The Spindle

“Hutch, you know, you and me, we’re like the thing that holds the toilet paper.”

Starsky came out of the john with a thoughtful look on his face. Instead of resuming his seat next to Hutch on the sofa, he stood at the end of it and looked down at Hutch.

“Hutch, you know, you and me, we’re like the thing that holds the toilet paper.”

Whatever Hutch was expecting Starsky to say, it sure as hell wasn’t this.

“We’re… what?”

“The thing that holds the toilet paper roll on the toilet paper holder.” Starsky said it slowly, as if to a small child, one that maybe hadn’t been potty trained yet.

“The toilet paper holder,” Hutch said. Repeating the words didn’t make them any less bizarre.

“Yeah, the thing, the part with the spring in it.”

“The thing… you mean the spindle?”

“Yeah, I guess, if that’s what you call it.” Starsky paused expectantly.

Hutch heaved a sigh and said, “Okay, I’ll bite. Why are we like the toilet paper spindle?”

“You know how it’s got the two parts that slide over the spring?”

Hutch rolled his eyes but nodded. He still didn’t know where this was going, but when Starsky got an idea in his head, it was better to let him just get it out. Trying to derail Starsky from his thoughts would only make it worse in the long run. This was a lesson Hutch learned the hard way, through countless hours spent during stakeouts, while cruising their beat, while kicking back and relaxing at Huggy’s; or even like now, when they were just hanging out at home, having pizza and a few beers.

Maybe too many beers, Hutch was beginning to realize.

“Well,” Starsky continued, “The two pieces are kind of alike, but they’re not exactly the same. I mean, even though they both fit over the spring, one is a little bigger and slides over the other one, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And those two pieces aren’t held together with anything.”

“The bracket holds it together,” Hutch pointed out.

Starsky waved away the bracket as an inconsequential detail. “You know what I mean. They’re not, like, stuck together. Anyway…” he paused, choosing his words carefully. “If you hold it like this—” he held his hand with his fingers drawn together and pointing up, with an imaginary spindle held vertically between them, “—the piece on the bottom holds the other piece up.” Then he cupped his other hand over the imaginary spindle and turned it over. “And when you turn the thing upside down, the other piece is now the piece on the bottom and it’s still holding the other piece up!”

Hutch gaped at him.

Starsky grinned triumphantly. “Just like us, see? Nothing is making us stick to each other. We’re together because we wanna be. And it don’t matter which one of us needs to be held up. We hold each other up, and we always will.”

In a weird, crazy, and completely ridiculous way, it sort of made sense. Never mind that the analogy would collapse at the mere breath of sober scrutiny, Hutch actually found it kind of touching.

There was no ‘maybe’ about it: he’d definitely had too many beers.

“Yeah, you’re right, Starsk.” Starsky was still standing next to him, so Hutch patted him on the arm. “We’ll always hold each other up.”

“We’ll be there for each other, through thick and thin, right?”

“Right,” Hutch said, nodding. He reached for another slice of pizza from the box on the coffee table.

“Help each other, no matter how hard or how tough the problem is.”

Hutch stopped, his food halfway to his lips.

“‘Cause that’s what friends do, good friends, like you and me.”

Hutch narrowed his eyes.

“Starsky, what the hell did you do?”

Starsky bathed Hutch in the radiance of his best and brightest smile.

“I, uh, dropped the spring down the toilet.”

Chapter End Notes: