A group of older nuns were playing charades.
Another nun walked around with a tray of communion wafers over her head, handing them out like hors d’oeuvres.
Sister Helena slow danced with a mop in the corner.
The entire dining hall was chaos. Dirty dishes stacked precariously on tables, cats squawking and squalling and strolling among the mess. Mother Superior was face down in a plate of spaghetti.
It wasn’t pretty.
“What the fuck?” Willy whispered.
“Am I hallucinating?” Sister Peaches asked Willy. “Did we smoke too much?”
Allistair spotted Willy and ran across the dining room, skidding to a stop right in front of her. She was all smiles. “Willy, Willy, Willy, I’m so glad you’re here. I saved you a plate of spaghetti.”
“I’m not hungry,” Willy said. “What’s going on here?”
“Oh, but you have to eat,” Allistair insisted. “It’s so yummy and fun.”
Willy knitted her eyebrows. “Since when is spaghetti fun?”
Allistair shrugged. “Since I made it, I guess.”
Willy noticed a green leaf poking out from under Allistair’s wimple. She plucked it out. “What’s this?”
“Oh, that’s some oregano. I put a bunch of it in the spaghetti sauce. It made it yummier and funner.”
“I bet it did,” Willy said.
Sister Peaches clasped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to hide her giggles. She skipped away, leaving Allistair and Willy alone. Willy couldn’t hold it in anymore. She broke into guffaws.
“What?” Allistair asked. “What’s so funny?”
“This isn’t oregano. It’s pot.”
“Pot?”
“As in marijuana.”
Allistair’s eyes grew wide. She turned and looked at the dining room of nuns. “You mean they’re all… stoned up?”
Willy laughed. “That pretty much sums it up, yeah.”
“That explains so much.” Allistair looked back to Willy. “Am I all stoned up, too?”
“Yep.”
“I don’t believe you,” Allistair said. “I’ve never been stoned up before, but I would know if I was.”
“Let me give you a test,” Willy said.
“Okay.”
“Are you hungry? Even though you ate?”
“Yes.”
“Do colors appears brighter and smells smellier?”
“Yes.”
“Is everything funny? Have you been laughing a lot?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sexually attracted to me?”
“Ye --” Allistair caught herself. She squinted one eye at Willy and said, “No, definitely not. Never. I am so not attracted to you. I’m horny, yes, but not for you. Not no how, not no way.”
“Methinks you doth protest too much,” Willy said, grinning.
Suddenly, Allistair grabbed Willy by the elbow and pulled her in close.
“Aha,” Willy said, “So you do want me.”
“Sshhh,” Allistair said. “Follow me.”
Allistair pulled Willy toward the kitchen.
“Are we going to have sex now? You can’t wait till we go to bed? You have to have some of this right now?” Willy asked, trailing along behind her.
Allistair opened the swinging kitchen door and pulled Willy into the kitchen.
“Are we going to do it on the counter or on the floor?” Willy asked.
Allistair began to look around the kitchen, opening cupboards, looking under tables and behind doors.
Willy continued blathering, “I’d rather do it on the floor. The counter thing looks good in the movies but in real life it’s awkward and it hurts. And you have to factor in the splinter factor. Of course, the floor isn’t much better. It’s hard and not very sanitary. What kind of sex did you want to have? I mean we could play it by ear and be organic or we could go into it knowing exactly what we wanted to do to each other. You choose. I’m easy. Ladies’ choice.”
“Will you shut up for a moment?” Allistair whispered harshly. She marched over next to Willy and whispered in her ear. “I saw two suspicious individuals out there. They walked in the door and started sneaking around.”
“What do you mean by suspicious?” Willy whispered back.
“They were dressed as nuns. But one had an Adam’s apple, the other had hairy knuckles, and the other one had a hideous scar on his cheek.”
“His? You mean you saw three men?”
Allistair nodded. “They were dressed as nuns.”
“You sure you’re not imagining things?” Willy asked. “A lot of nuns have high testosterone levels.”
“You don’t believe me? Look for yourself.”
Willy walked over to the kitchen door and opened it a crack. She peeked into the dining room. Sure enough, three male-like nuns were strutting around the room, looking each nun over. “Shit, you’re right,” Willy said. “And they look like Italians. Like mafiosa. I bet they’re looking for us.”
“Oh, crap,” What do we do?”
“We make a run for it,” Willy said. “We get out of this convent and find a way to contact the U.S. Marshals.”
They grabbed each other’s hand and turned…
… smashing nose-first into a big chest. Willy looked up into the ugliest face she’d ever seen. Her mind slowed down to 78 rpm and her one and only thought was, “That’s the murderer I saw shoot that man and, oh shit, he’s going to kill me.”
“Going somewhere, ladies?” the ugly-faced killer asked.
All Hell Breaks Loose
“You’re him!” Willy blathered. “You’re the murderer.”
“And youse two are coming with me,” he said. He grabbed both Willy and Allistair by the back of their necks.
Allistair reared back and let loose with a kick to his groin. Her foot connected solidly with his nuts, making a noise like two plums being squished under a pair of combat boots. The mobster dropped to his knees, cupping his crushed plums and squeaking.
Allistair and Willy backed up. The fallen mobster blocked the door. The two other mobsters were outside the other door. They were trapped inside the kitchen.
The mobster reached inside his jacket and pulled out a gun. It was the biggest fucking gun Willy had ever seen. She reflexively stepped between the gun and Allistair. “Please…” she said.
The mobster raised his gun and aimed right at Willy’s head. “I hope youse said your prayers,” he said.
“Hold it, Angelo,” a voice said.
Willy looked to her right and saw Sister Helena. She was aiming a pistol at the mobster. “You shoot those nuns and I blow your head to Kingdom Come.”
“Gina?” the mobster Angelo said. “That you?”
“You bet your sweet ass, it’s me, Angelo,” Sister Helena said.
“You wouldn’t shoot me,” Angelo said. But his voice didn’t sound as sure as his words.
“You know me,” Sister Helena said. “I don’t care if we was romantically involved, Angelo, I’d still blow your head off and eat your nuts for a snack.”
“Eww, gross,” Allistair muttered.
“Why do you want to help these two? What are they to you?” Angelo asked. “You gone all lesbo on me?”
Sister Helena looked at Willy and Allistair, but kept her gun aimed at Angelo. “There’s a back door to this kitchen. Use it. Follow Ernest, he’ll show you the way out.”
Willy nodded. “Thanks.” She grabbed Allistair’s hand and they ran for the back of the kitchen.
***
Willy and Allistair burst through the double swinging doors and found themselves in a dimly lit corridor. Willy looked both ways. She was discombobulated. Which way should they go? She didn’t have to worry long. Ernest raced into the hallway and skidded to a stop right in front of them.
“Need some help?” Ernest asked.
“Can you get us out of here alive?” Willy asked.
“Follow me,” Ernest said. He raced back down the hallway.
Willy and Allistair chased after the white blur of fur.
They ran for what seemed like forever. Willy was short of breath and beginning to re-think her life strategy of never exercising. She thought exercising, jogging in particular, made your body wear out faster. She had wanted her muscles and joints to retain the elasticity of a newborn. Or at least a teenager. Now she was realizing that never exercising was going to be the death of her.
Willy stopped and bent over at the waist, hands on her knees, and tried to catch her breath. Her lungs wheezed as loudly as one of those old-timey bellows that blacksmiths used to fan a fire.
“Can’t… breathe… going… to die…” Willy huffed.
Allistair turned in a circle. “Where’d that cat go? We lost him!”
“How come you’re not out of breath?” Willy wheezed.
“I was cross country champion of my college and I exercise daily,” Allistair said.
“No… shit,” Willy said. She stood up straight, clutching her side.
“Psstttt!”
Willy jumped. She took a few stumbling steps forward and heard it again. “Psssttt!”
“There he is!” Allistair said. She pointed into the deep shadows to their right. Two yellow cat eyes glowed in the dark.
“Follow me!” Ernest said. “Through the catacombs. And try to keep up this time.”
“You sure you know the way?” Willy asked.
“Does a Pope shit in the woods?”
“I think the saying is a bear. ‘Does a bear shit in the woods?’”
“Whatever. Do you want to live or not?” Ernest replied.
“C’mon” Willy said to Allistair. “Follow Ernest into the catacombs.”
“Were you just talking to that cat?” Allistair asked.
“Yes, but I don’t have time to explain.” Willy pushed Allistair into the darkness. “Be careful going down the stairs.”
“Talking cats,” Allistair muttered to herself. “I really am stoned up.”
Cat-A-Combs
“Talk about dark,” Willy said. “You think they’d put in a nightlight or two.”
Willy and Allistair were bumping along the catacombs. The dim tunnels were nothing more than an underground maze of varying height.
Willy bumped her head on the ceiling. “Ow. Shit.”
“Are we still following that cat?” Allistair asked.
“Please ask your lady friend to not refer to me as that cat,” Ernest said.
“Tell her yourself,” Willy said.
“Tell who?” Allistair asked.
“Never mind,” Willy responded. She bumped her head again. “Shit!”
“This is all your fault,” Allistair said. She stumbled and Willy caught her. For a moment, their noses were touching. And if their noses were touching, it meant that their lips weren’t that far apart. Allistair spoiled the moment by jerking out of Willy’s arms.
“Underground tunnels are my fault?” Willy asked.
“If you hadn’t posed as someone you weren’t, then we wouldn’t have witnessed the biggest mob murder in history and we wouldn’t be stumbling along in a stinky catacomb following a weird cat.”
“Hey! I find that offensive,” Ernest interjected.
“Don’t take it personally,” Willy said.
“How can I not take ‘weird cat’ personally?”
“Maybe she was referring to me. I’m a weird cat. As in ‘She’s one weird cat, Daddy-O,’” Willy said.
Allistair said, “Are you talking to the cat again?”
“Yeah,” Willy said. “Turn left here.”
“I hope this cat knows where we’re going.”
“He knows.”
“What’s that smell?” Allistair asked.
“It wasn’t me. Maybe Ernest farted.”
“I do not fart,” Ernest said.
“No, this is different,” Allistair said.
“Different how?”
Allistair sniffed. “It smells dead.”
“It’s rats,” Ernest said. “There are a lot of dead rats down here.”
“Great,” Willy said. “Just fucking great.”
There was a long silence. Allistair padded along behind Willy’s heavy footsteps as she followed behind Ernest’s light steps.
“We aren’t going to die, are we?” Allistair said in a teeny voice.
“I’m not planning on it,” Willy answered.
Ernest turned right and they followed.
“I’m afraid we’re going to die,” Allistair said.
“We’re not going to die,” Willy said.
Another left, another right.
“Yes, we are. We’re going to die,” Allistair said with a sob.
Willy backtracked. She pulled Allistair into her arms. She wanted to reassure her that they weren’t going to die, but to be honest, Willy wasn’t so sure herself. The odds weren’t in their favor. They were trapped underground in a dark labyrinth and above ground a bunch of mobsters were waiting with their violin cases filled with Tommy Guns. Shit, Willy thought, I shouldn’t have watched all those black and white mobster movies. Willy racked her brain trying to remember a movie where the good guys came out alive. She couldn’t think of single one. Why did Hollywood always do that? Mobster movies always showed things from the mobster’s point of view and…
Allistair interrupted, “Willy?”
“Yes?”
“Will you kiss me?”
“Kiss you?”
“If we’re facing certain death I don’t want to leave any stone unturned,” Allistair explained. “What if you’re my one true love and I don’t know it and we both die a horrible death and then we go to the afterlife and find out we were soul mates but we didn’t recognize it and…”
Willy pressed her lips against Allistair’s and kissed her. As soon as their lips met, Willy knew that she could die right now and die happy. She had an overwhelming desire to hold Allistair in her arms and kiss her all night long. And she would have, too, if she hadn’t heard the footsteps racing toward them.
“Shit,” Willy said, pulling out of the kiss. “They’re coming.”
She turned and ran, dragging Allistair along with her.
Cat Scratch Fever
Willy and Allistair followed Ernest around another corner. Ernest stopped in his tracks. Willy stopped right behind him. Allistair didn’t get the memo and ran into Willy. Willy stepped on Ernest’s tail. He yowled. It couldn’t be helped. Willy knew it was an involuntary yowl. But the yowl did them in. It revealed their location to the mobsters. They knew this because they heard feet suddenly change direction and run toward them.
“Holy fucking shit!” Willy muttered. “They’re headed right for us.”
“Which way do we go now?” Allistair said.
“We go forward. There’s no other option,” Ernest said. “Follow me.” He ran off.
“He said to follow him,” Willy whispered.
“Who?” Allistair whispered back.
“Ernest. The cat,” Willy said. “C’mon!”
They ran. Willy could see a vague outline of a door up ahead. “Bingo! There’s a door!” They rushed toward the door. Light streamed in around its cracks and for the first time they could see each other.
“Stop!” Ernest yelled.
Willy suddenly stopped. Allistair smacked into her back.
“Can you please stop stopping like that? At least give me a warning!” Allistair hissed.
“It’s not my fault!” Willy hissed back.
“Stop arguing!” Ernest said. He paced before the door. “There’s a person outside this door. He smells like pepperoni.”
“Another mobster,” Willy and Allistair said at the same time.
“They’re trying to flush us out and right into their trap,” Willy said. “Fuck me. Ernest, what are we going to do?”
“The door locks from the inside. He can’t get in unless we open it,” Ernest said.
“What then?” Willy asked.
“We fight.”
“Are you talking to that cat again?” Allistair asked.
“He says we have to fight,” Willy said.
“Fight with what?” Allistair said.
“Yeah, fight with what?” Willy asked Ernest.
“Claws,” Ernest said.
“He said to use your claws,” Willy said to Allistair.
“Screw that,” Allistair said. “I’m using my shoes.”
“Shoes?” Willy said. “What the hell are shoes going to do?”
Allistair slipped off her tennis shoes. She quickly tied the long laces together. “Back up,” she said.
Willy obediently pressed her back against the door.
Allistair whipped the shoes around in front of her and over her head like a pair of lethal nunchuks.
“Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?” Willy asked, unable to keep the amazement out of her voice.
“YouTube,” Allistair said.
The footsteps were closer now. Allistair stood by the corner and pressed her back against the wall. She held her homemade nunchuks at the ready.
“Pick me up,” Ernest said to Willy.
“Sorry, but I’m allergic to cats,” Willy said.
“If you want to live, you’ll pick me up,” Ernest replied.
But before Willy could pick him up, a mobster dressed like a nun ran around the corner. Allistair was ready for him. She spun her shoes in a blindingly fast circle and clobbered the mobster in the face. He grabbed his nose, said something that sounded like “What the fuck” and collapsed face-first at Allistair’s bare feet.
Before they could celebrate, the second mobster rounded the corner with his nun habit flying like a cape. Ernest meowed loudly, sprang into the air, landed on Willy’s head and from that launching point, hurled himself, feet first, claws extended. He hit the second mobster’s face and hung on like a big furry leech. The mobster reeled in circles, blindly careening and crashing into the corridor walls. Finally, Allistair put him out of his misery with a solid blow to the back of his head with a karate chop.
Willy figured she’d seen that move on YouTube as well. He fell on top of the first mobster.
“Two down, one to go,” Willy said. “Anybody have a plan for this last guy outside the door?”
Kiss & Tell Page 12
