by Jeff Strand
"I agree that you probably shouldn't have said the Cyclops part out loud," I say, starting the car and pulling away from Sapphire Comics & Games.
"I know. I just got so excited and emotional. I can't believe this is actually happening. It's like having an imaginary friend, and you know you shouldn't keep believing in him, yet somehow you know that he exists." Seth clears his throat. "I don't have an imaginary friend, by the way. I was using that as a comparison."
"So, as the glass-is-half-empty guy," I say, "do you have a Plan B for if we get to Arizona and there's no Cyclops, and you come back to South Dakota without a job or girlfriend?"
"Nope. I sure don't."
"Just checking."
"I should clarify that my job is a waiter. It's not like I'm walking away from a career as a neurosurgeon. The manager will be pretty pissed, but I'll find another job. It's hard to get blackballed from the food service industry. What do you do?"
"I'm an accountant."
"Oooh, sexy."
"Was an accountant. No, I guess I'm still an accountant; I'm just not employed as one right now."
"Laid off?"
"I quit."
"Angry quit or lotto-win quit?"
"Angry quit."
"Yeah? I bet it was sweet when you told your boss."
"It was a lot less sweet than it should have been."
"That sucks." Seth pats the back of Harriett's seat. "So what do you do?"
"I train to slay a Cyclops."
"Does that pay well?"
"I, too, lived with my parents. They did not require me to get a traditional job, but I did a great deal of plowing, gardening, food preparation, fence-building, and various other forms of manual labor."
"That's awesome," says Seth. "See, I'd be in much better shape if I could've worked out that kind of deal."
"It really was not awesome. I never traveled. Rarely interacted. As I've discovered, my social skills are less than spectacular. I've missed out on a lot. Did you know they combine peanut butter with chocolate?"
"I did. Good stuff, good stuff."
"I have a query for you. How do you 'see' the Cyclops? What mental image do you have of it?"
Seth considers that for a moment. "I guess I don't have a specific image. It's kind of abstract and stylized. It's got the one eye, of course, and huge sharp teeth, but beyond that I can't really picture it, if you know what I mean."
"Huge sharp teeth?" asks Harriett.
"Yeah."
"I've pictured it many times, but none of those images involved huge sharp teeth."
"Oh, yeah, it's got big teeth for sure. We'll definitely need to psyche ourselves up for that. How tall were you thinking? I was thinking maybe ten, fifteen feet."
"That sounds accurate. I'd err more on the side of fifteen."
"You think this Cyclops is going to be fifteen feet tall?" I ask them both.
"Approximately," says Harriett.
I glance at Seth in the rear-view mirror. "And you're not terrified?"
"Not now. It's all the way in Arizona."
"I expect to experience some fear," says Harriett. "I'm prepared to overcome it."
Seth nods his agreement. "I figure, the closer we get, the more scared I'll be. But it's my destiny. I've got to suck it up. For all I know, this car is driving me to my death. And if that's the case, well, I'm sure I'll start to flip out once we get to Colorado or so. For now, hey, road trip to destiny. Better than what I was doing before."
"I'm glad I'm a non-believer," I say, "because if I thought we were truly heading toward a fifteen-foot-tall fanged Cyclops, I'd be crapping myself."
Seth chuckles. "You're outvoted on the Cyclops existence, two to one, so I hope you brought extra pants."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Seth talks a lot more than Harriett does. He also, apparently, has a bladder the size of a pinto bean. Never have I encountered somebody who requires more frequent pee breaks. And I worked with a guy named Don who drank twelve to fourteen cups of coffee a day, at least until he had a nervous breakdown and went on long-term disability.
He doesn't talk much about himself or his family. Mostly, he talks about role-playing games, video games, and movies, which he feels have become too much like video games. He'd tried to talk to Harriett about her life, but he couldn't get her to share any more than I could, even though their destinies are apparently entwined. Then he'd tried to talk to me about my life, which resulted in some tears that made everybody uncomfortable. So games and movies it is.
"Can we stop at the next exit?" Seth asks. "I have to pee."
Harriett turns around and looks back at him. "Again?"
"Yeah. It's kind of an emergency."
Harriett sighs. "One doesn't hear about the great heroes of history urinating this frequently."
"Hey," says Seth, "I'm sorry that I haven't trained my entire life to control my need to pee. If there was a bladder enlargement procedure, I'd have it done. Maybe I could do gastric bypass at the same time; have them take some of my stomach and sew it onto my bladder."
"There would be a recovery period after the surgery, so that idea is impractical right now."
"This is getting a little too gross for me," I say. "We should stop for lunch anyway."
"That's a great idea," says Seth. "Is food choice a democracy or dictatorship?"
"We can vote," I say.
"I vote Mexican."
"That's fine with me," I say. "Harriett?"
"I trust Seth's food selection."
At the next exit, we stop at Taco Bell. Harriett seems a bit overwhelmed by the selection, so she tells the woman at the counter that she wants the same thing I ordered.
We sit down with our tray of tacos. Seth tears open a packet of hot sauce and pours it on, while Harriett unwraps her hard-shell taco and holds it up.
"So the shell holds in the meat and other ingredients. That's a very clever design."
"You've never had a taco before?" Seth asks.
"No."
"Never?"
"Never. I've had the individual components, but not an actual taco."
"Wow. I wish I were you, having a bite of a taco for the first time. Do you want some hot sauce?"
"Let's start her off slow," I say.
Harriett takes a bite. The shell cracks and half of the taco spills onto the tray.
"Yeah, they'll do that," Seth says.
Harriett chews and swallows. "I expected greater structural integrity, but I do like tacos."
Seth takes a huge bite of his. "What else haven't you tried?" he asks, still chewing.
"I'm not sure what's available."
"Have you had a burrito?"
"No."
"It's the same stuff that's in a taco, just more of it, and wrapped in a soft tortilla. They're amazing. Have you ever had fried chicken?"
"I have eaten chicken on a regular basis. We didn't deep-fry anything."
"No disrespect to your family, but that's criminal. They should literally be charged with a crime against food. The deep-frying is the best part. If you can deep-fry something, and then put it on a stick, you've achieved culinary perfection."
"You eat fried chicken on a stick?"
"No, chicken comes with its own stick. Almost anything else, though. You can deep-fry butter and put it on a stick. You never had fried fish?"
"No. Our fish was broiled in the oven or grilled."
"That's messed up. The only way fish is edible is in fish-stick form. That's how you get rid of the fish flavor. What about Tapas?"
"What's Tapas?"
"It's when they bring food in really small portions. It's stupid. It's for rich people. Don't ever have it. What about steak?"
"I have consumed an enormous amount of steak in my life."
"Popcorn?" Seth asks.
"Yes."
"With butter?"
"A reasonable amount."
"Ummmmm, potato skins?"
"Of course. That's the most nutritious part. Throwing it a
way would be wasteful."
"No, I mean when it's just the skin—well, I guess there's some potato interior in there, too, but mostly it's just the skin, covered with cheese, onions, sour cream, bacon, and jalapenos. The bacon is the best part. The pre-packaged skins have bacon bits, but I like to enhance it with bacon strips. It's so good. So good. I'm sitting here stuffing my face with a delicious taco and I'm longing for potato skins. That's how good they are."
"Do they sell them here?"
Seth snorts. "I wish. What about pizza?"
"Yes, I've had pizza."
"With stuffed crust?"
"Stuffed with what?"
"More cheese, usually."
"No. My pizza crust is primarily a handle."
"What a waste."
"Let me ask a question," says Harriett. "Have you ever had venison?"
"Yeah."
"That you killed, dressed, and prepared yourself?"
"Not all three of those."
"So you killed a deer?"
"No, but Graspin the Colossal did."
"We won't count him. Have you ever dressed one?"
"You mean skinning it, cleaning out the guts, and cutting it up, right?"
"Right."
"Hell no."
"Have you prepared venison?"
"Do you mean prepared from scratch, or reheated later?"
"Were you involved in any part of its original preparation for the meal?"
"This would have been a long time ago. I probably set the table. I just remember that it was kind of gamey. And I started thinking of Bambi. Which made me think of Bambi's mom. It was kind of a bummer of a dinner."
"Have you ever had puma?" Harriett asks.
"No," says Seth. "Holy shit, have you?"
"No. I would though, given the opportunity, and if it were a fair hunt."
"Maybe we'll get attacked by pumas on the way to kill the Cyclops."
"Have either of you had Cyclops?" I ask. "The eyeball is a delicacy. Sprinkle some garlic salt on it, throw it on the grill...mmmmm. You've got to cut off the stalk, though, because it gets tough and the flavor profile just isn't there."
Harriett and Seth both give me blank stares.
"C'mon, you two get to talk about puma attacks, but I'm the one who's being silly?"
"There's nothing silly about pumas," Seth informs me. "Those things will shred you. In the event of a puma attack, you'd be well advised to focus more on defending yourself and less on making jokes about eating Cyclops eyeballs."
"Shut up and eat your tacos."
"Yes, sir."
With Harriett no longer a taco-virgin (Seth's term, most assuredly not mine) we return to the car and to the highway. I'm not going to lie—I'm definitely feeling road trip fatigue. It was a long-ass trip without the detour, and there's no guarantee that our next "hero" won't require another significant detour.
But I'm here voluntarily. I can drop them off whenever I want, no hard feelings. Well, Seth might have hard feelings. Either way, if I really start to get sick of being in this car, I can always insist on taking a break for a day or two. Denver is halfway between Aberdeen and Phoenix (not that I know that we're going to Phoenix) and it might be a good place to hang out for a while.
* * *
"I have to pee," says Seth.
* * *
"Can we stop? I've got to pee," says Seth.
* * *
"Anybody else up for a pee break?" asks Seth.
* * *
"Hey, it's not an emergency, but—okay, now it is. Could you pull over?"
"Can't you wait until the next exit?" I ask.
"Not with one hundred percent certainty."
I pull over on the side of the road.
* * *
"Does anybody have an empty can or bottle they aren't using? Actually, it doesn't have to be completely empty."
"No! I'll pull over."
* * *
"I know you're going to kill me, but—"
"Yes, I'll pull over so you can pee."
"That's not what I was going to say. But you've planted the idea into my head so now I do have to go."
"That's fine. So why was I going to kill you?"
"Never mind."
* * *
"I have to pee," says Seth.
* * *
And then we're in Denver.
Even with the frequent breaks, we've made good time. If it weren't April, I'd recommend that we head to the nearest ski lodge. Instead, I recommend that we have some dinner and then get a full night's sleep.
Since I'm the oldest of the trio, I'm prepared for the reaction to be, "G'night, Grampa!" But Harriett and Seth agree that this is an excellent idea.
"We've had a long day," says Seth. "Tomorrow will be another long day, and we should get some rest so that we can travel as far as possible and maybe get there tomorrow night."
Personally, if I believed that there was a ferocious Cyclops waiting for us in Arizona, I'd want to stretch out the journey as much as possible, so I guess I have to respect their courage.
We drive around looking for the perfect place to eat. Seth suggests a Buffalo wings place, but Harriett vetoes the idea.
"There!" she says, pointing out the window as we drive past a small tavern.
"That place?" I ask, genuinely surprised.
"Yes. I want to play billiards. I never have and I think I'll be good at it."
"Looks like kind of a dive," says Seth, as I do a U-turn.
"If we get into a barroom brawl, you can prove your valor," says Harriett.
"Then I'm going to bring in one of my swords."
"No," I say. "You are not going to bring in one of your swords."
"I'll be discreet about it."
"We're not storming the castle of an evil warlord. We're going into a perfectly respectable tavern on a well-lit street. There's not going to be any trouble. If there is, we will calmly leave. Everybody understand?"
"You're the boss," says Seth.
"No, I'm the driver. Which gives me the leverage to say that we're not stopping here unless everybody leaves their weapons. So, yes, in this case I am the boss. Thank you for acknowledging that."
"Anytime, dude."
"Harriett, you're leaving your stick."
"That's acceptable," she says. "I will be constantly aware of the location of the billiards cues."
I pull into the parking lot, which is loose gravel. The nearest car in the lot is parked so badly that this can't possibly be the first stop on the owner's alcohol adventure for the evening, so I pass it and park at the end of the row of about six cars.
We go inside. The first thing that hits me is that this is most definitely not a non-smoking establishment. Becky would have immediately turned around and marched us right back out, but Harriett doesn't seem to mind. Seth lets out a soft cough just to let us know that his lungs are inconvenienced. Since a sign invites us to seat ourselves, we sit down at an empty booth near the pool table.
Our server approaches immediately. She's a pretty young blonde whose breasts strain so tightly against her blouse that I'm certain that at some point a button is going to pop off with the velocity of a bullet and kill somebody. I order a Sprite because it's caffeine-free, and Seth orders a Mountain Dew.
"I've only ever had wine," Harriett tells the server. "What other variety of alcoholic beverage do you recommend?"
"Oh, honey, you need to do some shots," says the server, winking at me.
"No, I don't want to dance suggestively. I just want to try something different."
"How about a margarita?"
"That sounds delightful. Thank you."
"Frozen or on the rocks?"
"She doesn't mean literal rocks," says Seth. "It's ice cubes."
"I know that."
"Just making sure. I didn't know that until a couple of years ago." I can't tell if Seth is being sincere or not. I decide that he isn't. Harriett orders her margarita frozen.
Though there are about ten fo
od items on the menu, the server politely but firmly dissuades us from ordering anything but the burgers. And within that category, she suggests that the guacamole burger isn't the finest choice, at least not this late at night. The three of us order cheeseburgers.
There's only one pool table, and two guys are in the middle of a game. They're in their twenties, good-looking, and though they aren't wearing cowboy hats they're otherwise dressed as if they enjoy some line dancing from time to time.
Harriett slides out of the booth. "I'm going to observe," she tells me.
I feel oddly protective, even though I'm ten feet away and, if her personal safety does become an issue, I probably won't be able to do anything but watch the bodies drop.
She walks over, smiles at the guys, and tells them that she wants to watch them play billiards. The guys do not seem displeased by her presence.
I keep them in my peripheral vision as I turn most of my attention to Seth. "So, do you really believe that this is your destiny?"
"Yeah. I do as of last night. If you'd asked me before that, I would've said no. I figured it had to be something somebody told me when I was really young, where I only remembered the story and not who told it to me. But then Harriett showed up with a scroll that said exactly what I've believed in my heart all this time, and as soon as I saw it I was like, it's all true."
"So there's no part of you that's saying, hey, a giant Cyclops terrorizing a small town is probably bullshit?"
"Look, I want to believe. I'm not going to try to deny that. And I could be like one of those Bigfoot hunters who want to find Bigfoot so bad that they think their blurry picture of a tree stump is Bigfoot crouching down picking something out of his toenail. That might be me. I admit it. But Harriett believes, I believe...so why shouldn't I go?"
"I'm not trying to talk you out of it. I just want to make sure that you are truly sincere. I don't want to find out that you were thinking, 'Hey, I'll pretend I believe the deranged lady, and that'll give me a reason to get out of a bad relationship.'"
Seth laughs. "I promise you, I wasn't trying to get away from Liz. She's awesome. We get along great. The sex is rare but it's awesome. If she'd accepted my marriage proposal, I would've asked you to take us straight to Vegas after we kill the Cyclops."
