by C. S. De Mel
Scorcher leaned forward and placed the fingertips of both his hands together. “Lomez...what the hell are you talking about?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Lomez demanded.
Scorcher and Lomez stared at each other in confusion. “Okay-okay-okay. So, bottom line, I should wear this cape?”
“Yeah.”
“The cape you just happened to have tucked away in your limo?”
“Yeah. I’m that prepared. Ye-ah.”
Scorcher shrugged. “Alright, fuck it. Let’s do this thing.”
“Yeah!”
Scorcher took the cape from Lomez and fastened it around his neck. “How does it look?”
Lomez grinned. “Super. Well then, shall we?”
Scorcher’s eye glowed with anticipation. “Let’s.”
The moment the pair stepped out of the limo, they were welcomed with immense cheering. Lomez stood in silence, rooted to the spot. He smiled smugly with his head held high. Then, his right arm shot up and pointed straight up to the sky, as if to officiate the festivities. Wild howling and hooting ensued. Scorcher followed behind Lomez as he made his way through the crowd and towards the mansion. Lomez greeted as many people as he could along the way. People were dancing and talking animatedly. Rock music was blasting from the loud speakers on the porch steps. It was pandemonium, and they hadn’t even stepped into the house yet. Scorcher was loving every minute of it.
“What time is it?” Scorcher asked.
“Almost ten,” Lomez replied.
“And what time did this shindig start?”
“My guess would be last night.” Lomez stepped over a chubby, bare-chested man that was passed out on the lawn.
Scorcher grinned. “A day late to your own party... That’s real classy.”
“Classy and fashionable—you’re damn right.”
Lomez led Scorcher into his house. Not surprisingly, it was jam-packed with people. More cheering and clapping erupted at the sight of Lomez gracing the indoor party-goers with his presence.
“Where’s Jeeves?!” Lomez shouted. “Anyone seen Jeeves?!”
“Where’s your costume, Lomez honey?!” a girl in a disco diva costume yelled at him.
“Yeah, I got something lying around here. One sec.”
Lomez gave a loud whistle. “Yo, Jeeves!” He glanced at Scorcher. “My butler.”
“Oh yeah? With a name like Jeeves, I wouldn’t have guessed...”
Lomez pointed a finger wisely at Scorcher, like a teacher instructing a student: “Let me tell you, Scorcher—you ain’t filthy stupid rich until you have a Jeeves. A Jeeves and an exotic pet.”
An old butler dawdled out from the kitchen. “You beckoned, sir?”
“Yeah, this man here. Sizzler. Guest of honor, highest priority. Whatever he wants—it’s his. Make sure he’s well taken care of.” Lomez pointed at Scorcher. “I’ll be back in five seconds—get my costume going.” Lomez immediately turned tail and ran, unable to contain his fevered excitement. “Take care of him, Jeeves!” he yelled, as he zipped up the stairs.
Jeeves looked up at Scorcher. “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, Mr. Sizzler.”
Scorcher gave a low rumbling chuckle. “So, is that really your name?”
“No, it’s Randolph, sir.”
Scorcher grinned. “And you just let him call you Jeeves?”
“When I broached him on the subject, I believe his sentiment was, ‘it amuses him’.”
“Yeah, he is one that is easily amused. He’s a good guy.” Scorcher looked around and took in his surroundings. It was a palace. “And I do admire his taste.”
“Oooh, what are you supposed to be?” Scorcher glanced at the ditzy red-headed Dorothy staring at him. He really hadn’t given it much thought as to what he would tell people. He had an ugly skull for a face and two bull horns jutting out of his wild, pink mane. And, of course, the cape.
“Let’s just say I’m a Halloween ghoul...that’s also, err, a super-villain...”
“Oh, well, it’s a very scary costume!”
“Thanks, lady. Hey, where’s your little dog Toto?”
“Oh no, I lost him again!” Dorothy cried, putting on a mock sad face.
BANG-BANG! Two loud gunshots echoed through the house. A few screamed. Most were stunned. Lomez appeared atop the upstairs balcony, dressed as a southern colonel.
“Don’t worry, folks, just blanks!” he yelled over the music. Lomez was wearing a white cowboy hat, a bolo tie, and clutched a revolver in each hand—he had the holsters to match. Storing one of his guns, he pulled out a remote from his white suit and turned down his sound system. He gazed down from his balcony, like the Pope addressing the city of Rome. He holstered the other gun. “So...everyone having a good time?!”
“YEAHHHH!” Cheering erupted from the sea of guests.
“We love you, Lomez!” a drunk lady shouted.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Make yourself at home as you have been for the last... When did this start?”
“Thirty hours ago, bud!” a large fellow announced, holding up a beer.
“Good-good! If you don’t already know, look for the white coats—for all your eating and drinking needs.”
“Gimme some fried chicken, bitch!” someone in the crowd shouted at Lomez.
Lomez grinned. “Ain’t no party like a fried chicken party—my getup is just for show, but like I said, whatever you’re craving, my staff will make it happen. Head butler is Mr. Jeeves, who’s standing by the shrimp puffs table.”
“YEAH JEEVES!” Jeeves raised his hand modestly to acknowledge the hoots and hollers he received.
“People, I’d like to introduce the guest of honor. A connoisseur of the finer things in life and lives it in excess.” Lomez made the announcement as if he were in a boxing ring, introducing the world champion. “A genuine rock star and my pal Mis-ter Sizzzzzzler!” He pointed in Scorcher’s direction.
“Whoap, that’s me,” Scorcher muttered to Dorothy. He pumped both his fists in the air and sent his tongue out dancing. He ended his fanfare by spitting a fireball straight out of his mouth.
“A real-life fire breather, ladies and gentlemen! You have to pay to see acts like that!” Lomez exclaimed, as everyone cheered.
“Haaay, Lomez! Jump, you pansy!” a short, obnoxiously-loud Asian man yelled from the crowd. Dennis Wang was his name; a good friend of Lomez and one of his partners in mayhem.
The guests joined in the chant. “Jump! Jump! Jump!”
Lomez laughed maniacally. He pulled out two mini liquor bottles from his coat and chugged them down. He then turned his back to the crowd. “Hiyooo!” He dived backwards into the sea of guests, who caught him and bounced him up and down on the crowd surf. “Cheers! Serve them drinks up!” Lomez shouted.
The guests pumped their fists and whooped in celebration. Lomez held up the remote and cranked the music back up. It was a never-ending sea of noise.
Scorcher’s amber eye glowed. “I could get used to this.”
***
It was past twelve now. Scorcher was mixing and mingling with Lomez’s eccentric friends. What Scorcher found most surprising was that rather than being repulsed by his ‘costume’, the women were drawn to it. Scorcher was talking to a brunette in a skimpy honeybee costume. “Oh, believe me, you don’t want to date me…”
“Sure I do!”
“You don’t even know what’s under this mask. For all you know, the face could be just as ugly.”
“Well, that’s what makes it fun!”
“Fun...? Listen, lady, I’m old enough to be your great-great-great-great—hmm…” Scorcher paused a moment as he counted on his fingers. “Great-great-great-grandfather. Give or take a great.”
“Oh, you’re so funny, ha-ha!” the girl squealed.
“Yeah, that’s me, a regular Billy Crystal...” Scorcher leaned into Lomez. “Jeezes, Lomez, these broads…”
“Yessir. Slutty nurses, slutty cats. Slutty school girls, slutty
cheerleaders…” Lomez paused a moment to take in the crowd. “God, I love Halloween.”
“Hey, Lomez!” someone called from down the hall.
“Excuse me, people—I must circulate,” Lomez announced to Scorcher and his circle of friends. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
The honeybee tapped Scorcher on the arm. Scorcher glanced down at her. “Yeah?”
“Can I touch your horn?”
***
As the night progressed, Scorcher found himself inclined to stay out in the backyard. The weather was perfect. There was a diving competition happening at the in-ground pool, but Scorcher was not one for the water. Instead, he had opted to mingle and pig-out on appetizers.
Lomez walked into Scorcher’s circle, with a cute number dressed up as Pocahontas on one arm and a blonde bombshell nurse on the other. “Sc—Sizzler! How you doing; you having a good time?”
Scorcher let out a deep rumble of a laugh. He had an entire serving tray of food in his hand, which he was wolfing down. “I’m having an awesome time.”
“Excellent, excellent!” Lomez leaned into Scorcher. “Psst. I got something to show you.”
“The last time I heard that at this party, it was from a lady, so...”
“No, just come, you’re gonna like this. Trust me.”
“What about this tray of food?”
“Bring the food!” Lomez turned to his two girlfriends. “Ladies, we’ll be right back. You two, just sit tight.”
“But, Lomez!” Pocahontas cried. “What about—”
“Don’t worry! Two minutes. I promise.” Lomez nudged Scorcher. “Okay, let’s go.”
Lomez led Scorcher to a secluded part of his backyard, where the trees were dense and the blasting music was barely audible. There were no party-goers to be seen.
Scorcher scratched his head. “What’s out here?”
“Oh, you’ll see.” Lomez pulled out a mini flashlight and shined it towards the trees. “Here, Lobo! Here, boy!”
Scorcher and Lomez waited...until finally, they could hear movement amongst the foliage. Scorcher stared. “Oh, you’ve gotta be shittin’ me.” Out from the forest emerged a fully-grown African lion.
“Check it out, man, he’s got a mane like yours!” Lomez exclaimed. “Well, not pink...but just as raw and untamed!”
The lion approached Scorcher and Lomez. “This thing isn’t gonna try and maul us, is he?”
“Nah, he’s harmless,” Lomez replied, patting the lion on the head. “His name’s Lobo. Got him when I was in Africa, a few years back.”
“Interesting name for a lion. Then again, what the hell do I know about naming a lion?” Lobo made eye-contact with Scorcher and let out a deafening roar.
“I think he wants your food...”
“Mother fucker...” Scorcher sighed. “Fine, take it. Take it all!” Scorcher dumped the entire tray of assorted meats into the grass, and the lion devoured all of it in seconds.
Lomez patted Scorcher on the shoulder. “There, there, we’ll get you some more. Let’s head back.”
“Hey, but shouldn’t you keep this thing tied up? What happens if Lobo here decides to trot over to where the rest of the guests are?”
“Hey, good idea!” Lomez swatted Lobo on the hind leg. “Go on, Lobo; go say hello to all the guests!” Lobo casually began to walk towards the mansion.
Scorcher smirked. “You sure that’s a good idea?”
“Yeah, it’s fine—everyone knows Lobo. He’ll be fine.”
“Is this intoxicated Lomez making the decisions?”
“Intoxicated Lomez makes every decision.”
Scorcher laughed. “You’re freakin’ nuts, you know that, don’t you? And that says something, coming from me. But enough about that; let’s get back to the show. This growing boy demands sustenance!”
Scorcher and Lomez returned to the backyard party and rejoined the crowd. Scorcher was quick to commandeer another serving tray. “Lomez, ya panzy, where ya been?!”
Lomez grinned. “Sizzler, I want you to meet this guy.” Lomez ruffled the hair on the short Asian man’s head. “This here is Dennis Wang. We go way back.”
“Ya! You know how we met?”
“How’s that?” Scorcher asked.
“Cocaine!” Dennis laughed loudly. His heavy Chinese accent when talking could still be heard in his laugh. It was a high piercing laugh that was almost an evil cackle.
Scorcher eyed Dennis. He was wearing an expensive tan jacket, beige slacks, and designer sunglasses. “So, what’s the getup? Movie star?”
“Cocaine dealer!” Dennis laughed again. “Was easy costume ‘cause I was one! But not anymore—I’ve retired. Like Lomez, I know when to pull out.”
Lomez smirked. “Tell that to your ex.”
“Oh, don’t get me started! Four kids, Sizzler! Four! And she try to take me for all I’m worth. But she can’t take shit because none of it on paper!” Dennis cackled. “Bitches be crazy!” Dennis had Scorcher in stitches now—his laugh was contagious.
Pocahontas walked up to Lomez and kicked him in the shins. “Ow, dammit!” Pocahontas huffed at him impatiently. “Oh right, apologies, honey. Sizzler, this here is Mindy. She saw you from afar and was just dying to meet you.” Lomez raised his hand and shook it with his fingertips and thumb pinched together. “But she was too intimidated by your machismo.”
“Hi, Sizzler!”
“Well, hello there!” Scorcher said, shaking her hand with his massive gauntlet.
“Wow, you have such a deep booming voice.” She looked Scorcher up and down. “And I love the cape.”
Lomez nudged Scorcher. “You see!” he hissed.
“So, Lomez told me earlier that you’re going into space next year?”
“I am?”
“These astronaut types are always so modest,” Lomez added, chuckling.
“Ahh—you got me!” Scorcher laughed. “Yeah, if you must know, I am indeed...going…” Scorcher glanced at Lomez, who nodded and flashed him a sneaky ‘A-ok’ sign by his belt.
“Wow, that’s incredible! So, are you able to discuss the details? Or is it top secret?”
“Well, technically, yes—it is top secret.” Scorcher leaned into Mindy. “But in your case, I’ll make an exception.” Mindy looked thrilled. “I’ll be doing the tour. Fly by of Mars, Jupiter—all the way out to Saturn.”
She was stunned. “I can’t believe it—that’s amazing!” Mindy cried.
“Are you kidding me?” a man in the crowd interjected. He was tall, tanned, and was wearing stupidly expensive designer clothing. He looked as if he were a professional model. “Manned spaceflight all the way to Saturn? You’re nuts.”
“I have been told that.”
“Wait, so it’s not true?” Mindy asked.
Scorcher exchanged glances with Lomez. “Pff, of course it’s true.” He was adamant to ride his lie on nothing but rims and into a ditch if he had to. “With the upcoming May planetary alignment next year, ain’t nothing to it. Gonna make them moon landings look like a cakewalk.”
Mindy was ecstatic. “Are you landing on planets too!?”
“Yeah, of course—err...Jupiter.”
The man in designer clothing looked thoroughly annoyed. “You’re going to land on a gas giant? Are you freakin’ stupid? Not to mention, if you’re using the May planetary alignment, by the time you reach one planet and plan on going to the next, the position would have drastically shifted.”
Scorcher was trying not to laugh. “Jeez, Fashion guy, you should see the vein on the side of your head.”
Fashion guy took a swig from his glass. “Now, if you want to do it properly, you need a planetary position that you can exploit for gravitational slingshots, factoring in the time it would take to travel the distance between the planets and their position upon arrival. Like they did with the Voyagers in the ‘70s.”
Scorcher pointed his finger at Fashion guy: “Yeah, in the ‘70s—and those fuckers are still up there! That tech is over
twenty years old. Can you fathom the advances that have been made in space exploration during that time?”
Fashion guy waved his hand in denial. “Nah, nah, not as much as you would think. After the Space Race finished, it was all downhill from there. Budget cuts every year, not to mention that Apollo 13 fiasco that probably caused a drop in public support. You’d better believe Houston’s got a fuckin’ problem now. You’d figure billions of tax dollars would probably be better allocated to help solve the problems a little closer to home rather than joyrides into space. Tech for space travel sure as hell hasn’t advanced far enough to achieve the pipe dreams you’re selling.”
Scorcher shrugged. “Well, maybe you just don’t dare to dream.”
“Hay! There’s only one way to settle this argument!” Dennis Wang interjected. “Drink off! Drink! Drink! DRINK!”
Scorcher grinned. “Well, I don’t think that’s really fair to Fashion guy.”
“Wussing out?” Fashion guy stepped up to Scorcher and dug his finger into his chest. “I’d expect that from you, and it’s probably a wise decision,” he gloated. “Believe me, I can handle my liquor.”
Lomez leaned into Scorcher. “Go easy on him, now.” Lomez knew that Scorcher had a voraciously inhuman appetite that could not be satiated by quantities in the realm of normalcy. He had seen Scorcher gorge first hand on Friday, bones and all. Game meat was one thing... He was curious as to how this would translate when consuming alcohol.
Scorcher shrugged. “Alright, serve ‘em up.”
The crowd whooped and hollered. Lomez raised his finger in the air, and immediately, a waiter came to his side. “Drinks—let’s start light here.” Lomez grabbed two bottles of beer off the tray and handed one each to Scorcher and Fashion guy. “Chug ‘em down, fellas.”
There wasn’t even a pause for a countdown. Fashion guy twisted off his cap and began to chug. Lomez’s guests were eating it up. Scorcher looked down curiously at the beer bottle in his hand. He tapped on the cap a few times, apparently inspecting the bottle. “Yeah!” Fashion guy cried out, holding up his empty bottle. The crowd cheered. Fashion guy laughed at Scorcher. “What’s the matter; couldn’t get the bottle open?” Scorcher looked at Fashion guy, then smiled. He held the closed bottle up in the air for everyone to see and opened his mouth wide. He released the bottle and down it went—straight down his throat and into his belly.
