Critical Failures VII

by Robert Bevan

  “I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir.” He pronounced sir in such a way as to make plain that it was nothing more than a formality.

  “I can't wait to fucking leave, Fuckface! That happens after we make the exchange. Now, if you can't figure out how to put burritos in a bag, maybe you should get your supervisor over here. I'll take this all the way up to the goddamn chihuahua if I have to.”

  “Sir, if you don't leave, I'm going to have to call the police.”

  “The police?” It was amazing that Tim's voice could get any higher. “Look out the window, Shithead! We are the fucking police!”

  A curly-haired man with a headset and a fast-food-manager mustache poked his head out of the window. When he saw the car, his eyes went wide with surprise. He quickly pulled his head back in.

  “I apologize,” said the speaker. His tone was more annoyed and resigned than apologetic. “Your total is forty-two dollars and sixty-five cents. Please pull up to the first window.”

  “You know,” said Dave as Officer Williams pulled forward. “We could have been out of here a lot quicker if you hadn't been such an asshole.”

  “That's your problem, Dave. You let people walk all over you and you never stand up for yourself. You take shit, and people are just going to shovel more shit on you. If you ever want any respect, you've got to start shoveling shit right back at them.”

  Dave laughed. “You think these Taco Bell employees respect you now?”

  “They're Taco Bell employees. Why should I give a shit what they think about me?”

  “If you didn't give a shit what they think, we would have gotten our burritos a long time ago.”

  Tim glared at him and was about to respond when the window opened.

  “That's forty-two sixty-five,” said Ron, the manager.

  Officer Williams turned to Tim.

  As much of a dick as he'd been being, Tim now looked bashful and embarrassed.

  “I'm sorry. We left our wallets in our other bodies.”

  Ron didn't seem to even notice all the blood on Officer Williams, but he scowled at Tim when he recognized his voice.

  Officer Williams sighed. “I suppose this one's on me.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn leather wallet, then passed a credit card to Ron.

  “Your coins are flat and rectangular?” asked Vaeryn. “What is that made of? It looks so insubstantial.”

  “That's a credit card,” Dave explained, hoping to get back in Vaeryn's good graces, or at least cut through some of the awkwardness between them. “It's like a promise to pay later.”

  She eyed him like he was licking a pair of balls that had just sprouted down from his nose. “That can't be right.” The crinkle of paper bags drew her attention back to her window. “What is in those bags?”

  “That's our food.”

  “Impossible!” said Vaeryn. “We have only just ordered it. No one can prepare food that fast.”

  Dave shrugged. “That's why it's called fast food. That's kind of the point.”

  “It smells... delicious.” Her voice was less filled with vitriol as she stared longingly at the bags through the barrier that separated the front seats from the rear. Then her attention was drawn back to the window. She glared at Dave. “Why is he giving back the credit card? The promise has not yet been honored.”

  “He has a machine which scans the card for the owner's information and communicates with the lender who sponsors the –”

  “Jesus Christ, Dave,” said Tim as Officer Williams pulled away. “This is her first day in a new world, and you're making it as boring as fucking possible.”

  “I was just –”

  “You can drone on about the wonders of credit later. Right now we've got to find some place to lay low until midnight.”

  That seemed obvious enough to Dave. “What about the Chicken Hut?”

  Tim glared at him through the barrier like he was pissing down the well on Baby Jessica. “Where's that, Dave? I've never heard of it.”

  For a second, Dave wondered if Tim had suffered some kind of memory loss, then suddenly understood. If they ever made it back here in their own bodies, it probably wasn't a good idea to give the cop they'd taken hostage clues as to who they really were.

  Shit. Think of something to fix this.

  “Just some old shithole chicken restaurant that closed down a couple of months ago. It's on Highway 90, by the Waffle House. I used to pass it every day on my way to work at the oil refinery.” It couldn't hurt to sprinkle in a bit of false information about himself.

  “I know the place,” said Officer Williams. “We busted some folks there last month. They'd turned the place into a meth lab.”

  “They did what?” shrieked Tim. His tone and expression did little to back up his story that he was unfamiliar with the place. He quickly caught himself. “I mean, did they learn nothing of the dangers of running such an enterprise from Breaking Bad? What a senseless waste of potential.”

  “Do you still want to go there?”

  Tim nodded. “Sure. One place is as good as another when we're just looking to kill time. And that place sounds like it would be pretty secluded.”

  “What's a meth lab?” asked Vaeryn.

  Officer Williams was preoccupied with driving the car and trying not to get shot again. Tim was no doubt fretting over his shitty restaurant. As uncomfortable as it was for Dave to talk to Vaeryn, leaving her hanging was even more uncomfortable.

  “It's a lab where people make meth.”

  “How very helpful,” said Vaeryn, rolling her eyes. “Mayhap it would be more helpful if I knew what lab and meth are.”

  “Lab is short for laboratory.”

  “Why not simply say laboratory?”

  “It's an abbreviation. Using the shortened forms of words saves time and energy.”

  Vaeryn smirked. “Are you trying to conserve more time for masting?”

  “Masting?”

  “It is short for masturbating. Did I do that right?”

  Tim and Officer Williams snorted.

  Dave sighed. “Sure.”

  “How fun.” Having gotten in her little dig at him, her tone lightened. “What is meth?”

  “It's short for methamphetamine, a mind-affecting drug.”

  “Like a potion?”

  “Kind of?”

  “What does it do to you?”

  “Nothing to me,” said Dave, making sure to speak loud enough for Officer Williams to hear. “I've never touched the stuff. But I've heard it makes you feel good.”

  “So it has healing properties?”

  “No. Quite the opposite, in fact. That shit can kill you.”

  “Why do people use it then?”

  Dave shrugged. “Why do people do a lot of stupid things? They value the short-term good feeling more than the long-term damage they're doing to their bodies and –”

  “Jesus fucking Christ!” said Tim. They had arrived.

  The Chicken Hut was barely recognizable. All the windows were broken. The building was covered in graffiti, most of which were different variations of a symbol that was somewhere between a chicken leg and a human dick and balls. The car's headlights illuminated some of the restaurant interior, showing some fire damage back behind the dining area.

  “What the fuck have they done to my –” Tim caught himself again, “ – faith in humanity? How long ago was it that an independent restaurateur could step away from his or her place of business without having to worry about people breaking in to cook meth and paint dicks all over it?”

  “They did more than step away,” said Officer Williams. “The brother and sister who ran this place disappeared about six months ago.”

  “Oh?” Tim perked up. “How do you know that? Did someone file a missing persons report on them?”

  Officer Williams shrugged. “Beats me. We tried to contact them, and discovered that was the last time they paid any of their bills, here or at the apartment they shared.”

  Tim slo
uched. “Oh.”

  “Can we hurry this along?” asked Vaeryn. “I long to taste one of these boridos.”

  “What?” Dave turned to Vaeryn. “Oh, you mean burritos.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “That is exactly what I said.”

  Dave glanced down at the gun she still had pointed at him. “Sorry. I must have misunderstood you.”

  Tim turned around in his seat to face Vaeryn. “What do you say you and I call a truce so we can enjoy our burritos without having to worry about getting shot?”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Nothing fancy. I'll tuck my gun away, and you tuck away yours. If we both behave, this will all be a lot less stressful.”

  Vaeryn tucked Officer Williams's gun into the back of her pants. “I agree to your terms... for now.”

  Tim got out of the car. When he was a safe distance away from Officer Williams, he tucked away his gun. He set the Taco Bell bag on the ground and pulled out three burritos before walking back to the car and opening Dave's door.

  Dave was shocked when Vaeryn grabbed his hand. He gawked at her.

  Vaeryn grimaced. “Oh please. I merely want to make certain he doesn't try to trap me in here as soon as you exit the vehicle.”

  “Oh,” said Dave in the same tone Tim had said it when he realized that nobody aside from bill collectors knew he was missing. “That's very clever of you.”

  Once everyone was out of the car, they took turns approaching the bag, grabbing their three burritos, and backing away.

  Vaeryn watched Dave, Tim, and Officer Williams carefully as they unwrapped the first of their burritos and bit into them, then followed their example. Her eyes lit up as she chewed and swallowed.

  “This is amazing!” She devoured the rest of it and began unwrapping her second one. “We should go back. I think three will not be enough.”

  “You might be right,” said Tim through a mouthful of burrito. “A dozen sounded like a lot when I ordered it, but I can't even remember the last time I ate anything.” He glanced back at the remains of the Chicken Hut. “I wonder.” Then he turned to Vaeryn. “Truce is still on, but I'm going to take out my gun to go inside the building. Are we cool?”

  Vaeryn put her hand on Officer Williams's gun but didn't pull it out of her pants. “Proceed carefully.” It was clearly more of a warning not to fuck her over than a show of concern for him facing what unknown perils my lie in wait for him inside the Chicken Hut.

  Tim drew his gun slowly, keeping it pointed down as he crept barefoot onto the broken glass that used to be the front door. It reminded Dave of Die Hard, if John McClane was a three-foot-tall alcoholic asshole and Hans Gruber had decided to seize control of a shitty fast food restaurant.

  Tim disappeared inside. “SHIT!” Four rapid flashes lit up the dark busted windows.

  “Tim?” Dave called into the restaurant. “Are you okay?”

  “Just a raccoon. It's, um... gone now.”

  “What's this all about?” Officer Williams asked Dave. “Who are you people? How did you heal me? How did all of you disappear like that?”

  “Magic.” Dave didn't expect that answer to satisfy the officer, but that's all he had.

  Officer Williams stared at him skeptically. “Do it again.”

  “Heal you?” said Dave. “Do you want her to shoot you again first?”

  “No, you fool. Turn yourself invisible.”

  “Okay.” Dave slipped off the Ring of Invisibility, then slipped it back on. Officer Williams's old eyes went wide. His gaze darted left and right, perhaps looking for where Dave might have run when he blinked. Given Dave's speed, that would have been a much more impressive feat than turning invisible.

  “Where did you go?” said Officer Williams, staring about two feet to the right of Dave.

  “I didn't go anywhere. I'm still right here.”

  Officer Williams's gaze shifted suddenly, focusing about six inches to Dave's left.

  “That wasn't no sleight of hand or misdirection. You actually disappeared!”

  “Ask him how he prefers to use that power,” said Vaeryn.

  Dave karate chopped the air, causing himself to reappear.

  Officer Williams started, taking a step back and looking even more shocked than when Dave disappeared. “I never believed in magic before, but there's simply no other explanation.”

  Vaeryn swallowed the last of her third burrito and stared quizzically at him. “What do you mean, you never believed in magic? I understand why you might choose not to practice it, but to deny its very existence when the evidence is literally shining in your face? How do you explain the light shining from your carriage if not magic?”

  Officer Williams stared back at her just as quizzically. “Electricity?”

  Vaeryn rolled her eyes. “Which is a form of magic.”

  “Is that what they're teaching young folks nowadays? I need to call my congressman. That just won't – ”

  “Fuck yeah, baby!” said Tim, leaving slightly bloody footprints on the floor as he came back through the dining area holding up a three-quarters-full bottle of Smirnoff.

  “What is that?” asked Vaeryn.

  “Vodka. It's like stonepiss, only not quite as strong.”

  “How did you know there would be vodka in there?” asked Officer Williams in a suspicious tone.

  Tim shrugged. “I didn't. I just figured that folks might like to unwind after an arduous day of cooking meth.”

  “We cleared out every room of this restaurant.”

  “I guess you missed a spot.” Tim took a swig from the bottle. “Or, I don't know, maybe a hobo came by later on to take a dump and forgot his booze when he left.”

  Dave knew exactly where it had come from. There was a secret panel in the office wall that Tim had created when he was slightly more ambitious, if watching YouTube videos about how to make secret panels in a wall counted as a sign of ambition. He wasn't as far gone a drunk back then. The bottle he was now holding was likely the same one he'd originally put in there, and the only reason he put it in there in the first place was that he needed something to hide in his new secret compartment.

  It wasn't even that big a secret. Tim was so proud of himself that he'd shown it to everyone... except for Katherine, as she would almost certainly have stolen the vodka.

  Officer Williams wiped the sides of his mouth with a napkin, then put it in the empty Taco Bell bag. “That's evidence in a criminal investigation.”

  Tim laughed. “You can have it when I'm done. I'll piss in those little evidence bags for you. You better bring a bunch of them.”

  “May I try it?” asked Vaeryn. “I've never tasted vodka before.”

  “No.”

  Vaeryn made a pouty face. “Why not?”

  “Because fuck you, that's why not. You tried to kill me. And I know you set Dave up to get caught masturbating in front of you.”

  Dave appreciated Tim sticking up for him, but he wished they could all just stop mentioning it altogether.

  Vaeryn scoffed. “As if he needs any setting up. That's the first thing he did as soon as he got a hold of a Ring of Invisibility, in front of all of us!” She scowled at Dave. “Positively indecent. He makes me ill.”

  Dave sighed. He'd thought they were getting past the whole jerking-off-on-the-street thing.

  “I was already primed from before,” he explained. “I wasn't going to be able to think straight until I released.”

  The silence that followed was palpably awkward. Trying to explain had been a monumentally bad idea.

  “I'm sorry,” he continued. “That's no excuse. I shouldn't have –”

  Vaeryn doubled over in pain, clutching her stomach. “Mercy... of the gods. What is... nnnnnnngggggggg...”

  Tim lowered his bottle. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “I don't know. I feel...” Her eyes went wide as she glared at Tim. “You did this!”

  “Me? How would I even... You said just a second ago Dave
made you ill.”

  Way to throw me under the bus, buddy.

  Vaeryn was sweating now and breathing shallowly. She struggled to remain upright as she pulled Officer Williams's gun out of the back of her pants.

  “You put meth in my dorito!”

  Dave cleared his throat. “Burrito.”

  Vaeryn shifted her glare to him.

  “I'm sorry. I misheard you again.”

  “I didn't put any fucking meth in your fucking burrito,” said Tim.

  “Liar!” Vaeryn tried to aim the gun at Tim, but her hand was shaking. “It feels good at first but does damage later.”

  “Just calm your tits, lady. I don't need to spike a Taco Bell burrito to cause damage. Your body just isn't used to – Oh my god.” Tim doubled over and clutched his belly.

  “What is it?” asked Dave. “What's wrong?”

  Tim looked up at him, his eyes panicked and face sweating. “My body isn't used to Taco Bell either.”

  “How can that be? You used to live on it.”

  “Not in this body, dumbass.” Tim winced and forced his ass cheeks together with both hands. “How are you... not... shitting yourself right now?”

  Dave panicked as he suddenly felt a rumble in his tummy. It was happening. He tried to squeeze his ass cheeks together, but he was too late. Fortunately, it was only a small squeak of a fart, then his insides felt fine again.

  “It must be my high Constitution score.”

  “I fear I cannot hold out much longer,” said Vaeryn. “Has this place a commode?”

  Officer Williams let out a long low whistle. “Believe me, ma'am. You do not want to go in there.”

  “Just go squat around that side of the building,” said Tim, backing away from her. “I'll take this side.”

  Vaeryn narrowed her eyes at Dave, then turned to Officer Williams as she carefully and deliberately backed around the side of the building. “Make sure the dwarf stays visible.”

  Dave balked at the implied accusation. “You think I want to watch you take a Taco Bell shit?”

  “I know not to what depths of depravity your sick mind craves to delve.”

  That was enough. It was time for Dave to put his foot down.

  “Listen,” he called out to Vaeryn's side of the building. “I've been having kind of a rough time these past few days. It's like my mind... I don't know. Strange thoughts and... and fantasies keep popping into my head. I'm dealing with it as best I can. So I'd appreciate you not giving me any more shit about the Ring of Invisibility incident.”