Ali: A story about a crazy Egyptian

June. The evening started in Holly’s apartment. I was drinking on her couch watching candle light glow off the walls. Holly was at her computer typing and Ali was sitting on the corner of her bed with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. His look showed he was bored despite my in between attempts at talking to him and trying to meditate with the throbbing candlelight. And Lindsay was there too, sitting next to me on the couch also trying to talk to Ali. We were waiting for Jarred then going downtown to roam about.
‘Anyway, Stephen, Lindsay, this is Ali. Just like the boxer. And he’s from Egypt. I would have been on the introduction earlier but I’ve been drinking!’ Holly said with a laugh that clearly indicated the truth of her claim.
“I’m Steve.” I leaned over to give his hand a shake.
“Lindsay.” She gave a nod to Ali.
Like every drunken person, after they’ve had a bit to drink, I have a natural inclination to ask every non-English speaking person I meet how to say ‘masturbate’ in their language. I will openly admit I, though highly ashamed of myself later when sober, am quite prone this behavior.
“So…Ali, how do you say masturbate in Arabic?”
“Hmm?”
Holly turned from her computer. “How. To. Say. Masturbate. In. Arabic.” Ali still didn’t get it. So Holly complimented her speech this time with a suggestive, exaggerated hand gesture between her legs. Ali understood this time. His brows lowered and his face darkened. He told me the word but like every drunkard I forgot the word five minutes after asking him. And like every drunkard, I didn’t realize the severe consternation my inquiry caused. Having upset his disposition thus, we mutually retired from conversation. Until Jarred, without knocking opened the door and slipped off his shoes to share a seat on the couch.
“Hey kids what’s the plan?”
“Ready to leave when you are.”
“Alright.” We left the apartment not noticing the dancing candlelight on Ali’s even darker face and deeply furrowed brows—evidently, seriously grieved that too many men were in Holly’s apartment.

Several hours later, at the end of the night, I opened the door to my dark apartment. While the florescent bulb was flickering after rubbing my hand darn near across the wall until I hit the switch, I closed the door and flopped belly down on the floor. The floor stopped my descent with a smack—skin on linoleum. But the dark space behind me eyes started spinning. I was mumbling to myself, while untying my shoelaces. I rolled to my back and pushed my self along the floor by my legs until I got to my wardrobe. I made myself naked and crawled into the bathroom for an icy shower. My phone rings. I put clothes on first and answered it because to me, talking naked on a phone feels the same as talking naked face to face.
“Oh hi Stephen, It’s Holly. Are you finished masturbating?”
“Nah I was about to get in the shower.”
“Well, whenever you feel like it, do you want to come down here?”
“Ok.” I put socks on and stepped into my flip-flops. I walked down the stairs and from the foyer that connects the flights between our apartments I saw Holly’s door open and I heard a lot of noise. I thought the wild night was still going, so I entered the apartment in jovial spirits. What I saw in progress was quite the opposite of a party. It was Ali in the center of the room wielding a long, plastic stick with a rubber fist and using it to fend off Holly and Lindsay. They surrounded him and were taking turns shouting for him to leave the apartment. Ali saw me enter and he dropped the toy fist and approached the door to take me by the hands.
“Friend! Talk to them!” He stood at my side and pointed at them with vigilance and a quivering finger, as if they were a set of crazed harpies.
“Yes, Ali. I’m your friend. Now come with me and we will talk about this outside.” I motioned him outside. He wouldn’t have it. Ali realized my allegiance rested with Holly and Lindsay. And with a growl, he shook off my grasp and swung me inside.
“You sit and watch!” Just then, and just as before, Jarred walked into the apartment.
“Hey, what’s going on?” I could tell by Jared’s face he was once under a similar impression as myself having a drunk-happy face turn to horror after walking into what he thought was a party instead of the present situation.
“What! What! You let any man to your apartment!” Ali shouted to Holly.
“Get out!” Lindsay stamped her foot and snapped her arm and finger to the open door: a most commanding order that Ali should exit. An order I didn’t want to give for fear Ali would react as he eventually did. He became even angrier and ringed his hands about her throat and shoved her with a force that sent her reeling into Jared. Who, having met Ali’s ferocious glare at the doorway, quickly sought refuge in a corner behind Lindsay. After shoving Lindsay off, he took a huge breath, and whipped his shirt off over his head and flexing his muscles, cords bulging out of his neck shouted:
“I’m from Egypt! Everybody go home! Holly and me have sex! Now!” I covered my mouth to stifle a giggle. Ali noticed and was about to ring my neck screaming: “You! This isn’t funny!” I put my hands up to stop his and reassured him of the situation’s seriousness. Meanwhile, Lindsay having recovered from the shock at having been thrown across the room collected her self and was about to, from the looks of her face, dash his eyes out or leave a set of dripping fingernail crescents into his cheeks. When Holly, suddenly visited by an idea, stood up and said:
“Ok Ali. Ok. Lets go talk. We can talk outside.” Ali lowered his arms in victory and gave a last glare to the three of us—a warning he wasn’t to be trifled with again in such a fashion—as he was leaving the room. He balled his shirt into his hands and walked outside. The old bugger fell for it! He didn’t notice Holly kept one foot inside and one hand on the doorknob. Showing an adept dexterity, Holly stepped inside, snapped the door closed, slid the bolt in place. We heard a muffled shotgun blast—Ali’s fist into the door. Then, he gave blood-curdling cry—no doubt upset at how easily he was foiled. He ran around to the front of the building. We could see the vague outline of a middle finger pressed to the dimpled glass window, shouting: “Fuck you Canada! Fuck you Canada! Two men come out. We fight!”

Act I Scene i. Silence. It is morning and sunlight peaks out over the mountain and streams in illuminating the apartment. To the left, Jared and Stephen share and orange-vinyl couch. And two the right, Lindsay and Holly are sitting on Holly’s queen sized bed. In front of the bed, there is a television, and behind the television, a refrigerator on top of which is a microwave. Between the couch and fridge is a sliding door that leads into the kitchen. By this time, everyone is sure Ali has left. And that it’s safe to start talking again. Holly is the first to break the silence by breathing out a long sigh of relief.
Stephen: Wow.
Lindsay: What a jackass.
Jared: Glad that’s over.
Holly: So Lindsay—come to Korea. You can get thrown across the room by crazed Egyptians.” (A few weeks before, Holly had been convincing Lindsay, her best friend from home, to teach English in Korea.)
Lindsay: Yeah, for the record, Let’s hope I never live through that again.
Stephen: Lindsay you looked prepared to have his throat out.
Lindsay: That’s because you don’t hit girls! Even my American friends know better—no offence Stephen.
Stephen: None taken.
Holly: So how about Jared hiding behind Lindsay?
Jared: Hey, if hiding and watching someone else get manhandled instead of yourself makes you a coward—then I’m totally OK with being a coward.
Stephen: What did you say to him that made him fly off the handle like that?
Holly: Umm, that I didn’t want to have sex tonight.
Jared: That’s all it took?
Holly: Well he wasn’t happy that Jared walks in and out of my apartment without knocking because it makes me look like a whore. And it certainly didn’t help that Stephen asked him how to say masturbate in Arabic.
Stephen: Like that’s the first time he’s been asked that question—hanging out with drunken white people. (Holly shrugs her shoulders)
Holly: I just hope he doesn’t come back.
Lindsay: Well you said he works in Busan right? So it’s not like he can just come over on a whim.
Holly: After tonight’s episode I wouldn’t put it past him. It just sucks I can’t go to Busan anymore.
Jared: Would you talk to Janice about switching apartments?
Holly: Yeah, or at least putting extra locks on the door.
Lindsay: Does he still go to Seoul on weekends?
Holly: That’s right. I guess I can’t go to Seoul anymore either.
Jared: I wouldn’t worry about that. The military base is there and if any G.I sees and Arabic man heckling a white woman they will most certainly intervene.
Holly: That’s assuming they can intervene before Ali puts a knife in me.
Stephen: Yeah, but Seoul is a massive city. What are the odds your paths will cross?
Holly: We both like the same bar. That’s where we met. Anyway, Lindsay, are you staying over?
Lindsay: Umm, yeah.
Stephen: I think I’m going home.
Everyone together: Goodnight.

Stephen crosses the room to the door and steps into his flip-flops. He peers outside the door for a moment and dashes back in doing his best to appear trifled.

Stephen: He’s still here! He’s still here!
Jared: Hey Stephen, fuck off.
Stephen: Ok, that was inappropriate good night.