Fritz and Zooey: An Excerpt

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The sun set hours ago, but it was still light near the bay. Zooey sat on the balcony hugging her knees and sniffing the air. Strawberries, she thought, another migraine aura to start off the evening. The wind that blew in with the tides became brisk, curling around Zooey’s slouched posture as she shrugged it off. She gazed out over the buildings and onto the never ending bustle of the streets below, and she felt safe.

Her roomate Fritz never returned from what she thought had been a long day of uninspired writing in a run down coffee shop. Zooey tried what she could to help his creativity, be it feng sui, or constantly tending to the ever productive coffee makers that were convieniently placed in every room of the apartment…just in case.

From the balcony, Zooey could hear the key in the lock. By the time she entered the hall, she could see Fritz had a smile on his face. This can’t be good, she thought.

Zooey noticed that Fritz wasn’t carrying his notebook, and he appeared more disheveled than usual, yet that smile was still chiseled onto his face. He panted momentarily before exclaiming, “I got a job!” He ran to the small kitchen to fill the largest mug (his inspirational cup as he called it) with the coffee she had made hours ago.

He drank it without any thought and paced between the balcony and back to the coffee pot, refilling every time he felt a surge of emotion coming on. All Zooey could do was look at him with the usual gaze of amusement, sitting in her undergarments on the yellow daisy patterned sofa, waiting for Fritz to explain.

After finishing the entire pot of coffee, which equalled around ten cups, Fritz sat across from Zooey on the violet velvet covered armchair and fidgeted with his hands.

“Well,” he started, “I didn’t technically get a job…”

“Well,” Zooey prodded, “what did you do?”

“Let’s just say, we are now the proud owners of a coffee shop that has been abandoned for some time…” Fritz took a breath before looking up from the floor to meet Zooey’s gaze.

“We?”

“I can’t do it by myself, plus this has been our dream since we became flatmates,” Fritz defended.

“That place must be boss,” Zooey said enthusiastically.

“That’s what I thought,” Fritz said cheerfully, “Everything was left in it, its a real mess but I’m sure we could have some fun with it.”

“Where is it?” Zooey asked excitedly. “Oh, I could really use a ciggarette, let’s go buy some coffee and celebrate, we can talk as we walk.” She jumped up towards the door, her messy dark hair trailing behind her. Fritz controlled himself from breaking into a smile.

“Shouldn’t you put on some clothes first?”

Zooey spun around on her toes, her feet making annoying squeeking sounds on the hardwood flooring as she twisted. She looked down at herself and smiled broadly at her bare feet, polka dotted underwear and Fritz’s Cat Steven’s tshirt that hung loosely on her shoulders.

Fritz scratched at his unshaven chin as he watched Zooey excitedly pace around from room to room, her shadow dancing behind her in the candlelit hallway as if she were part of an entertaining vaudville act.

She returned to the couch still in Fritz’s tshirt with an African print skirt she had purchased at the Haight Ashbury street fair two summer’s ago, and one turqouise suede boot on her left foot.

“It’s so great that I’m unorganized,” she gasped as she hopped about on one foot, adjusting the boot, “or else I’d never get any excercise…”

She ducked down under the daisy printed sofa, lifting up Fritz’s feet, and crawling underneath. He could hear her muffled voice from under the sofa.

“I found it!”

Zooey emerged from under the sofa on her hands and knees with the missing boot dangling from her mouth in a comical fashion.

“God Fritz, do we ever clean? It’s like the Salvation Army down there.”

Fritz dipped his head under the couch curiously, “I wonder if that’s where my John Water’s films are…”

“Hardly,” Zooey scoffed, “I thought you hawked those to buy a year’s worth of tickets for the midnight screenings of Rocky Horror Picture Show.”

“I would never,” Fritz started as he reached his arm under the couch, “besides, this is useless, we should save digging under the couch for more important occassions. Like…when we have a party or something. Just think, we get other people to clean under our couch and find our useless junk and make them think they’re doing some kitschy retro party game. It’s genius.”

“People aren’t that gullible, Fritz,” Zooey said as she braced herself against the cluttered coffee table to stand up.

“Fine, but remember…it was my idea,” he said.


Zooey dusted off her skirt as Fritz opted to empty the coffee pot in the hallway where they hung their coats and sometimes the organic vegetables.

“Zooey,” Fritz called, “do we have any clean coffee mugs?”
Zooey looked around the organized clutter. There were possibly hundreds of used coffee mugs everywhere, in every shape and colour imaginable. The majority of them were half full of coffee from possibly months ago, some were full of pencils or toxic water used for watercolour painting.

“Not one,” she said disdainfully.

“Did you check the bedrooms? Or the closet? I keep some under the bathroom sink, you know.”

“Face it Fritz, they’re all dirty, its hopeless…let’s just buy some clean ones on our walk.”

“Good idea,” Fritz said hopefully, and continued to drink the coffee straight from the pot.

They grabbed their bags from the hooks next to the door in silence and Zooey followed Fritz out into the dimly lit landing.

Zooey and Fritz descended from their creative insanity into the happily lit streets of the night. They walked in silence for some time taking in the atmosphere of the city that they equally adored. If there was any time they loved the city, it was in the vibrant early evening, when cheesy neon lights were no longer just for the frequented adult shops, but they reigned for everyone’s enjoyment.
“So,” Zooey challenged their silence, “Aren’t you going to tell me anything about this place we supposedly own?” Fritz looked at her warmly.

“It’s going to be a suprise now that you’ve gotten all inquisitive,” he challenged.

“What? No way,” she stammered, “you can’t keep me guessing all night. My imagination will turn me into a blubbering insomniac. You know how scary that is.”

“True,” said Fritz, “but still, words can’t even describe how remotely awful and amazing this place is.”

“Awful and amazing describes quite a lot to me. It must be wonderful then. Do you smell corndogs?” Zooey sniffed the air.

“I wonder why you always smell things you hate when you are about to have a migraine,” Fritz pondered as he looked up at the sky that was void of stars.

“Must be some karmic thing,” Zooey said, shrugging off the idea, “Where do you suppose we could find really tacky coffee mugs at this hour?”

“Well, we are kind of close to the bay, and those touristy places are open fairly late…that stuff is more kitschy than your red and white checkered table cloth and those ridiculous corn on the cob holders we never use,” Fritz said with a laugh.

“Ooh,” Zooey smirked, “I love gawking at tourists, maybe that’s why I smell those revolting corn dogs.” They continued along the crowded sidewalks full of nightclubbers shrouded in ciggarette smoke and from time to time would bump into determined drag queens on their way to the shiny bars on the north side.

“I wish one of them would adopt me,” Zooey said hopefully as she looked back at the throng of vibrantly dressed characters.

Zooey continued to study the people of the night as they walked in a downward slope masked in the yellow lamplight that eminated from the streetlamps.

“I’m glad I broke in these boots a long time ago,” Zooey said as she grabbed Fritz’s arm and began to jog, trailing him behind her in attempts to cross the street before the trolley could block foot traffic. They panted as they crossed the metal tracks and saluted the passenger trolley with their customary peace signs as it rang its obnoxious bell.

“Oh look, the outskirts of tourist-ville,” Fritz said arrogantly, “I can see the GAP from here.”

Zooey grimaced, “How repulsive.” She dug into her purse and pulled out a pair of blue heart shaped sunglasses and put them on in a dignified manner.

“Those are mine,” Fritz said sternly with an air of humour.
“So is this shirt I’m wearing,” she rebutted. She pulled off the glasses and turned to put them on Fritz. He flashed another peace sign and pulled off his tacky piano key scarf and handed it to her.

“Thanks,” Zooey said, wrapping the scarf around her neck. They continued to walk along the streets that were filled with the bright lights of traffic.
“I can’t believe you are going to make me wait,” Zooey sighed.

“For what,” said Fritz, “to talk amateur business philosophy?”

“I’m just excited, that’s all,” she said gazing out at the lantern strung tourist boats. Fritz gripped Zooey’s arm vigorously.

“Look, they’re open,” he pointed to the trinket shop at the end of the pier, “God, I haven’t been to this place in ages.” The pier was alive with action among the throngs of bag carrying, stroller pushing, visor wearing tourists. Zooey and Fritz made their way into the compact store. The walls were crowded with cheap seashells and shotglasses, and the smell of plastic bags and cotton candy mingled in the air.

“This is so tacky it’s almost cool,” Fritz said, beaming. They both stopped short in front of a floor to ceiling case of monogrammed coffee mugs.

“We need these,” Fritz gasped.

Fritz picked up one of the mugs which featured a comical image of the Golden Gate Bridge printed under the name ‘Frank’.

“I doubt they have our names,” Zooey said frowning.
“Let’s just pick some really absurd ones then,” Fritz said hopefully.

“I call the one that says Barbara,” he shouted. He clutched the cup to his chest protectively.

“No way,” Zooey whined, “I so wanted to be Barbara!” Fritz frowned from underneath his sunglasses.

“Fine,” she said grabbing a mug randomly, “then I get to be Josh.”

Fritz laughed, “Barb and Josh!”

“We must bring these out when we have company,” he said in a snobbish tone.

“Quite,” Zooey agreed in an equally snobbish manner.
The guy running the counter was a young twenty-something Morrissey look-alike. He squinted at them from underneath large, black Elvis Costello-style glasses.

“Isn’t it a bit dark outside to be wearing sunglasses?” He sniffed at Fritz.

“I don’t suppose your names are actually Barbara and Josh,” he said looking from Fritz to Zooey, who smirked.

“Rough day?” Zooey asked. The guy softened his look.

“You two must be locals,” he said as he wrapped the mugs in yellow tissue paper.

“No,” Zooey gasped sarcastically, “What gave it away?”

“Well,” he started, “You two look like extras from the Urban Oufitter’s catalogue. Besides, you are the first people today who didn’t try to take my picture.” Zooey and Fritz laughed, they knew how ridiculous the tourists could get, especially when given free usage of cameras.

“I’m Nasa,” the guy chimed in.

“You’re name is Nasa?” Questioned Zooey.

“Better than Barbara or Josh,” he quipped.

“No, I mean, that’s a deck name,” replied Zooey, taking note of his Joy Division tshirt and smiling as she handed him the money.

“I’m Zooey, and this is my roomate Fritz, we live over on Haight. So, what the hell is a guy named Nasa doing working in tourist-ville for?”

“I must look like a loser,” Nasa blushed, “I’m filling in for a friend of mine…it’s a long story.” Fritz nudged Zooey, she dug in her purse.

“Hey Nasa, you got a pen?” Zooey asked. He handed her a purple sharpie from behind the register as she pulled out a peach flavoured Swisher Sweet cigarello and wrote her address and phone number on the side before handing it to him.

“Call us,” Fritz chimed in. He and Zooey channeled out to the night. Nasa held on to the ciggarello, looking back sheepishly at Zooey who flashed him a peace sign from the window outside.

“Don’t smoke it!” Zooey shouted through the glass.
Fritz and Zooey mingled on the sidewalks, swinging their arms back and forth in silence.

“I hope Nasa calls us,” Fritz said dreamily.

“He does have undeniable sex appeal,” Zooey said squinting, “God, I’m starving, let’s go eat.”

“We better go somewhere that serves coffee, I feel like my caffiene levels are running low,” Fritz said as he polished his sunglasses on the end of his tshirt.

“Yeah, after about fifteen cups you really start hitting rock bottom,” Zooey said sternly. “You have any spare cash?”
“Yeah, somewhere in here,” Fritz said, digging into the bottom of his hemp bag.

“Perfect,” Zooey said dragging him to a bus that had just stopped at a corner where a folk music group was playing for a small crowd that gave out no spare change.

The bus was dirtier than usual, and Fritz and Zooey were the only ones that boarded at the stop, they had the bus to themselves until the next stop.

Fritz and Zooey could her a raspy cough from the back ailes of the bus where a decrepit homeless man had been sleeping. As the bus lurched over a few bumps, the old man straightened himself and brushed the front of his jacket off with two mittened hands. He made his way down the center aisles and stopped two rows behind Fritz and Zooey before sitting down again.

“I’m Haroooollllld,” he slurred, wiping his nose with the sleeve of a tattered millitary jacket he wore.

“Hi Harold,” Zooey said with a laugh.

“You know whaaaaat,” Harold started, “I’m goinnnng to the zoooo.”

“I bet you are…” muttered Fritz.

“Shut up,” Zooey said as she punched Fritz in the arm, “This guy is awesome.”

“Oh yeah?” Zooey said to Harold. Fritz decided to join in on Zooey’s fun and he turned to face him.

Harold leaned on the seat in front of him, “You bet I am…”
“Whoops,” he hiccuped, “This is my stop…” Harold got up and made his way to the front.

“Hey Harold,” Fritz shouted, “What year is it?”

“1973,” he called out

The old man hobbled down the steps and onto the pavement when the bus finally made its stop. As the doors closed he stood on the sidewalk for sometime, waving back at Fritz and Zooey, who could have only been ghosts to him.

Fritz turned back to Zooey, “He really did think it was 1973.”

“Told you he was awesome,” Zooey said childishly.

“Where are we going anyway?” Fritz asked.

“This bus goes to Union Square,” Zooey said, “We can get off and cross over to Mel’s Diner.”

“How American Graffitti of us…” Fritz trailed off as he watched the lights inside the bus flicker everytime they made a stop at a light.

“Don’t you just love riding the bus?” Fritz asked.
Zooey had her head tipped against the window as she watched the city move by in slow motion.

“Yeah,” she said, “it’s actually kind of comforting, its like our equivilant of watching television, except we’re really seeing the world through our own eyes, instead of how other people imagine it to be…”

The world flew by Fritz and Zooey, and they watched the traffic and pedestrians dreamily. The bus made a few stops and became crowded, yet it remained quiet, as if everyone was listening for something they couldn’t hear.

Mel’s Diner was fairly busy, even at this hour. This was the night life they lived for. Zooey breathed in the intoxicating smell of coffee and breakfast served all day. They sat at a booth and immediatly were greeted by a curly haired blonde in a pink uniform.

“Hi, I’m Gina, ooh, those are cute glasses,” she said to Fritz.

“I like your fucking earrings,” he responded loudly. The waitress looked taken aback for a moment.

“Er, thanks,” she looked nervously over towards Zooey.

“Coffee, we need coffee,” Fritz moaned.

“Two cups of coffee, okay…” she said writing frivilously on a pad of paper before turning away.

“No,” Fritz called her back, “we want two pots of coffee, or maybe you could just put them in bowls or something…we’re cultural…”

Another waitress walked up behind Gina, who’s face was plastered with questions which were mostly along the lines of, why me? The other waitress was older, middle aged, and her pink uniform fit more snugly on her pudgy frame.

“Hey, its Brenda!” shouted Zooey. Fritz looked at Zooey amused.

“You know the waitstaff by name…I knew you liked breakfast…but seriously,” he said with a laugh.

Brenda pushed Gina aside, and ordered her to butter toast.
“All she’s good for anyway,” Brenda muttered.

“So,” Brenda said as she looked from Zooey and then back to Fritz,”Two bowls of java, a large order of french toast, one pancake, cut in half, a cup of whipped cream, a marichino cherry with the stem, and one spoon.”

“Brenda, you remembered my usual…you are divine,” said Zooey. Brenda looked over to Fritz.

“And for you?”

“Uh,” Fritz stammered, “yeah, I’ll have that too, minus the spoon part.” Brenda walked away with a smirk and yelled the order to the cooks.

“No spoon?” Zooey questioned.

“I don’t really understand the significance of the spoon,” Fritz said.

“Me either, I just like throwing in silverware into my order to break up the monotany,” Zooey said with a shrug.
Fritz and Zooey looked around wildly at the crowd Mel’s had brought in. The barstools at the counter were filled with night owls getting their fill of cheap coffee and moderately priced atmosphere. The speaker’s blared Surfin’ Safari and Zooey bobbed her head up and down to the beat.

“I feel like I’m in a Daniel Clowe’s graphic novel,” Zooey beamed.

“Where is that Brenda with our coffee?” Fritz scanned the diner for her pink form.

“Right here,” Brenda said unamused carrying two large soup bowls full of coffee in which she set before Fritz and Zooey.

“Groovy,” Zooey said, fighting Fritz for the pink packets of sugar.

“We should get a jukebox,” Fritz said to his coffee bowl.

“And listen to Surfin’ Safari all day!” Zooey said enthusiatically to Fritz’s questioning stare, ”...or not.”

Brenda returned a few minutes later with her arms full of breakfast in which she served to Fritz and Zooey. Zooey immediately dug into the cup of whipped cream, and Fritz watched her from behind his mountain of french toast.

“I wonder if they use condensed milk in this,” he said lifting a piece up with his fork.

“A mmmph a mphhhh bfffsssh,” Zooey said deep into her pile of breakfast. She swallowed.

“If so,” she started, looking deeply into the face of her severed pancake, “we now have a use for all that panda stuff. Although, it does look kind of cute next to the sink.”

“But maybe if we moved it,” she started again, “we could finally be able to wash all those coffee cups that are carpeting our apartment, I keep finding them in my bed…” Fritz looked shocked.

“And ruin my dirty coffee cup collection, no way. It took me months to get them like that. Plus, I just like using the excuse that we have no clean ones, to buy newer, more uglier ones.”

“Mmmphh wmmmph errrrf mmmph,” Zooey replied.
Fritz and Zooey finished half of their late night breakfast before they both agreed that they felt equally ready for a second helping of caffiene. As Brenda cleared the plates she promised to return with a full pot of freshly brewed coffee. Fritz and Zooey doodled idly on their paper menus, and from time to time, would look up to watch the people that passed in and out.

“Don’t you ever sometimes wonder about the different lives these people live,” Zooey questioned with her eyes gazing over the crowd.

“I sometimes draw inspiration from not knowing,” Fritz started, “I like to use my imagination to build up these people’s lives and personalities, sometimes I use them in my own writing.”

Brenda brought around fresh coffee and filled their bowls. They drank it in silence and continued to watch the other customers.

“You know,” Zooey said, “We intentionally left the house to smoke and buy more coffee for the apartment. We sure get sidetracked easily.”

“Yeah,” Fritz agreed, “but look what we did do.”

Fritz and Zooey split the check evenly at the counter. They left Mel’s caffienated and eager for what little the night had left to offer them. They caught a bus that headed back towards the pier and they napped on each other’s shoulders for the duration of the ride.

At this hour the bus was filled with wayward people who bent their heads towards their laps and clutched their umbrellas and shopping bags. The bus made frequent stops and picked up more passengers, this time young people on their way home from hours of clubbing. The bus was fairly empty, yet they opted to stand and hold on to the hand rails in attempts to be fashionable.

“Fritz, wake up,” Zooey prodded, “I’m afraid the coffee has failed you. Come on, this is our stop.” Fritz and Zooey descended from the bus and were greeted by the same folk music group they encountered earlier. Zooey peered into the open guitar case in front of the singers, it only had a few coins in the bottom. Zooey frowned and dug into her purse for a peach cigarello…

Zooey pulled out a purple pen from the depths of her bag.

“You slut,” Fritz gasped, “you stole that guy’s pen.”

“Oops,” she replied, looking down at the pen and smiling, “better than a gear shift cap.”

“What?” Fritz said looking confused. Zooey frowned at him.

“Obviously you didn’t see the film,” she said writing her name and phone number on the cigarello as Fritz peeked over her shoulder.

“Even though I’m wearing sunglasses I can still see that you didn’t put my name on there too,” he whined.

“Oh, sorry,” Zooey said as she scribbled ’...and Fritz too’ underneath what she had written before tossing the cigarello into the guitar case. The woman playing guitar looked up and smiled at the two of them, she had a noticeable glow to her face that made her beautiful, like the moon. She stopped playing and flashed the two of them a peace sign with two slender fingers. Zooey and Fritz saluted back and walked away, watching her hypnotizing smile as they did so.

Haunted by the eerie smile of the woman sitting on the sidewalk, Fritz and Zooey were speechless for some time as they ascended the slanted city streets back to their apartment.

“Why do you keep giving out our number?” Fritz asked curiously, turning his head towards Zooey.

“I don’t know, it’s like putting a bookmark in a page of a book. If I see someone i find incredibly interesting, I give them my number in hopes that they will try and contact me later, its how i build relationships without having to use the personals,” she replied.

“So you do go for women…” Fritz said with an air of ‘a-ha!’.

“No,” Zooey said, “Relationships as in friendships, networking basically.”

“How come I never saw you doing this before?” Fritz asked.
“Well,” Zooey said, “You’re usually writing, we don’t share everything, you know.”

“We should,” he said, “Especially if that Nasa guy calls back.” Fritz and Zooey laughed and continued their trudge home as they dissapeared into the dark shadows of the night.