Better Living Through GRAVY and Other Oddities

by Isa-Lee Wolf

Revision Actualization Vector."

  "That's 'Grav.'"

  "I know."

  "Where's the 'Y' come from?"

  "Yay," Ida said quietly.

  "That's a little forced, don't you think?"

  "It's more reassuring than 'Grav,' wouldn't you say?"

  Toni considered, and then found herself nodding. "I guess so."

  "Besides, it never hurts to be enthusiastic." She raised her hands about ear level, made loose fists and jogged them slightly upward a few times. "Yay," she said again.

  "And you want me to entrust you with my genes?" Toni said, her focus on a short woman rushing toward them. "Didn't you say you were a psychiatrist?"

  "Among other things. I'm versatile. Besides, it's only a few genes," she said, "it's not that big a deal. After all you probably have around 30,000 of them."

  "Ida, oh Ida," said the woman as she closed in. "Yoo-hoo, Ida."

  Ida did a deliberate double-take. "Oh Dot. What a surprise. A shocking surprise, I might say," she said woodenly.

  "Ida, what luck running into you on the street. I wanted to thank you so much for GRAVY. My height reduction was a complete success." She smoothed her lips outward and upward into something like a school-picture smile.

  "What a random encounter demonstrating the power of GRAVY," said Ida. "I am so glad that you are enjoying the results of your procedure." Ida's forced grin matched that of Dot's.

  "Yes," said Dot without moving her lips, "it's everything I ever wanted."

  The women simultaneously turned to Toni, and took an out-of-sync bow. "Of course," Ida said, her head still downward, "not even GRAVY can change height." She straightened. "This has been a dramatic reenactment of what could happen if it could."

  Dot stood awkwardly next to her, still with the pasted grin. "Can I go yet?" she said through her gapped-teeth.

  "Yes, great job, see you later," said Ida quickly. "So what do you think?"

  "Your little play aside--

  "Dramatic reenactment."

  "Whatever," Toni said, looking at Ida sideways, "I still don't get it."

  Ida's eyes took on a light. "You don't need the plastic surgery," she said. "You don't need a tube shoved under your skin, vacuuming out the fat--"

  Toni dropped a shade behind her bottled tan. "It's OK, you don't have to go so graphic."

  "But that's thing. Surgery is brutal, archaic. What I'm offering you," she leaned closer, and this time, Toni didn't back away, "what I'm offering you," she said more slowly, "is art. Art through GRAVY."

  "I don't understand how it works."

  Ida took a step backward. "We seem to be having some miscommunication here. I told you, it's all in the name." She flicked her wrist to look at a non-existent watch. "Oh dear, I always seem to forget the silly thing. I'm sure I'm going to have to get going."

  "Could you explain again?"

  Ida started to walk up the street, and Toni followed. Ida abruptly stopped and faced her. "It's simple," she said, "I tweak a few genes, and no more cellulite."

  "None?"

  "None. This is my car," she said, squeezing around Toni to the driver's door of the huge old Buick.

  "Ever?"

  "Ever. Your body won't make fat."

  "At all."

  "Right," she said, only able to open the car door a third of the way without bumping the next car. She finagled herself into the opening.

  "And you say it works? You've done it before?"

  "Just ask Dot," she said. She sat in the velvet seat and pulled her seatbelt across. She shut the door. Toni said something muted by the glass. Ida vigorously cranked the window down. "Sorry, didn't hear that."

  "I said, 'You said that was made-up.'"

  Ida's eyeballs craned high toward her forehead, her lips tightly pressed. Eventually she nodded. "That's true, I did say that."

  "Wait, if you only heard me talking to Doreen today, how did you have time to plan your--"

  "Reenactment."

  "Yeah."

  "I hardly think that's important," Ida said, jamming the key into the ignition.

  "But how?"

  "Utterly irrelevant to the issue at hand." She turned the key and the motor ground to life, panting unevenly. "Wouldn't you say?"

  "Not really."

  Ida shrugged. "What are you going to do?" she said rhetorically. "See you in class Thursday."

  Toni bent in toward the window, using her hand for leverage. "So you haven't used it on anyone."

  "Officially, then no," she said. "Sorry, I'm running late. And my neck's at this awkward angle."

  "You say no fat at all?" Toni said, her hand still resting on the window frame.

  "That's what I said." Ida's foot tapped the brake, and the lights flashed red on the pavement behind the car. She gently tapped Toni's hand and then made a flicking motion with her fingers. "I've really got to go," she said. Toni withdrew her hand slowly, still standing in the space between the cars.

  "Do you have a card?" she said.

  Ida held one toward her, between her fingers, and smiled. "Now we're cooking," she said.

  The Guild of Imaginary Animals

  "I've been made, people, I've been made," Dave said. "Photographs and everything."

  "Can't you push the Photoshop angle?"

  "I can't."

  "Why not?"

  "They tagged me." The okapi's head shook sadly side to side. "They tagged me. That's it, I'm official now."

  Sasquatch lumbered over, using a knuckle every third step or so. "Sorry, Dave," he said, laying a huge furry hand on the okapi's back.

  "They got photos of me, too," Nessie said, her smirk showing teeth two feet back. She circled the small inlet, her head forward, toward the shore. "Decades ago. And they're still talking about whether they're real."

  "It's not the same," came a voice from off to the side, not aimed in their direction. They saw only the profile of his long head and sharp ears, his fur bristling upward despite the warm day. Head now over his shoulder, he hissed though his long canine teeth, then spoke again. "And you all know it."

  "Spike," said the unicorn, always one to keep things cheery, "come on now."

  "He was tagged," said the chupacabra. "Tagged. They have a little microchip recording every move. There's no mystery after that. No scientist debunking the viral video. He's official."

  "Glub blug," said someone from below the water's surface.

  "You know they can't hear you if you don't talk into the tube, Coelo."

  The fish cleared what passed for his throat. "I said I know how he feels. You all said we could still hang out, but now I barely see you-"

  "Most of us live on land, Coelo,"

  "Well, still."

  "Besides, we have to be careful," Nessie said.

  "You know," when he was agitated, Ceolo couldn't stop the bubbles from forming as he spoke, "no one ever talks about the centuries they thought I was extinct. No, one lazy cousin gets caught by one random fisherman--"

  Everyone else made deliberate eye-contact above the water. "Maybe we should stick to the issue in front of us," said the unicorn, "if no one minds."

  A long horn poked out of the water, followed by a rounded head. "I agree with Celo," said Dennis.

  "I thought we were moving on?" Nessie looked around for support and found none.

  Dennis continued. "I mean, they have tours now to look at me. From mythical to tours. It's humiliating. You really need your friends at a time like this."

  "There's just the thing," Nessie said, curling her body slightly away from the narwhale.

  "See?" he said. "See? This is what I'm talking about. Always edging away."

  "We all know they're kind of stupid," she continued, shooting the narwhale a glare that probably could turn sailors to stone, "but they still may figure out that if they follow you-"

  "They'll find you guys?" Dave said. "That's nice."

  "But true," said Spike. The narwhale eyed him closely, or as closely as he could from the water.
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br />   "You know something," he said.

  "No I don't." Spike edged away from the group.

  The narwhale turned his head. "Come to think of it, there've been a lot of reports of you lately. On real news channels."

  "So?"

  "So," said the unicorn, dropping her happy tone, "it's interesting that you're not the one who got made."

  "It happens," said Spike. They stared at him. "It does," he said.

  "You sold him out, didn't you?" The voice was so pure, so magical, so beautiful, they all stayed where they stood or swam, unable to move from the weight of it. "Oh give it a rest, people," said Roberta, languidly flapping her tail against the surface of the water. "It's just me. You've heard me talk a million times."

  "Sorry," said the Sasquatch, blushing a bit, "gets us every time."

  "But my point."

  "Fine." Spike snarled, then regained his composure. "Fine. You got me. I turned him in. Legendary isn't something you can take lightly." He stalked back and forth, his shoulders angular through his skin and fur, "you have to protect it."

  "But-"

  "But what, Sunshine?" he said to the unicorn.

  "My name is Sunsteen," she said. "Sunsteen. Geez, you'd think you'd get it by now."

  "It doesn't matter," said the okapi. "The damage is done. I'm doomed to forever be the one at the zoo the kids point at and say, 'Mommy, what happened to the rest of that zebra's stripes?'"

  Dave sighed.

  "Well," said Nessie, "I don't want to rush you, but-"

  "Nessie," said Sunsteen.

  "What? He's been tagged. You know elf hidden enchantment spells aren't what they used to be. It's not like they have a warranty or anything these days."

  "Yeah," said Dave sadly, "I guess I'd better hit the road."

  "We'll see each other," Roberta offered him a hollow smile, "as much as before. More, even."

  "I'm still waiting on lunch," said the narwhale.

  "My schedule's really booked."

  "Right."

  "Ok." Dave took a few steps toward the Arc of