How soon is now?

Last night, when Arne was taking me through what he called "night driving maneuvers," I saw a man in a dark suit doing evasive maneuvers behind telephone poles. I had to look twice: it was Duncan, but he looked perfectly like an undertaker in his suit. Arne saw that I looked interested in Duncan and had me drive very close to the sidewalk and very slowly. Once Duncan calmed down, he realized that I was me and I wasn't trying to kill him. He's very nervous right now for some reason. I asked him if he wanted to come over for dinner Friday night and he said yes. When I offered him a ride home he gave me directions to somewhere that I didn't think was where he lived. His family must have moved since his mother was my mother's office nurse. He didn't say very much, and when I asked him about his cat he got very agitated and put his head in his hands and started moaning, "Man, oh man, don't talk about Faustus." It was very sweet that he was so worried about his cat. I dropped him off and he said goodbye very fast and went directly to the garage.
It should be a quiet afternoon, at least here. Arne is going off to get drunk for St. Patrick's Day. Of course, he isn't actually celebrating St. Patrick's Day, he's just going to get plastered at the Three Kronen or wherever he hangs out in Milborough. He just left, giving me directions. "It's on the Swedish side of town," he said, "like the cheating side of town but next to the IKEA." I've got his car keys so at least he won't get arrested by Luggsworth this year at closing time. I just hope I won't get arrested for driving him back.