Claire marched up to the hostess desk at the Zombie Lab Restaurant. There was a sign that said Please Wait to be Eated. She would’ve laughed at that if she weren’t so intent on tracking Elvis. She needed to talk to him in the worst possible way. Since she last saw him things had gone haywire. Haywire, hell, she thought, they’d gone completely berserko. She needed Elvis to guide her, put her on the right path, tell her what to do. She felt like there was a war going on inside her body. An epic battle between her head and her heart.
Claire stood on tippy-toe and craned her neck, looking for Elvis. The restaurant fairly gleamed from its chrome industrial look and was packed to the gills with patrons. She spotted Elvis standing over by the bar. She plowed through the people like a hound dog on the scent of a oppossum.
Hound dog. Claire giggled. Hound dog, Elvis. She giggled more.
Claire walked up behind Elvis and began talking. The words tumbled out in one long breath, “Elvis, I’m so glad I found you. I was wondering if you had forgotten about me? Look, I really need your help. Remember how you told me last time we talked to always let the one I love know that I love them? Well, that’s all well and good, but what if I don’t know who I love? I mean which person I love? Or what if I love them both but differently? Or what if they don’t love me back? Am I supposed to throw away a mediocre love that is a sure thing for the potential of a greater love? What if that greater love never happens or never loves me back? What if they’re my greater love but I’m only their mediocre love? Help me, please. Elvis, I’m so confused.” Claire sucked in a deep breath.
Elvis turned to face her. He was holding a tray of drinks in his hands. He had dark circles painted around his eyes and red make-up smeared around his mouth to make him look like a zombie who had recently eaten something bloody. “Hey, lady,” he said, “Chillax. I’m a waiter, not Dear Abby.” He walked away with the tray of drinks held high over his head.
*
Ollie and G-Ray were stoked. Even EZ looked like she was awake and having fun. They had staked out a table in the corner of the room and were gawking at the wait staff who were zombified versions of their more famous selves. Their waitress was Marilyn Monroe. She was a lot heavier than the actual Marilyn had been but that was probably normal. After all, you could only be dead for so long before the bloat set in.
Claire joined them at the table just as Marilyn Monroe walked away. She pulled out the empty chair and sat next to Ollie.
“I ordered you a diet cherry coke,” Ollie said, “It’s your favorite, right?”
“You remembered,” Claire said. She placed the napkin in her lap and accepted a menu from EZ.
Ollie beamed at her. Claire pretended to study the menu. Her mind was a whirling mess. That was the second time Ollie had remembered what she drank. Ollie’s attention made her feel all warm and gooey inside. Either that or her IBS was acting up.
G-Ray interrupted her train of thought by declaring, “My tocks are happy here, man. I think they have led me to Des Moines for a reason.”
“What’s so special about here?” EZ asked.
“For one thing, the girls don’t wear pants,” he said.
“What?” Claire said, swiveling around to see what G-Ray was seeing. “They have pants on. Those are tights. It’s all the rage to wear tights with a short jacket and boots now.”
“Since when?” EZ asked.
Claire shrugged. “Since like 2007.”
EZ eyes widened then rolled back in her head.
“Whoopsy,” Claire said.
EZ fell face forward. G-Ray managed to move her drink out of the way in the nick of time. They stared at EZ slumped over the table making ZZZZzzzzz noises.
G-Ray picked up the conversation right where it left off, “Dood, it looks like they’re just not wearing pants to me.”
“Fashion plate that you are,” Ollie said.
G-Ray said, “Look who’s talking. You’ve worn those shorts three days in a row.”
“Speaking of which, can we go shopping? This is a college town, there’s bound to be some great thrift stores,” Claire said. She waited for Ollie to put up a stink. She used to delicately hint to Ollie that maybe her wardrobe could use some sprucing up and was always met with a hurt expression or outright hostility.
Ollie smiled at Claire. “She’s right, G-Ray, let’s go shopping. We’ll let Claire pick out something respectable for us.”
Claire was flabbergasted. This was totally unlike the Ollie she used to know.
“As long as she doesn’t dress me in skinny jeans. I got way too much junk for those skinny jeans,” said G-Ray.
“G-Ray, really?” Claire said, dismissively. “Can we have one meal where we don’t have to talk about your tocks or your man stuff.”
“Actually, he does have an overabundance of man stuff,” Ollie said. “That’s why he wears baggy shorts all the time.”
“How do you know?” Claire said. She hoped in some moment of loneliness and depression that Ollie hadn’t slipped over to the other side once or twice.
“We’ve been friends for years. I’ve seen little G-Ray a time or two and, believe you me, little G-Ray ain’t so little,” Ollie said.
Marilyn Monroe arrived with their drinks. She leaned over and gazed at G-Ray’s crotch. “She speaks the truth.”
“Thanks,” G-Ray said.
“Ready to order?” Marilyn Monroe asked.
Claire had never really looked at G-Ray’s package. Maybe that’s why aliens picked him up. Because he was a super-sized specimen. Oh, God, what was happening to her? Was she really thinking about aliens and tocks as if they were real? She was becoming one of them. How would she ever explain all this to Scarlet? ‘Hi, honey, guess what we did today? We went to see a Nazi dominatrix, then to a café filled with zombies. We discussed G-Ray’s male equipment then I took them shopping at a thrift store. Oh, and by the way, I saw Elvis and had a nice long chat with him.’ Geez Louise, Scarlet would have a case of the shivering fits if she heard what was going on in her head.
“I’ll have the Walking Ched with a side of fries,” Ollie said.
“What about this one?” Marilyn Monroe asked, pointing her pencil at EZ.
“Get her a Trailer Trash burger and fries, but put it in a to-go box,” Ollie said.
G-Ray handed over his menu, saying, “I’ll have the They’re Coming to Get You, Barbara burger and the Plan Nine from Outerspace sandwich, a side of fries, and some mac-n-cheese. Oh, and another chocolate nutella marshmallow shake. For starters. I’ll decide on dessert later.”
Marilyn raised an eyebrow. “Impressive.”
“Gotta feed the big little guy,” G-Ray said.
Marilyn smiled at him. “I get off work at five.” She winked.
Claire flapped her menu shut and butted in, “I’ll have the Undead Elvis burger.”
Ollie stared at her, big-eyed. “You’re not going healthy? What will Scarlet say?”
“Scarlet doesn’t have to know everything,” Claire declared and immediately felt better for saying it.
“Fries with that?” Marilyn asked.
“Sure,” Claire said, “Why not?” This breaking the rules thing was starting to feel pretty good.
As Marilyn sashayed off, G-Ray said, “I’m definitely getting one of their souvenir T-shirts.” He pointed to the display by the cash register. There were several T-shirts with zombie-esque sayings silk-screened on the front: Please wait to be eated. Zombie Café - They’re dying to get in. Zombies are people too. Zombies love you for what’s inside. Zombies like big brains and they cannot lie.
“Me, too,” Ollie said. “I’ll even get one for EZ. You in, Claire?”
“Why not,” Claire said. “We’ll be team Zombie.”
“That’s the spirit,” Ollie said.
Claire giggled. She was feeling a lot better suddenly. She didn’t know if it was because of the Advil or because she was secretly defying Scarlet. Maybe it was both.
Goodwill Hunting
; After they ate and stowed the sleeping EZ in the van, G-Ray, Ollie and Claire walked down the block to the Goodwill store. Ollie was bound and determined to find some clothes that Claire liked, but that didn’t make her feel like she was selling out to the Man. It was a tall order.
Ollie felt like she was in direct competition now with Scarlet. She knew she couldn’t compete with Scarlet’s job or money or name brand clothes. She also couldn’t compete with Scarlet’s youth or teeth-whitening or Botox or plastic surgery or liposuctions. The only thing she had that Scarlet didn’t was a sense of fun. So, by God, she was going to find a wardrobe that absolutely reeked of fun with a capital F.
While Ollie thumbed through the hanging clothes, G-Ray came out of the changing room and stood before her and Claire. He was poured into a pair of red vinyl pants.
Ollie whistled. “Wow. I love the Loverboy look.”
Claire said, “I think he looks more like The Knack. Or maybe Stray Cats.”
“I’m single-handedly going to bring vinyl back,” G-Ray said.
“You’re not seriously going to wear those out in public, are you?” Claire said.
“Just to fancy places,” G-Ray said. “These will be my dress pants. I’m still looking for something a little more every day.” He turned around and shook his butt in their direction. “How do the tocks look?”
“I’m not the best person to be asking,” Claire said. “I usually only notice women’s butts.”
“So use your imagination,” G-Ray said. “Pretend I’m a female of the species.”
“Okay,” Claire said. She squinted at G-Ray’s backside. “Your butt looks like Olivia Newton John in Grease when she becomes the bad chick.”
“Yes!” G-Ray said, pumping his fist. He strode away, obviously happy with the comparison.
When Claire turned back around, Ollie was holding up a pair of tuxedo pants. She smiled widely at Claire. “How about these?”
Claire pursed her lips and studied the pants.
Ollie’s heart sank. She knew Claire was going to chastise her sense of fashion. Okay, her sense of no-fashion. Or should that be her non-sense of fashion?
“I like them,” Claire finally said.
“You do?”
Claire ran to a clothing rack and began to pull shirts off and hand them to Ollie. “They’ll look great with these T-shirts.” She tossed a Scooby-Doo, Batman and Wonder woman T-shirt at Ollie.
“For real?” Ollie said. “You’re not making fun of me?”
“For real,” Claire said.
Ollie grabbed a purple wool beret off the shelf. “This looks like you. Try it on.” She tossed it to Claire.
Claire put the beret on her head, struck a pose and sucked in her cheeks like a European model. “Voulez vous coucher avec moi?”
“Oui oui!” Ollie said.
They laughed. Claire took off the beret and they stood looking at each other for a long moment. Ollie knew it was one of those deciding moments. Claire could fall back in love with her and Ollie knew it. Well, maybe she didn’t know it as much as she hoped it. She felt her face heat up and knew she was blushing. And not from embarrassment, either. She was blushing from the heat of the moment.
Claire turned and walked up to the cash register. She put the beret on the counter and said, “Do you all take American Express?”
Ollie sighed. The deciding moment had come and gone and she didn’t have a clue what was decided. But at least Claire was buying the beret. That had to mean something, right?
Ollie Speaks
The camera focused on Ollie.
“I did my homework. I wrote down all the things I like about Claire.” She showed a piece of unlined paper filled with her chicken scrawl to the camera. “In no particular order: Tits. Eyes. Hair. I like the way she smells like tropical suntan lotion except it’s not suntan lotion. It’s like her body manufactures the smell on its own. I like her body. I like her sense of humor. The one she had before Scarlet. Scarlet stole her sense of humor and replaced it with, I don’t know, a sense of designer shoes or something. I like the way when she got scared watching a movie she would hide behind her hands and peek through her fingers. I liked the way she ate her hamburgers in a circular fashion. You know, rotating it around in a circle, nibbling until it got smaller and smaller. I thought that was cute. I liked how she wanted to make love every time it rained. She said that was Mother Nature’s way of telling us to go back to bed. I used to love thunderstorms. I loved the way she kissed me every night before falling asleep.”
Ollie held up another piece of paper. “This is a list of everything I dislike about Claire. The sea cow doctor didn’t say to do it, but I thought I should, you know, for balance.”
She looked down at the paper and read, “I hate the way she always has to have the last word in an argument. I hate that she thinks money and social status is more important than love. I hate that she got a nose job when her nose was fine to begin with. I hate that she fell in love with Scarlet. I hate that…” Ollie’s voice cracked. She took a deep, shaky breath and willed herself not to cry. “I hate that she doesn’t love me anymore.”
Roses Are Red
Ollie stared at the dozen red roses malevolently. Fucking Scarlet. Every time Ollie thought she was making headway with Claire, Scarlet ruined it by doing something sweet, like sending these roses. Ollie was alone in the house or she probably wouldn’t have done what she did. EZ was still sleeping. G-Ray had left the house wearing his red vinyl pants and a silly grin. Ollie assumed that meant he had a hot date with Marilyn Monroe. Claire was at the library doing God-knows-what, getting something to read, Ollie supposed.
Maybe Claire was going to try reading herself to sleep. Ollie knew she wasn’t sleeping well because Ollie herself was not sleeping well. They’d take turns wandering around the house, careful not to run into each other. Ollie didn’t know why they were avoiding each other in the night. She supposed it was because that was the one time when they were truly alone with each other and they were afraid of that.
Ollie was working on a new surfboard design featuring her van with a surfboard on top. She was putting the Des Moines skyline in the background. It was turning out pretty good, she thought. She had gig with a website that took some of her designs, tweaked them a little and paid her accordingly. It wasn’t an always for sure kind of gig but they liked most of her stuff and her graphic designs skills improved with each submission. She never told anyone but G-Ray about her sideline. She was still sensitive about her abilities. She didn’t want people to make fun of her. Especially people like Scarlet and Claire. They’d think it was another one of her pipe dreams – another way to avoid getting a real job.
She was in that happy place artists call “the zone” when the doorbell rang. It seemed an odd interruption. The neighbor lady had come and gone. Oscar and Meyer were curled up at her feet. She didn’t know anybody in town so Ollie figured it was a Jehovah’s Witness or a teenager selling magazines to win a trip to Timbuktu or wherever. If she ignored the bell, they’d go away.
The fifth time the bell rang Ollie realized they weren’t going away. She threw open the door, revealing a guy with exceptionally tall hair. It was the tallest hair Ollie had ever seen. She was so engrossed with his hair height that she didn’t notice the box at first.
“Flower delivery. Is there a Claire Drummond at this residence?” he asked in a bored-to- tears tone of voice.
“Um…” Ollie hedged. She connected the dots and realized the flower delivery had to be for Claire which meant they had to be from her arch-nemesis, Scarlet. “Um…” she said again.
“It’s a simple question,” the kid said. “It requires a yes or no answer. You have a fifty- fifty chance of getting it right.”
“She’s here, but she’s not here,” Ollie answered.
The kid nodded his head. “I see. It’s like a riddle, right?”
“No riddle,” Ollie said. “She’ll be back soon. Do you want me to sign for them?”
“Nah
, that’s okay,” he said. He thrust the long box into her arms and walked away. Halfway down the sidewalk, he stopped and turned back. He poked his thumb toward her van in the driveway. “Is that yours?”
Ollie nodded. “It’s not for sale. I’ve had that van forever. I’ll never sell.”
“Radical,” he said. “Totally awesome artwork on it. You surf, huh?”
“Since before you were born,” she said.
“Awesome. We’re like related.”
“What d’ya mean?”
“I snowboard. You know, snowboarding has its roots in surfing. That makes you like my great great grandma or something,” he said.
“I’m not that old. Let’s be cousins instead.”
“You coming out to Sleepy Hollow? You gotta do the pipe, man.”
“The pipe?”
“The half pipe. It’s like riding a wave.”
“Really?” Ollie said. She was intrigued. “What’s Sleepy Hollow?”
“Only the best place to snowboard in the world, well not exactly the world but in Des Moines at least,” the kid amended. “I work there part time. Come out and I’ll hook you up.”
“Maybe I will,” Ollie said.
“Cool, I wanna see you shredding out there.”
She watched him go. She scowled at the box and took it inside. Fucking Scarlet. Ollie had never thought to send Claire flowers. She’d never even considered that Claire liked flowers. Setting the box on the table she considered her options. The box was not taped shut so after a moment’s compunction she opened it. Sure as shit, it contained a dozen perfectly exquisite red roses. She plucked one out and stuck her finger on a thorn. That pissed her off even more.
She went to the sink and ran cold water over her finger. She wrapped a paper towel around her injury. Turning off the faucet she noticed the garbage disposal. Quickly, before she could think herself out of it, she flipped the switch, grabbed a single rose out of the box and fed it into the churning jaws of the disposal.
“Dood, are you feeling all right?” G-Ray said.
Crazy Little Thing Page 15
