“Well, that makes perfect sense now!” Notmie said after twenty-two minutes of explanation.
By the time they were done discussing, people had started to notice the two newcomers to the party and began introducing themselves. Notmie quickly noticed a trend in the apparel they all wore. They had shirts similar to himself, but with slight variations in jewels and words. Notmie didn’t realize this at the time, but he’d just spotted a fundamental truth of human nature: if a person has all the influence in the world to get whatever he or she wants, what that person will ultimately request is a jewel-studded shirt that spells out his or her major short-coming.
A man who came up and introduced himself as Paulord (“Father’s name was Notpaul, Mother’s name was OhLord!” Paulord said, making a point to tell them that his mother was the only person in her class with an exclamation point as part of her actual name) was sporting a polo shirt which had Phony written in platinum studs across the front, while a man by the name of Stewhat (father named Stewhoa, mother named What) had Fake written in blue topaz on his button-down. He explained that his name was not pronounced Stew-ut but rather Stew-hat, and both Notmie and Melono found his pronunciation absolutely delightful.
And while there were many good looking people at the party, there were also some of the ugliest homo sapiens you’ll ever set eyes upon.
“They’re only family by marriage,” Melono whispered when she saw Notmie’s face squish up at the sight of the small herd of them huddled in a dark corner.
“Do you always round them up into the darkest corner you can find?”
“No. Fortunately for us, they go there by choice.”
Notmie cringed. “That’s probably for the best.”
Melono nodded.
The tap of a fork on a crystal wine glass was followed by a shatter, followed by roaring laughter. But apparently everyone got the message the tapper was trying to convey, and all attention was drawn to where the tap was initially heard.
The room fell silent.
“Dinner is served.”
Everyone found his or her seat at a gargantuan stretch-limousine-sized table that wrapped around the perimeter of the room. The dinner was to die for, though Notmie was slightly disturbed when it turned out that the entree was served over a bed of angel hair pasta, remembering his traumatic dream from that morning.
As the party became stuffed and content, the noise slowly calmed to a dull, lulling, slurred speech, and everyone was more than happy when a man stood up at the head of the table to say a few words.
“Hello to the Fake family, the Carpenter family, the Liars, the Frauds, the Waltons”—as he said each family name, people from around the room would cheer upon hearing theirs—“the Fakes—”
“You already said them, you boozer!”
“Ahh, yes, I suppose I did. Too much wine for this swine!” And he patted his washboard abs before continuing. “And hello to the…”
The names continued on. Notmie never heard him call the Job family, but then he figured it was probably because he had his father’s name.
Darn my father.
“Did I miss any last names?” asked the speaker. Notmie had wanted to be called, but not that badly; he didn’t want it so badly that he would stand up and speak by himself in front of all these beautiful (and butt-ugly) people.
Then it hit him. They might have called his family’s name, after all!
“Melono, what was my mother’s maiden name?”
“The same as my mother’s maiden name.”
“Finkle?” Notmie asked, hoping to God the name Finkle was nowhere in his lineage.
“No, that’s my dad’s last name. They only called that because I asked them to last year.”
“I thought No was your dad’s first name.”
“That’s not what I meant. I meant that Finkle was my dad’s last name.”
“Oh.” Notmie tried to catch up with where this conversation had gone. “Then what was your mother’s last name?”
“Finkle. She changed it when she married my father.”
“No, I mean before it was Finkle. What was her maiden name?”
“Fraud,” Melono said.
Notmie smiled. “Cool. Then why didn’t you yell when it was announced?”
“Acting a fool is not my thing.”
The speaker cleared his throat and continued with the celebrations. “Now, as a tradition which we’ve carried out since 1882, I’ll read off all the names of the deceased from this year. Hellnoah Scott, age twenty-three; Jerakillitnow Reed, age thirty-seven…” The list went on and on until almost all the party had their heads drooping dangerously near the table. When the list finally stopped, everyone began to cheer.
Notmie leaned close to Melono so he wouldn’t be overheard. “Strange way to remember the dead.”
“It’s more of our way of celebrating that we weren’t on that list,” she replied.
The speaker then continued as he wiped a tear of laughter out of his eye. “Man, that crazy curse did it again. It never fails to catch its victims.” The man chuckled. “I tell ya, I can only look around this room and wonder which of us will be here next year. It’s a mind-boggler, isn’t it? But man, we’re gorgeous while we last!” People seconded this with cheers. “Except for all our spouses! Ha-ha, you know what I’m talking about, Ach.” He pointed to an exceptionally ugly fellow. “Don’t even act like that’s the result of a traffic accident! Ha! Traffic accident my big toe. And speaking of my big toe, I bet it looks better than Ach here’s face!” Everyone laughed, including Ach, so Notmie laughed along with them.
The ridicule went on as the speaker went from ugly spouse to ugly spouse poking fun at each and every one of them in turn. Notmie thought that this was such delightful fun and was sad when it finally ended and people’s plates were cleared and the dancing began.
However, the dancing was pleasant and classy and proved to be just as much fun as the meal. That is, until the disco ball lowered from the ceiling. The light reflecting from it in all directions was drastically multiplied as thousands of individual beams reflected off all of the jewel-studded shirts.
Chaos ensued.
That’s not to say that the dancing stopped, but it just involved more flailing and shielding of one’s eyes. There was also more stepping on each other’s feet.
You would think that after having had this happen at every family reunion since disco balls and jewel studded shirts were invented, they would have realized not to custom order the disco ball with extra reflectors, or even at all. But unearthly beautiful people don’t often learn from their mistakes, and it was practically a tradition now to stumble around for an hour and a half, shielding your eyes for fear of permanent retinal damage while the band played ’70s disco music.
The musicians, not being beautiful themselves, were boxed in by two-way mirrors so that they couldn’t see the unearthly beautiful people but could be viewed by all as they jammed away. They never asked why they had to be caged, due to the generous pay they always received.
The disco ball was drawn back up in the ceiling from whence it came, and everyone had a good laugh at those whose eyes had suffered temporary damage from not reacting fast enough when the beams of light began to shoot every which way.
It was all fun and games until it stopped being fun and games.
Gasps sounded like they were being sucked from people’s bodies as one man, who was suffering from retinal damage, wandered straight into the punch table, knocking off the crystal bowl which became airborne, flew across the room, and eventually crash-landed on his second cousin’s head with a sickening crack and splat.
It was obvious, even before the paramedics came, that this girl was dead. Even those who hadn’t known it when it initially soon caught on, realizing that even if she wasn’t dead from the trauma, she certainly was once the paramedics got hold of her, because who can breathe when they’re completely zipped up in a big, black bag?
She was loaded up on the EMS, which was
waiting outside of the building in case something like this happened, and everyone felt a bit awkward, especially her immediate family.
No one said anything until the victim’s mother began to cry.
“I never pictured her dying like that! Oh what a shame! I had always wished her untimely death would be caused by her unearthly beauty rather than a family member’s temporary Disco Ball Blindness!”
(They had actually named this particular occurrence “Disco Ball Blindness” after the tragic fire of ’78 that wiped out nearly a third of the family. The fire started when one of the blinded relatives had mistaken an electrical cord for a snake and had tried to hack it in two with an axe shortly after the disco ball had been retracted back into the ceiling, causing sparks, and eventually, a blazing inferno. It wasn’t uncommon for them to jokingly ask each other if they had Disco Ball Blindness when a person would overlook something or misjudge distances: “Hey Pops, your shoes are right in front of ya! If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you’ve got yourself some Disco Ball Blindness!”)
The dead girl’s mother was escorted by a few kind relatives to the morgue, and the party continued, a little more upbeat than it had been.
“Hey Dano, I guess she beat the family curse! Got away before it could get her!”
“I don’t know Janot, it seems the curse might’ve gotten her after all, depending on how you look at the situation.”
As the music continued, Notmie leaned over to Melono and whispered (though it was just a whisper relative to the sound that was currently filling the room; in all reality, he shouted it), “ Doesn’t this curse thing creep you out a little bit? I mean, shouldn’t we consider stopping the curse somehow before it kills us all?”
But Notmie was an unfortunate fellow when it came to timing, and he just so happened to start his sentence seconds before the band stopped playing between songs. So, much to his dismay, he found that the whole room had heard most of his comment.
“Stop the curse? Are you crazy, son? No one can stop the curse!” one woman yelled.
“Hey, who do you think you are, anyway? Don’t you know that if you stop the curse, you also put an end to our generations of unearthly beauty? What are you trying to pull here?” hollered another.
Notmie could tell he was outnumbered, but he spoke up on his own behalf anyway. “Don’t you think it would be better to just be beautiful rather than unearthly beautiful if it meant we don’t all die in horribly painful ways?”
Judging by everyone’s reactions, it was pretty much unanimous throughout the room that Notmie was crazy.
“You’re crazy.”
It was Melono who said it, and it was everyone else who murmured in agreement.
“Fine! I’ll show you!” He pointed at Melono. “I’ll show you all!”
He turned to leave, but, thanks to remnants of Disco Ball Blindness, smashed headfirst into a support beam. He backed up and tried to go around it again, which was successful for the most part, although he did clip his shoulder on it as he passed, which hurt more than he let on.
He stomped out of the hotel and found that the crowd had finally dispersed. He tried to hail a taxi, but that’s not what pulled up to the curb.
Blast! It’s that damned French-speaking limo driver again.
Part 4
The Caped Avenger
Notmie jumped into the back of the limo, despite the fact that he was in no mood to speak French at that current time.
“ERE tOOO?” squeaked the limo driver
“Ach, don’t you speak English?”
The driver nodded emphatically. “EES, I OO.”
“Hmmm,” said Notmie. “He probably doesn’t speak English, which means he doesn’t understand my question, so maybe if I ask him in his language…” He cleared his throat and gave it a shot. “Dooo OO speeeeek EEngleesh?”
“Uv cOURse.”
Damn French limo driver!
He then knew he would have to take matters into his own hands… literally. He began gesturing wildly with his hands as he spoke, trying to convey to the driver what he was saying.
“Me”—he pointed to himself—“drive”—he acted as if he were steering the car (though if he really used the steering wheel like this, the car would be weaving from lane to lane)—“you”—pointed to the driver—“OUT!” and he flung his hands in the direction of the limo door. Of course all the flailing was unnecessary, since the limo driver understood every word perfectly.
The driver unbuckled, opened the door and stepped out of the car. Notmie jumped out of the back, and just as he was about to get into the driver’s seat, he saw unearthly beautiful family members coming after him in herds out of the front doors.
I knew I shouldn’t have wasted so much time with this French idiot!
And speaking of the French idiot, he fainted on the sidewalk as soon as he saw the tidal wave of Notmie’s gorgeous relatives rushing in his direction. Unfortunately for him, the ambulance had already left with its “black bag special” as so many had jokingly referred to it, so there was no ambulance to help him off the ground.
Notmie sped away as quickly as possible. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he knew he was going to get there quick.
Where should I go?
You should go home.
I don’t have a home!
You should go to Melono’s home.
But that’s where she’ll go!
You should just keep driving then.
Yes, I’ll keep driving.
Driving without a destination quickly became dull for Notmie, so he began looking for other means of amusement. As always, the first thing he resorted to was looking at himself in the mirror. He looked in the rear view mirror just to the side of his head.
“Hey there, gorgeous,” he began. “What beautiful eyes you have.” And in a girlish voice he replied, “The better to make you fall in love with me.” And now he looked in the driver’s side rear view mirror. “And what beautiful teeth you have.” Then he replied in the same girlish voice, “The better to make you fall in love with me.” And finally, he looked in the passenger’s side mirror. “And what beautiful hair you have!” And girlishly again: “The better to make you fall in love with— Holy crap!”
Notmie swerved but not quickly enough. The pedestrian’s body crashed into his windshield.
His brakes screeched as he came to a sudden stop, making the body launch forward onto the road.
“Oh no, I’ve killed him…” He jumped out of the limo and ran to where the body fell. But the body wasn’t lying limp on the ground like he thought it would be. Instead, the body was standing up… and wearing a cape?
“Dude, are you all right?” asked Notmie.
The prematurely balding man brushed himself off a bit and assured Notmie he was fine. After Notmie felt certain that there would be no lawsuit filed, he introduced himself.
“We haven’t been properly introduced. My name is Notmie.” And he held out his hand.
Something seemed to register in the man’s brain for an instant before he dismissed it. “Captain Alex.” They shook.
And then Captain Alex did something Notmie didn’t expect (although maybe he should have since the guy was wearing a cape, calling himself Captain, and just got hit by a car). Captain Alex put two fingers to his forehead and saluted Notmie with an upwardly swooping motion of the hand from his head. Notmie, not sure what the heck to do, did the same.
“What’s that all about?” asked Notmie.
“That’s how you salute me.”
“But don’t salutes usually have the person’s hand go down from the forehead?”
Captain Alex shook his head. “No, no, no… It’s not a typical salute like they do in the army, it’s more of a ‘hats off to you’ thing.”
“Then could I do this?” Notmie grabbed the imaginary bill of an imaginary hat, which he imagined on his head and imaginarily tipped it. “Could I just tip my hat to you?”
“No, that’s not how it works
. You have to do it like this.”
Captain Alex demonstrated again. Notmie did it properly.
“That’s how we do it,” Captain Alex said, and he began to laugh.
The laughing made Notmie feel extremely awkward.
“Umm, you seem to have some sort of head injury,” he said, “do you want me to give you a ride to the hospital or something?”
The Captain waved him off. “Pshh, no, no, no. If I end up needing to go there, I’ll just fly myself.”
“I really don’t know if I believe you can fly, and this conversation has been a bit weird. Can we just try again?”
Before Captain Alex could reply, Notmie turned around, took two steps in the other direction then about-faced toward Captain Alex. Notmie held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Notmie.”
“Hello, I’m Captain Alex. I know we just met, but could I hitch a ride?”
“Depends on where you’re going.”
Captain Alex nodded understandingly. “That makes sense. I’m going to I don’t know where.”
“Oh good!” Notmie grinned and slapped Captain Alex on the shoulder. “Me too.”
And they walked back toward the limo.
Once they were both inside and fastening their seat belts, Notmie turned to The Captain and asked two things: “Where should we go, and why are you in the driver’s seat?”
“Well, where do you want to go?” asked The Captain, ignoring the second question.
“I don’t even know…” Notmie shook his head dejectedly. “All I know is that I have to do something to stop this twisted curse that my family has been plagued with for generations.”
“Sounds cool. Maybe I can be of some assistance, what kind of curse are we talking about?”
Notmie cleared his throat and began to give a history of it, from the mishap with Opposite Day up to the family reunion from which he had just escaped. Captain Alex stared with unwavering attention until the whole story was finished.
“Man, and to think I had grown up my whole life never knowing the Opposite Day part of that story…”
The Fraud Page 3
