Daily Drama

"Joe?" I asked the muscular man after our handshake.

"Yeah, Joe Borck Kingman," my friend replied from the passenger seat with a broad smile, nodding to the rhythm of Elvis Presley's songs playing on his father's car speakers as we started moving down the street.

After releasing a quick and genuine laugh, probably due to my ignorance about his son's name, Brock's father, still focused on the road, said, "Joe has told me you're the best in his year, and judging by the last game, it's obvious you have talent for football. Your parents must be very proud."

"Yeah, they are," I said, trying not to sound boastful as I thanked the man for his kind words. "Brock is also a great player. Without him as Offensive Guards, I doubt we could have won," I continued, doing my best to compliment my friend in front of his imposing father.

My attempt seemed to work, as Mr. Kingman proudly placed his hand on Brock's shoulder, giving him a few pats. "Yes, he always wanted to play as a quarterback. It was his dream, but..." the man continued, suddenly falling silent at the end and staying still for a few seconds.

Snapping out of his trance, he withdrew his hand, gripping the steering wheel with both hands again. Brock, who until a few seconds ago was cheerfully moving to the music, turned his body to the right window, falling silent and looking outside the car thoughtfully.

The overall atmosphere inside the car changed completely. From the back seat, I could feel the discomfort of the sudden silence we had plunged into. I didn't know if the man cut off the incomplete sentence because I got the position or if there was another reason behind the apparent discomfort regarding the topic.

A few minutes later, with only the music still playing through the car speakers, Brock seemed to remember something. Quickly snapping out of his strange mood shift and turning, still seated in his chair, to face me, he asked suggestively, "So?"

Understanding my friend's silent question because I remembered the same look in Georgie and feeling relieved as the atmosphere inside the car had changed, I amusingly denied the need my friends had to know about my love life.

After telling Brock and his suddenly interested father a summary of my date with Regina, the three of us began talking about the game from the day before. We discussed the incredible plays from both teams throughout the match, specifically the actions of the quarterbacks from both teams, the best scores, and the riskiest blocks.

This was something I could add to my list of things I had missed in my past life – having conversations about common interests with friends was surprisingly liberating. Being part of discussions outside the medical field was entirely new to me. Of course, I had given my opinion a few times in discussions my friends had in this life, but nothing like such a personal conversation.

Before I knew it, we had arrived at a house with a large "For Sale" sign in front and an obviously covered car parked in front of the garage. "We're here," Mr. Kingman said as he parked his car on the curb in front of the house. "I still can't believe you don't want the car, Joe," he continued with a hint of disappointment in his voice as he opened the car door on his side and stepped out.

Following the man out of the car along with my friend, "I've told you, I'm more into big and spacious trucks," my friend said somewhat exasperatedly as he closed the passenger door.

"As you say. There's a beauty in muscle cars, and someday you'll see it," the man said as he walked towards the house.

"Then why don't you buy it for yourself?" my friend asked, gaining my interest in the answer as we followed his father to the porch of the house. It was true; if the man desired the car so much, why not offer to buy it from his brother?

"Of course, I want to," the man said, as if the idea of not wanting it offended him. "But your mother would kill me," he continued suddenly nervous. I couldn't imagine what kind of woman could intimidate such a mountain of a man. "Besides, today we're here to show it to PJ, and being optimistic, he might offer to buy it," the man continued, smiling in defeat after knocking on the door of the house.

A few seconds later, the door opened, revealing the comically opposite figure of Mr. Kingman, a small man not necessarily out of shape but not muscular either, with a goatee and large round glasses resting on his nose. "Rocky," the small man said cheerfully as he exited his house to embrace his enormous brother.

"Big brother," Mr. Kingman said, bending down to fraternally hug the smaller man, taking me by surprise and almost causing a loud laugh to escape my lips. "And who is this? You must be Junior," the small man continued after separating from Mr. Kingman, putting his hand on my friend's shoulder. "Hi, Uncle Kev," my friend said with a strange forced smile. "Joey," the small man continued cheerfully, trying to lightly tap the side of my friend's face since my friend was a few heads taller than him.

After greeting my friend, the small man quickly turned, losing his smile when he faced me.

With an obviously forced evaluative look, the man approached slowly until he was an arm's length away from me. "So..." he said as he looked me up and down, "do you drink?" he suddenly asked seriously. I quickly shook my head, causing the small man to nod slowly while taking another step, getting even closer to me. "That's good," he continued with a creepy little smile on his face.

The man comically opened his eyes, staring into mine, having to lift his face, contorting his neck to do so, since like everyone else, I was a few heads taller than the small man.

While the small man looked into my eyes, the other two people present did not speak or move. Following their example, I also remained silent, waiting for whatever the man was doing to end quickly.

A few seconds after staring into my eyes, the man nodded vigorously while extending his hand. "All right, you can have Debbie," the man said with a pleasant smile.

Releasing a sigh of air that I didn't know I was holding, I felt relieved as I extended my hand as well.

Before I could react, the small man, losing his smile and quickly, forcefully grabbed my hand, pulling my body down. "Listen well, Debbie is a princess, and as such, you have to treat her well. She's been around for many years, so you'll need to fix a couple of things – paint, tires, discs, and interiors. Unfortunately, I won't be able to take Debbie with me wherever I go, so you have to take care of her," the man said slowly and quietly, his face inches from my ear, in what I could imagine was a silent threat.

After what I could imagine was a silent threat, the man suddenly let go of my hand again, giving a big smile. "Well, let's go see her," he said as he walked to his car, followed by Mr. Kingman, who was strangely excited.

Looking at my friend, with whom I was left behind, I silently asked with my eyes what had happened, receiving an equally silent apology as we followed the adults.

"The engine is a 396 cubic inch V8 with 6.5 liters," the small man said as he caressed the car's lining. "It has a four-speed manual transmission, independent front suspension, and a solid rear axle," he continued, leaning his forehead against the car. "A top speed of 110 miles per hour, 0 to 60 in 6.1 seconds," he finished by kissing what would be the top of the passenger door.

After the man whispered something to the car that we couldn't distinguish, he turned with a proud look and what I could distinguish as a small tear in his eye. "What do you think, kid?" he asked with one hand still on the car.

I didn't know what to answer. Of everything the man said, I only understood the speed-related part. I had no idea about cars or their specifications, but seeing the seriousness of the man, I could only nod slowly. "A great car," I said, hopeful that it was a good response.

"A great car!?" the man shouted completely surprised, turning to his brother with disbelief. "A great car!" he repeated, pointing at me, sharing incredulous smiles with his brother.

"It's the best car!" he said, shouting, the small man raising his hands, supported by Mr. Kingman.

Taking the car's lining with both hands, the small man quickly pulled it off, revealing 'Debbie' – a black car.

Certainly, I could see why people might like it. It had an aerodynamic design and a 'tough' appearance with two white lines on the car hood as decoration, but beyond that, I didn't get it.

Exclaiming in surprise, Mr. Kingman approached the car along with his brother to get a better look. "So many memories," the man said, smiling at his brother. "Remember all the girls you had in this car, big bro?" Mr. Kingman asked proudly, lightly tapping the smaller man's shoulder. "Of course, Jet Kingman and Debbie saw so much together," the small man said nostalgically, coming out of his memories.

Returning from his memories, the man turned to me again. "Come, take a closer look," he said excitedly, urging me to approach.

When I was close enough to the car, I noticed many details that I hadn't seen before. Areas along the car where the paint was worn out, the tires seemed not to have been changed in a long time, the interior had patches in many places, one of the mirrors was cracked, and there were dents in the lower areas of the car body.

"As I said, it has some things to fix," the man said again, putting his hand on the car. "But let's hear the engine," he continued as if he had just remembered, quickly running to the other side of the car.

After getting under the passenger side window before taking the steering wheel with one hand and turning the key.

'Debbie' didn't start on the first try, making strange sounds as the engine didn't start its job. "It has to be done a couple of times," the man said from inside the car, somewhat embarrassed. Again, he tried, and the result was the same. This time, the man didn't say anything, and he tried again.

The engine came to life, making loudly mechanical sounds. Again, Mr. Kingman, contrary to his appearance, gave small jumps in place, completely excited by what he was seeing.

"Now, listen to this, kid," said the small man from inside the car, revving the engine and making the exhaust pipes explode with an incredible sound. I was starting to understand more and more the interest these men had in the car; it was, in a word, awesome.

After turning off the engine and closing the passenger window, the small man got out of the car. "Let's talk business. I'll be leaving on Friday, and I want Debbie to be in good hands by then," the man said, now with a much friendlier smile, while stroking his hands together.

He couldn't think I have the money now, right?

A bit embarrassed, I looked at my friend Brock, who was standing beside me, strangely fixated on the car.

"As a favor to you, a friend of my favorite nephew, I'll give you Debbie for two thousand five hundred dollars," the man said with a big sales smile, stretching out his hand, expecting a handshake.

Again, looking at my friend with concern, not receiving any response, I turned back to the man, who was sure I would want his car.

Right now, I didn't have the money, and I wasn't sure about it. The gamble was a shot in the dark that I hoped would work, but if it didn't, I wouldn't have the money for a long time.

My indecision seemed to worry the small man, who, for some reason, started to fidget nervously in place, still with his arm stretched out.

"Okay, okay, you're an incredible negotiator. two thousand is the lowest I can go," the man said, shouting defeatedly. I think he thought my hesitation was due to the price of the car, well, it actually was.

Looking towards the house, the man became increasingly nervous. It seemed like he was scared someone would come out the door. "Alright, alright, you're an amazing negotiator. Fifteen hundred and thats all I can drop," the man said, stretching his arm even further.

Fifteen hundred dollars? It seemed like the man wanted to get rid of the car as soon as possible. It was very risky. Without the money secured, it could be foolish. Darn it.

"I won't have the money until Wednesday," I said, hiding the fact that I possibly wouldn't have the money ever, actually.

"That's perfect," the man said, taking a quick step to shake my hand vigorously.

A second later, the door of the house opened, revealing a woman with a furrowed brow. "Who's it Kevin?" she asked, annoyed.

"Love!" said the man with obviously fake joy, "It's Rocky, Joey, and a friend of Joey," he continued, a bit nervously, smiling at his partner.

"Ah, Rocky," said the woman cheerfully as she came out of her house to hug Mr. Kingman. "Hello, Margaret, how are you?" Mr. Kingman asked, returning the hug to the woman.

"You know how things are, Rocky," said the woman affectionately. "Kevin doesn't want to get rid of that damn junk, and the house buyers are being difficult," she continued, ignoring the pained cry of the small man a few steps from me.

"Joey!" said the woman, separating from Mr. Kingman to hug my friend. "Aunt Margaret," my friend said, also hugging the lady. "Look at you, how handsome you've become," the woman continued, squeezing my friend's face ribs, embarrassing him while giving me a half-closed-eyed look.

Smiling at my friend, trying to be as sinister as possible to annoy him more, I almost burst into laughter when my friend did his best to pull away from the affectionate woman.

"So, who do we have here?" said the woman, separating from Brock to greet me with a calm smile.

"PJ Duncan, nice to meet you," I said, shaking hands with the woman.

"Yes, PJ here is buying Debbie, dear. Isn't that great?" the small man suddenly said, standing beside me.

"Ah, finally getting rid of that old junk," the woman exclaimed, hugging her husband. "I thought I'd have to donate it to the church or send it to the junkyard," she continued, making the small man tremble at the idea of giving away his car.

"No, it's not necessary. PJ will come on Wednesday with the money to take Debbie," the small man said quickly, looking at me with pleading eyes.

"Yes, sure, Wednesday," I agreed with the man, still unsure.

After concluding the 'negotiations' for the car named Debbie, the family said goodbye, and Mr. Kingman took me back home.

At home, I explained to Bob what they had told me about the car and its conditions. He assured me that I got a good deal for that car in those conditions.

"We can even take it to Herschel to fix whatever needs fixing before you get your license," Bob said after telling him about the car's needs.

"Herschel?" I asked the man.

"Herschel Sparks, the neighbors on the other side of the Coopers. He has a workshop," Bob explained, returning his attention to the magazine he had in his hands. Oh, the father of the chicken boy.

The day continued calmly. Gabe, who was in our room, showed me the comics that were originally owned by PJ, explaining to me about the superheroes that appeared and who they fought against.

At the end of the day, as it was becoming a habit, Bob, Gabe, and I exercised in the garage, listening to Bob's selected music.

On Monday, I was surprised to find that Gabe no longer needed me to wake him up early to go running. A few seconds after I got out of bed, Gabe woke up completely on his own.

As always, we warmed up in the front yard a few minutes before running our daily race together. Surprisingly, Gabe had managed to do one more lap around the street than usual before having to return home due to exhaustion.

Having awakened a weak sense of competitiveness with my younger brother, I decided to also run a few more laps around the neighborhood before going inside the house to continue with my daily morning routine.

Leaving the house with Bob after Mom and the kids had left on their own, we were a few steps from Bob's horrible truck when he snapped his fingers and quickly returned to the house, saying, "I'll be right back, PJ."

Unable to get into the car since Bob had taken the keys with him, I waited by the truck, oddly noticing that the two Cooper cars were still parked in front of their house. Usually, they left a few minutes before Bob and me, so having both their cars still in front of the house was unusual.

In the silence of the morning, only a few cars passed by the street, along with a few people jogging or walking their dogs. Today was going to be a quiet day; I was sure.

A moment later, my sense of security went down when I heard Mrs. Cooper screaming desperately for help from the Cooper house. "George, Help!!!" the woman shouted.

Fearing the worst, I decided to run to the Cooper house. Another heart attack just a week after one wasn't very likely, but I highly doubted that Coach Cooper followed his doctor's recommendations to the letter.

When I reached the back door of the Cooper house, I opened it quickly without bothering to call first. If it was a medical emergency, there was no time for such an action.

Inside the Cooper kitchen, the first person I found was Georgie, who was calmly eating from a jar of jam. For a fraction of a second, I thought my reaction had been unfounded until I found Coach Cooper pounding Sheldon's back along with the distressed screams of Missy and an upset Mrs. Cooper who ignored my presence.

It took me a second to figure out what was happening. "Don't do that," I said when Coach Cooper was about to lift Sheldon, surprising both the man and the other family members. 

Leaving my backpack on the kitchen floor and quickly passing by my oblivious friend who continued licking jam off a knife, I positioned Sheldon on his feet. "This might hurt, buddy, but I need you to try to speak," I said as I prepared my hands to start the Heimlich maneuver. When I began the compressions, Coach Cooper, who understood what I was doing, stepped back a few steps while trying to calm down Mrs. Cooper, who was still agitated.

"I'll call 911," Mrs. Cooper said, quickly stepping away from her husband to grab the kitchen phone.

A few quick inward and upward presses, and a piece of food flew out of Sheldon's mouth. When it stopped, I could see a small sausage.

"Oh, he spat it out," Mrs. Cooper shouted, hanging up the phone. "Sheldon, honey," she continued shouting as she approached her son running, "are you okay? Can you breathe?" she asked worriedly, getting down to Sheldon's level, "say something," she urged the still very concerned woman.

The boy, obviously breathless, took a few breaths, pointing at his brother, who continued eating without batting an eye.

"You have to throw away that jam," the little boy finally said.

"What are you talking about, sweetheart?" the woman said, relieved to see her son breathe.

I knew what Sheldon was talking about. I had seen Georgie sticking the same knife he had just licked inside the almost new jar of jam. Unable to help it, I laughed at the incredible situation. The first thing the kid says after choking is that.

"Are you okay, bud?" I asked the boy again, gaining the attention of the people in the house.

"Oh, PJ," Mrs. Cooper shouted with tears in her eyes as she stood up, "thank you," she repeated several times, pulling me into her arms in a tight hug.

"Look at that, two Coopers in a month," Coach Cooper also approached, putting his hand on my shoulder, "keep it up, kid, and we won't need to go to the hospital anymore," he continued joking.

Mrs. Cooper separated from our hug still with tears in her eyes as she laughed at her husband's joke, "don't talk nonsense, George," she said, laughing slightly.

"Well, if what Bob says is true, in a few years, PJ here will be a doctor," Mr. Cooper said, smiling amused.

"Thank you for saving my life, PJ," a more recovered Sheldon said with relief.

"It's nothing, buddy," I said to the kid again, kneeling down. "How do you feel? Can you breathe well?" I asked the child, bringing my ear close to his back.

"Yeah, I feel fine" the kid said, understanding his part and taking a deep breath.

Satisfied to hear no anomalies in his lungs, I stood up, facing the strange looks of the Cooper adults. "Oh, I heard normal breath sounds, which is a good indicator that air is circulating properly in the lungs. I didn't notice any abnormal sounds that could indicate obstructions or additional breathing difficulties. It seems like everything is fine," I explained quickly and as clear as possible so that they could understand me.

"Forget what I said, in a few months," Mr. Cooper said, with a strange smile.

"Okay PJ, I forgive you," Missy suddenly said speaking as if she had no choice from her place at the kitchen table.

"Thanks?" I responded, puzzled. What did I do?

I couldn't really figure out why the girl was thanking me because the kitchen door of the Coopers was knocked on. "George, Mary, is PJ in there?" It was Bob.

Remembering the time, I quickly grabbed my backpack a few steps away from me.

"Oh my God, look at the time," Mrs. Cooper said worriedly, while Mr. Cooper opened the door.

"Dad," I said to Bob, who looked at me strangely in the Cooper kitchen.

Laughing, Mr. Cooper greeted Bob, "You won't believe what happened, Bob," Mr. Cooper said, "it happened again," he continued, even more amused as he explained, to my embarrassment, how he had been a 'hero,' in his words.

Mrs. Cooper, along with Missy and Sheldon, left earlier while Bob and Mr. Cooper chatted cheerfully, especially Bob.

After the somewhat long chat between Bob and Mr. Cooper, we left the Cooper's house, in Bob's car on the way to school. Bob was driving with his chest puffed up and a goofy smile on his face.

"Twice in a month, must be a record," he said to himself, laughing proudly. "How did you know how to do the maneuver?" Bob asked, surprised.

"I read it in a book," I quickly lied.

Bob burst into a loud laugh, continuing to drive while shaking his head with a big smile on his face.

We arrived at school quite late; there was no one on the steps leading to the main entrance. "Have a good day, Dr. Duncan," Bob said ironically, laughing proudly when I got out of the truck.

A bit embarrassed by all of Bob's pride, I bid farewell to the man as I entered the school.

Like outside the school, the hallways were completely empty. Upon entering my first period, English, like many days before, I received many stares. This time, as soon as my presence entered the classroom, people began to talk among themselves, whispering things and, again, looking at me completely surprised.

"PJ, it's strange for you to be late. Come in, come in," Mrs. McElroy said with a big smile.

Thanking the woman with a quick nod, I was about to enter the classroom, relieved not to be reprimanded. "I hope PJ won't be punished; he saved my life," Sheldon suddenly said, causing the whispers from my classmates to intensify.

"What's going on here, silence!" said the teacher, annoyed by all the whispers. "Is that true?" the teacher asked, addressing Sheldon.

"Yes, he correctly applied the Heimlich maneuver and then checked that my lungs were in optimal condition," Sheldon explained haughtily, causing all my classmates to start whispering again.

"Good thing PJ was there then," the teacher said, smiling kindly at me while indicating again with a hand gesture to enter the classroom.

Trying to ignore my strangely long center of attention from my classmates, I took a seat next to Alan, who just nodded his head in greeting.

"Hey, you didn't tell me you saved a life," Brock whispered on the other side of Alan, leaning behind my silent friend.

"That happened today, Joey," I told the teenager joking.

"No, not Mini Cooper," he immediately responded.

---

Author Thoughts:

As always, I'm not American, let alone a doctor. (I also know nothing about cars xD)

I don't know anything about cars, only that, like houses these days, it's impossible to buy one. I don't know what price a car like the one I described should have. If you're wondering why that one and not another specific one, I watched the movie "Jack Reacher" with Tom Cruise (a good movie but completely different from the books), and I liked the car. I researched which one it was, and there you have it.

I have to mention one thing. I remember in the early chapters of the story, I commented that Alan and Brock's characters might be based on characters from the terrible movie (it really is a terrible movie) 'Facing the Giants.' But now, Victor discovered that Brock is actually a character from another movie, Joe Kingman from 'The Game Plan,' starring The Rock or Dwayne Johnson. Yes, it's something I thought of recently because I saw a TikTok. Before, Brock's character among the MC's friends wasn't so important, but now he'll be a character that will appear again later. (Spoiler, also Alan and David, but that will be for the future :D)

Brock's father is inspired by Dwayne Johnson's real father, Rocky Johnson, a fighter who in his "youth" was extremely muscular.

That being said.

I think that's it; as always, if you find any errors, let me know, and I'll correct them immediately.

Thanks for reading :D

PS: LEAVE A REVIEW, please.