Who You Gonna Call?

"Jeff, can you do me a favor?" Chris handed the man a mango-flavored Snapple.

Jeff graciously accepted the beverage. "Can I do you a favor?" he repeated. He paused to peruse the interesting fact printed on the inside of the bottle cap. "You're my best friend. I'd give you my blood. I'd give you my kidney. If you ever decide to populate the world, I'd gladly submit my sperm to your surrogate."

"While that's extremely kind of you, I don't…" An errant question crept into Chris' brain. "Why would I use your sperm? Mine are more than capable of providing the genetic material?"

"Your genetic material is defective," replied Jeff. "I love ya, Chris, but you can be bat-shit crazy sometimes. Now, what's your favor?"

While Jeff Hardy had been Chris Jericho's best friend since college, he never failed to be a pain in the ass. Still, Jeff was trust worthy. Jeff was loyal. Jeff was the person Chris called to spray paint the word "douche" on an ex-boyfriend's car. Allegedly.

Sitting across from Jeff at the dining room table, Chris induced the favor. "I need you to break my laptop."

The sound that shot out of Jeff's mouth was a crossbreed between a gurgle and a scream. Snapple dribbling down his chin, Jeff clutched the edge of the table. "Have you lost your pretty little mind? That laptop is your baby!"

"I know, Jeff."

"You go to bed with that machine more nights than with a real, live person!"

Chris frowned. "I think you might be exaggerating a bit there." While Chris did love his little Lucinda, it wasn't like he used it to surf porn or anything. It broke his heart that she would have to be sacrificed for a greater good.

Unrelenting, Jeff accused, "Did you or did you not phone me the minute you pulled it out of the box? Demanding that I drop whatever I was doing so I could bask in the glow of its LCD screen, admire its slim design, and marvel at the speed of its little engine?"

If he were a lesser man, Chris would have hung his head in shame. Instead, he remained defiant. "She doesn't have an engine! This is a computer, not a Ferrari."

"And what was I doing, you ask?" Once Jeff got started on a rant, he was damn near unstoppable. "Spending some quality time with my brother. And do you know what happens to Matt if I leave him by himself in a mall?"

Chris thumped his head down on the solid maple table. "You're gonna tell me anyway, aren't you?"

Shooting to his feet, Jeff shouted, "He buys George Foreman grills!"

He knew he would regret it. But Chris just had to ask. "And what's wrong with that?"

Jeff had been prepared for that exact question. Throwing his hands in the air for dramatic effect, he hollered, "He has ten of them! Ten! In different colors and dimensions! If there was some 800 number I could call or intervention to perform, I would do it in a heartbeat!"

What this had to do with his laptop, Chris had no idea. "So… You won't help me?"

Jeff sat back down. "Why would you want to break it in the first place?"

Poking at an imaginary spot on the table, Chris explained, "It doesn't have to be broken… Maybe you could plant one of those Trojan things… Scramble the hard drive a bit."

This was going far outside Jeff's comfort zone. Chris' computer was less than six months old. Why would be want to contaminate it? Jeff shook his head. "Sorry, man. As far as I'm concerned, Trojans are something you pick up in the Health aisle. And the only thing I know how to scramble are eggs. Now, what gives, Jericho?"

"Nothing," Chris insisted. Lucinda the laptop rested on the surface between them. "I just thought…"

Jeff swept the laptop off the table. It crashed to the floor with a sickening thud.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Chris ran around the table and retrieved his precious Lucinda. He flipped it over, examining it on all sides. As far as he could tell, there was only a small scuff on the side. Cradling the computer in his arms, Chris cooed, "It's okay, baby. I won't let that mean, mean man anywhere near you again."

There were times Jeff worried his friend would wind up as one of those weirdoes with a dozen cats, reeking of cat urine and tang. Watching Chris' display, he now knew better. Chris would grow old with his computer.

"I thought you wanted me to break it."

Chris' blue eyes turned as dark as storm clouds. "The inside, you macadamia! He can't fix the outside!"

Light bulb!

"'He'?" Jeff inquired. "Who is 'he'?"

Running at a hundred miles an hour, Chris' brain tried to think of an answer that would be both acceptable and as far away from the truth as possible. Jeff could be so nosy; he should have been a private investigator. Or worked on that show Cheaters.

"What 'he'?" lied Chris. "Who he? I didn't say he. Do you smell gas? I think I left the oven on. Excuse me." Chris got off his knees and raced to the kitchen, Lucinda clutched to his chest.

Jeff did not buy any of it. In hot pursuit, he caught Chris by the shirt collar. "Who is he, Jericho? You can tell me now or tell me later, but I will find out."

It was true. Even if it meant tapping Chris' phone or hacking into his email. Jeff would get the goods. "You remember the guy who helped carry some boxes up from the curb when I moved in? Tall. Long brown hair. Scar on his left cheek."

"Oh, yeah…" A smile spread across Jeff's face. His hazel eyes danced. "Mr. Muscles."

One of Jeff's great attributes, Chris always said, was his tendency to speak his mind. Even when common sense and decency should have overridden the thought.

"Kane," Chris corrected. "His name is Kane and he lives upstairs."

Jeff shrugged. "I like my name better. But go on."

"I ran into him by the mailboxes the other day and we got to talking. Turns out he's really into computers and I happened to mention… just in passing, mind you… that my laptop had been acting screwy lately. Long story short –"

"Not short enough…"

Chris pressed on. "Kane said I could stop by his place sometime and he would take a look at it for me."

"I see…" Jeff rubbed his chin. "Like your own personal Geek Squad."

"If that's what you wanna call it," shrugged Chris. "Granted, I don't think he qualifies as a 'squad'."

Things became clear to Jeff very quickly. "So you need to turn your fully functioning computer into a non-functioning one in the hopes of initiating a hook-up?"

"Don't say 'hook-up'," Chris chided. "You know I hate that term. Besides, this is not a sexual tactic."

"I'll say it's not…"

"I'm just trying to get to know him better. I'm probably barking up the wrong tree anyway. He probably has a girlfriend or is celibate or was born a woman."

Jeff sighed. Loudly. The pity train had pulled into the station. And Chris had purchased a one-way ticket to Woe Is Me Island. Located in the Cape of Can't Get No Lovin'. "Is this the part where I give you an inspirational pep talk that sends you charging upstairs into the arms of the man of your dreams? Well, I don't have an Academy award winning writer in my back pocket. So this will have to do.

You are an intelligent, good-looking, compassionate man with few vices, strong ethics, and a questionable sense of humor. If Mr. Muscles does not know a good thing when it comes knocking at his door, then it sucks to be him. And I suggest you leave Lucinda alone because, if all else fails, you can use it to go on eHarmony. Now if you will excuse me… I have to get home before Matt eats all the hamburgers."