Stan pushed away from his desk and frowned at the crumpled sheets of paper that littered its top. Walking to the corner of his room, he picked up the small garbage can. As he scooped the mangled bits of paper into the metal can, he felt as though a weight had lifted from his soul.
Setting the garbage back in its corner, he opened the door.
“Finally, he comes out of hibernation,” Gene didn’t take his eyes from his videogame as he spoke.
Stan closed his door and crossed to the black leather couch, “I’ve only been in there a few days.”
“A few days? Try a week,” Gene laughed.
“It hasn’t been that long,” Stan rolled his eyes.
Gene shrugged, “So, how did the soul searching go?”
“I found that I actually still have one,” Stan said dryly.
“Well, I guess Melissa didn’t take everything when she left after all.”
“I suppose she didn’t,” Stan focused his sunken brown eyes on the television screen.
“You did manage to find something besides your soul, you know,” Gene smirked.
“Did I?” Stan asked flatly.
Gene nodded, “Yeah, a very funky smell. Did you even bother to think about taking a shower before you decided to come out to assault my nose with your funk?” he lifted his shirt collar over his nose.
“Ha, ha, you’re so very funny.” Stan walked towards the small kitchen.
“At least wash your hands before you touch the food. I don’t want to throw it all out because you contaminated it.”
“You have an excellent way of cheering me up,” Stan’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Oh, it’s cheering up you need? I thought you said you found your soul, I didn’t realize it needed cheering up,” Gene turned the game off.
“Just because I’ve realized that I can’t go through life with Melissa as my only reason for living, doesn’t mean that I’m happy about it,” Stan said bitterly as he slapped a sandwich together.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Gene grinned mischievously as he crowded into the kitchen.
“I suppose your solution is a lot of alcohol and a few strippers?” Stan glanced up.
Gene frowned, “It was, but since that is apparently not what you had in mind, no.”
Stan bit into the sandwich as he leaned into the warped wooden cabinets. He chewed thoughtfully as he stared at the disappointed expression on his best friend’s face.
“What?” Gene crossed his arms and glared back.
“You know, Gene, my boy, you might just be right about this one,” Stan nodded.
Gene’s face lit up, “Then what are we waiting for?” he rubbed his hands together excitedly.
“I believe, for me to take a shower.”
Gene pushed him towards the bathroom, “Well, hurry up man. I need a lap dance.”
Stan finished his sandwich as he opened the bathroom door, “I need a drink.”