Pulling her head inside the kitchen Dee Dee said. “She saw me! She’s going to kill me! I have to get out of here!” Before Cutter could object, Dee Dee had disappeared through the back door into the alley. Moments later Cutter heard tires squeal on pavement. He peeked out of the back door in time to see a car speed away with Dee Dee in the passenger seat.
Hussey was distracted from her pursuit of Dee Dee by a muffled gurgling noise and glanced over toward the source at corner table. “I’m too late,” she thought as she stared at the table of four men with their faces in their plates, bubbling saliva into their fugu.
Hussey approached the table and placed her hand on Death’s throat to feel a pulse.
“It’s the girl,” Death mumbled just before he passed out.
“Zombies?” Bella said to Hussey from her table.
“That’s what it looks like to me,” Hussey said. “Dee Dee did it again, didn’t she? Now the question is – are they Mambo zombies or Borko zombies?”
“Does this help?” Jones pulled the empty vial from his pocket.
Hussey examined the vial: Borko. “Yes, this is the stuff,” she said, her eyes wide. That’s Mama Wati’s old zombie powder, not my stuff. Borko is irreversible, it fries brains permanently.”
“She must have dumped the bottle in these folks’ food as well as mine,” Jones said.
“I hope you didn’t eat anything,” Hussey said, looking him up and down for zombie signs.
He winked. “No, but I have enough voodoo-powder-laced fugu for the folks in the lab to analyze. And there should be enough residue in that vial to match to the fish. I saw Dee Dee drop this vial in the trash. I got her.”
“Should we call the paramedics?” Jones said as he watched the men at the window table periodically twitch and jerk.
“No point,” Hussey said. “There’s nothing they could do. All you can do for them now is take care of them, make sure they don’t hurt themselves.” Hussey gazed past the comatose diners and spied Cutter peeking through the kitchen door. When her gaze fell on him, Cutter’s face disappeared.
“There’s something I need to do,” Hussey said to Bella and Jones. As she strode purposefully toward the kitchen Hussey made a side trip behind the bar. She reached up and removed the silver runcible spoon from its hook. With vengeance written large in her grin, Hussey held the spoon up to show Roland. “This time I’m not using a vulture foot,” she said as she disappeared through the door into the kitchen.
Hussey surveyed the kitchen looking for Cutter. “Where are you, you sniveling worm?” She noticed the cooler door was slightly ajar and strode toward it. She found Cutter cowering behind a box of lemons in the back of the cooler. When he realized Hussey had found him he stepped out from behind the lemons and faced her, a guilty, remorseful expression on his face. Cutter knew he had to sweet-talk Hussey like he’d never sweet-talked before or she would kill him.
“First you lose all my money, then you trick me into making a zombie, you lie to the police and get me arrested. Any last words before I castrate you with this runcible spoon?” Hussey brandished the spoon and tried to rein in the rage in her voice.
“I did it all for you,” whined Cutter, taking a step back from the spoon-wielding Hussey.
“What?” Hussey said. “You lost my money and had me arrested for me?”
“I only went along with Dee Dee’s plan to get your money back,” Cutter said. “Making those people into zombies wasn’t my idea. She forced me to help her. I thought if I got your money back you’d forgive me, at least talk to me, and maybe we could start over, be together again. And I did deposit my winnings in your account, almost paid you back all of it. After all we’ve been through, and all we’ve meant to each other, we deserve to give it another try. We were meant to be together.”
Well, Dee Dee is a bitch, Hussey thought. And I know she is capable of that … maybe he’s being sincere. It’s only money and he was my first love … he’s admitting he screwed up … “And getting me arrested?” Hussey lowered the spoon a little, beginning to soften.
“I had to do that,” Cutter said, on the defensive. “Dee Dee would have killed me if I hadn’t backed her up; you don’t know her … she’s vicious. And now Dee Dee has run off and I’m going to be arrested for murder. Florida has the death penalty. They’re going to strap me into the electric chair and make me ride the lightning.”
“Where did Dee Dee go?” Hussey said.
“The last I saw of her she jumped into a hot pink corvette with that food critic. They were headed south.”
“Well, you’re not going to jail for murder,” Hussey said, letting her hand that held the spoon drop to her side. “Nobody died. The race car driver and the boxer are alive, actually better than before. The Mambo powder cured their psychological problems.”
“Then your powder works!” gushed Cutter. “That’s so great! And if it wasn’t for me tricking you into using it on the driver you’d never know that it works on people. I actually helped you!”
“I guess that’s true in a twisted sort of way,” Hussey said. “I’m probably going to make a lot of money from the formula, a lot more than you lost.”
“And us? Can we try again?”
“Jeez Cutter,” Hussey shook her head, “I don’t know …”
“It was always you,” Cutter cut her off. “I need you,” Cutter pleaded “Sure, the sex with Dee Dee was awesome, a lot better than you, but I need someone like you, someone settled, stable, comfortable and now we are going to be rich from your formula.”
The only word Hussey heard after ‘better than you’ was ‘we’ as in ‘we are going to be rich. The manipulating weasel was just trying to get his hand on the money, she realized. “That’s it you slimy, conniving shit!” Hussey brandished the spoon again and stepped toward him, “I’m going to castrate you with this runcible spoon!”
Nikja heard the screams coming from the beach and rushed to the window to investigate. He stood, staring out of the window of his beach hotel in amazement, as beachgoers ran screaming in terror toward the motel, running ahead of a clown who was being chased by a werewolf, which was being chased by a greyhound wearing a number on its back.
“It’s black magic,” Nikja said. “There are wicked things afoot, first the naked girl playing dead on the beach, then that bondage rooster. Now this.” He watched through the office window as customers hurried to their rooms and emerged with packed suitcases. He locked the door to the office and hid below the counter before anyone could check out.
As Cowpie approached a lifeguard stand, a German shepherd, which had been dozing in the shade of the stand, leapt into the arms of the lifeguard. Cowpie took a sharp right at the lifeguard stand and headed toward a large pink hotel. Glancing over his shoulder Cowpie heard the lifeguard console the trembling dog, “Chill out Adolph, it’s only a clown, a werewolf and a greyhound.” That lifeguard looks a lot like David Hasselhoff, Cowpie thought as he headed for the beach entrance of the Paradise Hotel. Cowpie sprinted through the lobby, constantly looking back over his shoulder, only to see the werewolf hot on his heels. Looking back, Cowpie didn’t see the fountain in the center of the lobby or ‘Bitey’ the sleeping, six foot alligator in the fountain.
Too late, Cowpie looked up, tripped over the edge of the fountain and landed squarely on Bitey’s back.
Awakened abruptly, Bitey twisted his neck sideways toward Cowpie and opened his jaws wide showing the clown rows of sharp, white teeth. As Cowpie clung to the ’gator’s back the jaws came down in a loud snap closing on the clown’s rubber nose. Cowpie’s eyes followed his rubber nose upward, impaled on the alligator’s incisor as Bitey opened his maw for another attempt. Cowpie screamed and launched himself from Bitey’s back as the alligator lunged at the clown snapping his jaws and taking out the seat of his baggy pants. Terrified, Cowpie sprinted back toward the lobby’s beach entrance, and headed straight for the startled werewolf who was halfway across the marble floor and loping toward him.
&
nbsp; When Clint saw the screaming clown running toward him, his werewolf bravado vanished, and he was Clint again and terrified of the approaching clown. Clint the werewolf turned and ran. Seeing the werewolf bearing down on him Moreover extended his front paws and skidded to a stop on the lobby floor. The big wolf was chasing him. Reversing direction, he dashed away ahead of the pursuing werewolf through the lobby of the Paradise Hotel, and back to the beach. The trio now ran north, back up the beach toward the Santeria hotel.
Nikja peeked out from behind the registration desk and peered down the beach. Beach goers were slowly and cautiously creeping back toward the Gulf, spreading towels in the sand and tossing frisbees around. The screams rose again and Nikja beheld the new progression, a greyhound, chased by a werewolf, chased by a clown.
“Black magic!” Nikja shouted as he ducked below the desk again.
Hussey took another step toward Cutter who faked left, dodged right and bolted for the door to the alley. Just as he opened the door Moreover sprinted through, knocking Cutter to the floor. As Cutter tried to stand, he was again knocked to the floor by a large, hairy beast that loped through the door snarling and snapping its huge jaws. Moreover took a quick sniff of Cutter’s scent as he ran past. He had smelled this man before at the track. Yes, he remembered now, this was the man who threw the cigar that burned his mouth, the man who kicked over his cage. Moreover put on the brakes wheeled around facing Cutter, a snarl forming on his lips.
Once again, Cutter tried to make his escape but as he reached for the door handle, Cowpie sprinted through like his ass was on fire and Cutter was again, knocked to the floor. Moreover sidestepped as the werewolf chased the clown through the kitchen and into the bar. Forgetting the werewolf, Moreover laid his ears back and with a deep, threatening growl circled back toward Cutter. Moreover leapt for Cutter’s throat but Cutter dodged the dog and bolted through the door to the alley, pulling the door closed behind him before Moreover could follow. Moreover stood thwarted and barking at the door to the alley.
When Cutter entered the alley, he saw Stinky perched regally on top of the dumpster, glaring at him.
“Your time has come,” Stinky snarled as Cutter skidded to a stop in front of the dumpster. Cutter looked around and saw he was surrounded by a clowder of zombie pussies, staring at him with huge green eyes.
“Get him!” Stinky commanded his feline minions.
“Get him yourself,” meowed a grey tabby, as the effects of the Mambo powder began to wane.
“Yeah,” joined in an orange and black tortoiseshell calico, “why are we taking orders from you? I’m a cat. I don’t take orders from anyone.”
“What am I doing here?” meowed a multi-colored Maltese. “I have a nice, furry mouse at home filled with catnip.”
“And I have a great patch of sunlight that falls perfectly in the late afternoon on a thick Persian carpet,” sighed a Persian. “It’s a perfect place to nap.”
“And my person scratches me behind the ears and feeds me goose liver pâté once in a while,” commented a wistful Siamese.
“Screw this guy, I’m going back to my person,” said a bob-tailed Manx.
Cutter looked up as the cats seemed to lose interest in him and wander away. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he pulled himself, wobbly, to his feet.
“Help! Help!” Cowpie shrieked as he passed in front of Hussey in the bar. “Alligators, werewolves, mad dogs!” Hussey watched the werewolf chase the clown through the door to the bar and out to the pool area. “Well, now I know what happened to my Loup Garu powder,” she mused. As the clown and werewolf disappeared out the door to the pool area she heard Moreover barking in the kitchen and went to investigate.
“Something out there you want?” Hussey stepped around the barking dog and let him out into the alley.
When he heard the door open behind him and the sound of a growling dog, Cutter knew Hussey had let Moreover out and she would be right behind the homicidal hound. He lifted the lid of the dumpster, sending Stinky leaping to the ground and dove inside. Peeking out from a small slit in the lid of the dumpster, Cutter saw Moreover run past, fooled by his maneuver.
Then he saw Hussey stalk into the alley, the sun flashing off her runcible spoon.
“He’s in the dumpster,” a voice said in Hussey’s head.
“Who said that,” Hussey said aloud, scanning the alley for the speaker.
“Down here,” Stinky said.
Hussey stared at him.
Stinky looked back at her and shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, I can talk. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and I have decided you and I should be friends. Now get that asshole out of my dumpster.”
Bella, Roland and Jones stood staring for a full minute after the clown, followed by a snarling, snapping werewolf, had bolter through the bar. They had watched in disbelief as the clown turned hard right at the bar and sprinted through the door toward the pool, the werewolf nipping at his bare feet. It was one of those moments when something happens that is so patently bizarre that it appears to be happening in slow motion.
“What the hell was that?” Roland said as the door toward the pool area swung closed behind the werewolf.
“That was a clown being chased by a werewolf,” Bella said, matter-of-factly. “I can tell that werewolf was made with voodoo, looks like Mama Wati’s recipe. And if the werewolf hits the pool, he’s going to change back into a man. Water works as an antidote to the werewolf powder,” she said. “I’ve seen it happen.”
When Cowpie reached the pool, he launched himself from the edge and did a perfect belly-flop into the middle of a circle of geriatric zombies. He came up sputtering, his clown makeup running down his face, his pompons soaked and drooping on his jumpsuit.
Clint skidded to a stop, his long sharp nails digging into the tile that skirted the pool. He shied away from the water, circled the pool and growled menacingly at Cowpie.
“Do you see a huge wolf circling the pool, Myrtle?” said the old codger who looked like Wilford Brimley, blinking his eyes, coming out of his zombie trance.
“I see something,” said the painfully thin woman. “It looks kind of like Cecil,” she said nodding toward the man with the thick mat of silver hair on his back. “But Cecil has more hair.”
“But he has more hair in his ears than Clem,” piped up the bald man with caterpillar eyebrows.
“My fingers are all pruney,” said a rotund woman. “How long have we been in the pool?”
“Looks to be about a week, on and off,” Bella said. She was perched in a lounge chair by the pool, having followed the clown and the werewolf out to the pool unnoticed.
“You folks were Mambo’d,” Bella informed them. “It’s zombie powder, but it’s not permanent. The effects apparently wear off after a few days. How do you folks feel?”
“I don’t have motion sickness anymore,” said the bald, caterpillar-browed man.
“I think my diverticulitis is better,” commented the rotund woman.
“Hey, I can breathe better,” said the man with a mat of silver hair on his back and stomach. “I think my asthma is gone.”
“I think we need another round of drinks,” said the Wilford Brimley look-alike as he climbed out of the pool, stepped around the werewolf, and headed, dripping, toward the bar.
Cowpie paced from one end of the pool to the other as the werewolf approached the water and then retreated, whining. Finally, his hatred of the clown overcame his apprehension of the water and Clint stretched out his forepaws and leaped toward Cowpie. He landed in the center of the pool sending the floaters splashing toward the sides.
When Clint hit the water he began to change. First his muzzle shrank back into a human nose, his ears reverted to man-size and his fur was left floating on the top of the water like Sargasso grass as his body submerged.
“What happened?” Clint said as he came up for air.
“Clint?” Cowpie said, stunned by the transformation. “What are you, some kind of werewolf?”
“I don’t know,” Clint replied, brushing the last strands of fur from his arms, “One minute I’m in my hotel room and the next minute I wake up in the pool.”
“He’s lost all his hair,” the thin woman said. “He’s body is as hairless as a newborn baby. Hey mister,” the woman called to Clint, “what kind of depilatory are you using? Maybe you should try that, Cecil.”
“You don’t remember being a horrible, bloodthirsty monster and chasing me down the beach?” Cowpie said to Clint.
“No, he doesn’t,” Bella said. “And the next time he turns into a werewolf, most likely at the next full moon, he won’t remember that either. You must have done something to that man in the past to make him hate you. That’s why he was chasing you. I suggest you make your peace with him right now, or at least before the next moon. You might not be so lucky next time, clown.”
“Truce?” Cowpie extended his hand toward Clint.
“No more tricks?” Clint extended his hand toward Cowpie.
“No more tricks,” Cowpie said, shaking his hand.
“Good. Now you two play nice.” Bella smiled, satisfied the clown and the werewolf would work out their differences. If they didn’t there was the threat of the next full moon to keep Cowpie in line.
She headed back into the bar to check on the other zombies.
Hussey lifted the lid of the dumpster and peered down at a wild-eyed and terrified Cutter.
“Please don’t kill me,” Cutter whimpered.
“Get out of there,” Hussey said, holding the runcible spoon aloft.
Hussey led Cutter back through the kitchen to the lounge, wondering what she was going to do with him. She found a find an old man dripping water on the floor by the bar while he waited for Roland to make a batch of Banana Daiquiris. “Looks like the floaters are back to normal,” Roland said to Hussey as she passed the bar.
Homemade Sin Page 29
