They wanted to know if I was okay with full frontal nudity and I said I’ve got nothing to hide. If Kevin Bacon can do it, then so can I. That’s, like, my motto. For life and shit.”

  “Full frontal?” Gus asked. “Are you making the commercial in Japan? Because that seems like something that happens in Japan.”

  Josiah scrunched up his face. “No. At least they didn’t say it was in Japan. I hope not. I only asked for one day off. I think it’s for soup. Like chunky chicken or something. You want to hear my lines? I’ve memorized them already.”

  Nothing on this earth could ever make Gus say no to that. He said, “Yes, please.”

  “Okay, so, like, you’re my little brother, okay? And we’ve just gotten in from playing football.”

  “Uh. I don’t know the lines?”

  “Just wing it,” Josiah said with a shrug. “That’s usually what I do.”

  “I thought you said you already know your lines.”

  “I do! Mostly.”

  “This is so realistic already,” Gus said as Josiah shook his shoulders and rocked his head from side to side, like he was stretching before he started to act. Like an actor.

  “Are you ready?” Josiah asked.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready in my life,” Gus said honestly.

  “Cool. Okay. So. Scene.” He grinned over at Gus. When he spoke again, his voice was chipper and so fucking fake that Gus almost choked. “Hey, little bro! That was a great game of catch. Your arm is getting stronger.” He looked at Gus expectantly.

  Gus regretted all his life’s choices when he said, “Oh. Um. Right. Uh. Okay, I’ve got this.” He coughed and cleared his throat. “Yeah, big bro. Tossing that ol’ pigskin sure made my afternoon.”

  “It’s hard being away at college,” Josiah said, reaching out and squeezing Gus’s shoulder. “I may be learning about financial ergonomics, but I’d rather be learning to be the best big brother possible.”

  “Oh my god,” Gus said. “What the hell. It’s economics. Not ergonomics.”

  “What?” Josiah said.

  “You said ergonomics. You meant economics.”

  “Huh. You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh. What’s ergonomics, then?”

  “Like, sitting in a chair correctly.”

  “Oh. Huh. Okay. Cool. Thanks. Back in character. Don’t try to break anymore. Okay. Scene.” He took a deep breath and smiled that wide, fake smile again. Gus could almost count all of his teeth. “But I’d rather be learning to be the best big brother possible.”

  “Yeah,” Gus said, unsure of where this was going. “Me too. Bros for life. Um. Bros before hoes.”

  “For true,” Josiah said. “Are you hungry?”

  “Yeah. I could eat.”

  “Well, that’s good, because I saw that Mom had some Campbell’s Chunky Classic Chicken Noodle Soup in the pantry, made with real chicken.”

  “Oh,” Gus said. “That’s convenient. With real chicken? Does the other kind have fake chicken? That doesn’t seem too healthy. Fake chicken.”

  Josiah’s smile faltered briefly. “Uh. Yeah. Those other brands are all fake. With their chicken.”

  “Cool,” Gus said. “I’m sure glad Mom didn’t buy the fake kind. Lord knows what Dad would have said if he’d come home to fake chicken. He probably would have made me go into the broom closet again.”

  “He makes you do that?” Josiah said, frowning. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  Gus shrugged. “I wanted you to be happy at college learning about financial economics. Not stuck in this house of horrors.”

  “Little bro,” Josiah said, reaching out to grip Gus’s arm. “You know I would never leave you behind.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Gus admitted. “You were never here. You didn’t come back on breaks. You didn’t even really call.”

  Josiah took a step back. “I’m sorry. I thought….” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I thought. It doesn’t matter now. I’m here. Okay? I won’t let him hurt you.”

  “He’ll kill you,” Gus said. “If you try and stop him. You know he will. His fury is unending and nothing will stop him in this house of pain.”

  Josiah looked at him, jaw clenched. “Maybe….”

  “Maybe?” Gus asked.

  “Maybe we should kill him first, then.”

  “Big bro! But… you can’t. We can’t!”

  “No, little bro. He won’t be able to touch you anymore. If it means you’ll be safe, then I say we take him out. He won’t know what hit him if we put our minds together.”

  “Yeah,” Gus said sadly. “Okay. If we have to.”

  Josiah smiled. “But not before we enjoy a delicious lunch of Campbell’s Chunky Chicken Soup, now with less sodium!”

  “Great,” Gus said. “Because everyone should watch their sodium intake
. And their murder.”

  “And scene,” Josiah said. He blinked once. Twice. Then breathed, “Whoa. Gus. That. Was. Amazing.”

  Gus wasn’t quite sure what just happened or how he came to be involved. So he said, “Yes. I know.”

  “How are you not an actor?”

  “I never felt the calling,” Gus said. “Unlike you.”

  Josiah stared at him in awe. “You have to move to LA and audition for everything!”

  “That sounds terrible. No thank you.”

  “But the world needs it! You could be one of the movies you rent here! Like… like… is that a Sharknado display?”

  God, he hated that fucking display.

  “You could be in the next Sharknado!” Josiah said, sounding slightly hysterical. “Or work with Martin Scorsese!”

  “That’s… quite a range,” Gus said.

  “The world needs you!”

  “And yet,” Gus said, “I shall remain here.”

  “No, Gus,” Josiah said. “You can’t. You just can’t.”

  “With my movies. And my dreams. And scene.”

  Josiah’s eyes went wide. “You were in a scene. The whole time?”

  “A scene within a scene,” Gus agreed. “I was the Inception of scenes.”

  Josiah looked like he was about to explode.

  Gus was rather proud of himself, even if he’d just lost a few normal points. He wondered if he should pitch the idea of Monkey Island Adventures.

  And that’s the story of how a grumpy video store clerk named Gustavo Tiberius gained a lifelong fan of the man who once played Cadaver Number Three in Criminal Bad Guys: Topeka, Kansas, which was the point of this entire story all along.

  Therefore, this is the end.

  JUST KIDDING.

  There’s still more.

  GUS UNDERSTOOD what they were doing. The Three Ironic Amigos. They were testing him, one by one, one on one. They’d threatened him (well, Xander had). They’d questioned him (Xander, mostly). They’d judged him worthy (Xander more begrudgingly than the others).

  So Gus was not surprised when, after lunch, Xander chose to stay rather than follow Casey and the others out the door. Casey looked like he was going to object, but Gus squeezed his hand briefly, trying to relay that it was okay.

  Well, it wasn’t, but Gus didn’t think that mattered.

  And maybe Xander would prove to be more like Serge and Josiah and they would hang out and do ridiculous things like obscene yoga poses or patricide soup commercials. Gus could hope.

  The We Three Queens followed Casey, Serge, and Josiah out the door, with Bernice muttering something about how she was almost ready in her plans to kidnap Casey and make him write stories just for her. Gus thought maybe he should look into that at some point, but figured Casey was a grown-up and could handle Bernice and her crazy at least for a little while longer.

  Harry S. Truman chittered happily up at Gus as he ran along the counter, alternating between gnawing on Gus’s finger and spinning in circles near his cage.

  The door closed, leaving them alone in the store.

  Gus (once perfectly comfortable in sitting in absolute silence, what the hell) said, “And then there were two.”

  Xander had the great talent in which he could hear something funny and only look vaguely amused. Gus was almost envious.

  Gus thought that maybe, if he was lucky, Xander would end up being like the Tea Party in that if you ignored it, it would hopefully go away to that place where all obnoxious things should disappear to.

  Unfortunately for Gus, Xander did not disappear, and did not let the silence last long. He said, “I don’t know how you’ve done it.”

  Gus, ever the conversationalist, grunted in response.

  Xander took that as permission to continue and not the hex that Gus had attempted it to be on Xander’s vocal chords. “They like you,” he said. “All of them. Josiah, Serge. Casey. For some reason, they’re charmed by you.”

  “I’m charming,” Gus said. And then winced. “Okay, that was probably a lie. I’m not very charming.”

  “And yet….”

  Gus shrugged. “Serge and Josiah were pretty stoned when they met me. And Casey is pretty stoned most of the time, so.”

  “I’m not stoned right now,” Xander said.

  “Congrats,” Gus said before he could stop himself. “Look, are you going to posture some more, or what?”

  Xander didn’t look amused. “Posture?”

  Gus rolled his eyes, suddenly tired of his bullshit. “You know. You’re doing the whole best-friend-ex-boyfriend-intimidation-dance-of-doom thing. It was slightly impressive at first. Now it’s kind of annoying.”

  “Really,” Xander said, taking a step toward Gus, fists curling at his sides. “Annoying.”

  “Yeah,” Gus said. “You know, you’re kind of an angry stoner. I’ve never met an angry stoner before.”

  “I’m not angry,” Xander said.

  “Oh. So you normally grit your teeth and snarl? That must get tiring after a while. And also puts pressure on your teeth. That could create future problems requiring an orthodontist.”

  “You think you’re funny,” Xander said, eyes flashing.

  “Uh. No. I really don’t. Droll, maybe. But not outright funny. It’s my eyebrows. They’re too thick for me to ever be able to pull off humor.”

  “Don’t you—”

  “What?” Gus snapped. “Don’t I what? Request that you treat me like a person and not something you stepped in? Request that you at least try and act happy for your friend? Demand that you show some ounce of respect when you are in my business? Tell me, Xander. Don’t. I. What.”

  “Dude,” Xander breathed. “That was hard-core.”

  “Yes,” Gus said. “Well. I am pretty hard-core.”

  “And I’m not trying to intimidate you.”

  “Good,” Gus said. “Because you’re not. I’ve had to face the We Three Queens when I pissed them off. You’re nothing compared to that.”

  Xander shuddered as if imagining the wrath of three elderly bikers (on Vespas) who wear matching pink coats.

  And just to be safe, Gus added, “Also, Harry S. Truman would attack you. He has sharp teeth and has been trained to go for your eyes first.” That was a lie. Harry S. Truman had semisharp teeth and been trained to go for the testicles first, but Gus figured that would be a surprise for Xander in case this got out of hand.

  But Xander deflated before Gus could give the command to Harry S. Truman (“Dewey defeats Truman!”). It was rather a remarkable thing to witness. One moment he was all hard lines and scowls, and the next his shoulders had dropped and he had a reluctant smile on his face. “Dammit,” he grumbled. “I’ve been charmed.”

  “Really?” Gus said, sounding incredulous. “I threaten you with my ferret attacking your eyes and you’re charmed? Wow. That speaks volumes about the kind of person you are.”

  “Feeling slightly less charmed,” Xander said in warning.

  “Can’t have that,” Gus said. “Not now that you think I’m charming. I’m seeing someone, though, so if you could keep your flirting to a minimum, I’d appreciate it.”

  Xander snorted. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that. You’re not really my type.”

  “Awesome, you mean?” Gus asked.

  “That’s not the word I would have used,” Xander said.

  “You think I’m awesome,” Gus decided.

  “That must be it.”

  “Well, this has been fun,” Gus said, staring pointedly at the door to the Emporium.

  “Kicking me out?”

  “I have a business to run.”

  “Yeah, real busy in here. I think I’ll stick around for a while.”

  “Great,” Gus said. “I’m super thrilled at that.”

  “You sound like it.”

  “Sometimes I think I like you,” Gus said. “And then you talk or breathe or exist and I’m not so sure.”

  Xander laughed. “Mutu
al, man. That whole feeling.”

  “I like your tattoos,” Gus said, trying a different tack.

  “Do you?”

  Gus shrugged.

  “Thanks,” Xander said. “Do you have any?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Haven’t found anything worth permanently marking my skin for. Also, I can never not think about how I’d regret it when I’m ninety.”

  “That’s fair,” Xander said. “It’s not a decision to be made lightly. Do you like it here?”

  “Yeah, of course. It’s my home. Do you like California?’

  “Most of the time. It’s loud and brash and caustic. Like me, I guess. Do you love him?”

  “Maybe,” Gus said. “I think sometimes I do and—” He paled as the words died in his throat. That was something that he never expected to say out loud to anyone, something he hadn’t even really allowed himself to think. He’d known Casey for a couple of months, had had his world turned upside down by him almost immediately. Gus had never been in love before, so he didn’t quite know what it felt like. If it was a feeling that was overwhelming and caused his chest to hurt sometimes, then yeah, maybe. If it was that smile that stretched across his face when he saw Casey walking toward the Emporium, then yeah, sure. If it was the way Casey asked for a kiss while spelling out the request in tiny wooden tiles, then most definitely.

  “You did that on purpose,” Gus said with a scowl.

  Xander didn’t look repentant in the slightest. “You have to admit, it was fun, though.”

  “I don’t think you and I have the same definition of fun.”

  “Eh. Close enough. I had fun with it. It’s good, though. You know? Love and shit.”

  “Love and shit,” Gus repeated.

  Xander shrugged. “Love and shit.”

  Gus thought maybe it was good. But it was so monumentally over his head that he couldn’t quite grasp the concept. He narrowed his eyes at Xander. “You don’t say a word of this. To anyone.”

  Xander grinned. “Or what?”

  “Or I’ll get on Casey’s social media pages and post that you drink Starbucks and listen to Imagine Dragons. And I’ll tag you in the post.”