“Why do you think this is just an act, Melono? I could be… er… intelligent.”
“You know, the fact that you just had trouble recalling the word ‘intelligent’ proves that I have something you don’t. Do you know what that is, Notmie?”
Notmie spoke hesitantly. “Boobs?” He quickly fell silent after realizing from the reactions of the others that, no, “boobs” was not the answer she was looking for.
“Erm. Well, you’re right,” Melono said, looking physically uncomfortable, “but that’s not what I was getting at. In fact, I think you just demonstrated what the difference is: intelligence.”
Larry chuckled. “Go on, Notmie, finish your analysis.”
“My what? Oh. Oh. That. Right. The second part, ‘The answers sought are in your head’ is, I think, referring to the answers we were looking for during the meeting with your mother? Maybe not, but I think we’re supposed to think about our own questions to find the answers. That’s where I get a little bit stuck.” At that point, Notmie’s voice trailed off, and he looked up to the others for help.
“Well,” said Quiche’awn, looking down at Notmie, “it was a good effort, thus far, but I see where you, Notmie, might get stuck on such an idea as this.”
“Perhaps,” Notmie began, “but I’m unearthly beautiful, so shouldn’t that help me figure out the answers? It usually helps me get what I want, and since I want to know answers, shouldn’t it help me?”
“Notmie, I thought you were getting smart on us, what happened?” asked Melono.
“Ahh, but what could possibly be more useful than beauty?” Larry mused. “I don’t suppose any of you have an answer to that, now do you?”
Larry scanned the room. He found that two of the three people were avoiding his eye contact, apparently at a loss for words, while the other stood with her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at Larry with all her might while attempting to control the anger that seemed to be bubbling under the surface.
“Yes, Larry, actually I have a damn good answer that these buffoons should know but apparently cannot possibly comprehend. What’s better than beauty? Try substance. Mental substance.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Notmie sat upright, still on the floor, and put his hand on Melono’s calf, intending to calm her down. “You really don’t need to get that heated on this subject. Besides, you don’t look as unearthly beautiful when you’re angry.”
The thud that resulted from Melono’s foot making contact with Notmie’s chest was something so satisfying that Notmie’s grunt was drowned out by the involuntary “Ooo” that issued from Larry and Quiche’awn.
Notmie was on his back again, but this time, he was gasping for air.
“What–did–you do–that–for?” Notmie wheezed.
“You just don’t get it, do you Notmie?” She looked down at him with ultimate disgust before rounding on Quiche’awn. “And you! You’re supposed to be some sort of enlightened person now! I thought you were smarter than this! How could you be so keen on your new identity and not realize what’s better than beauty? You seemed like you were getting so deep, but it turns out you’re just as shallow as the puddle on the floor in front of me!” She pointed to Notmie.
“What did I do?” Quiche’awn asked.
“More like what didn’t you do, and in this case, the answer is change. You acted like you were reformed from your stupid, superficial ways, and I actually began to believe it myself, but now I know I was wrong.”
“Ohh. So I made you feel stupid by proving you wrong and being shallow again, is that it?”
“No! Well, okay, partially. Yes, I guess that is the main reason I’m angry with you. But also because you should know that being a good, intelligent, and complete person is more important that just being unearthly beautiful! I don’t expect Notmie to realize that completely, or even at all, because he’s blinded by his own good looks, but I didn’t expect you to have that problem.”
Quiche’awn seemed to be considering what Melono had to say very carefully. He rubbed his chin as he did so. “So, basically, you’re saying that because I’m not attractive, I should at least be intelligent or have some sort of redeeming quality?”
Melono nodded, relieved that he finally seemed to understand.
But a switch seemed to have flipped in Quiche’awn, and his serenity was squashed by good old indignation. “How dare you point out my physical flaws. Just because you and Notmie are so dang pretty doesn’t mean the rest of us are ugly! I suppose you think Larry’s unattractive too!”
“No, not really. I think he’s handsome and has aged very well.”
“Why, thank you!” said Larry.
“Bu—but—but… how dare you point out my physical flaws!” Quiche’awn was growing red-faced as his arms stood stiffly against his sides and his hands made fists so tight his knuckles whitened.
“Is that all you care about?” Melono continued. “The fact that I called you unattractive? You don’t care about the fact that I said you had no redeeming personality traits to make up for your bald-headed, cape-wearing self? That’s wacky! Just plain loony! What is wrong with you people?”
“But I got rid of the cape! I got rid of it for you… I mean, for me… I mean, for you!”
She couldn’t take it anymore; she turned on her toes and stomped out of the kitchen.
Quiche’awn pulled out a chair from under the table and flopped himself down, putting his elbows on his knees and propping his head up with his hands. Larry pulled up a chair next to Quiche’awn and sat facing him.
“You really were making such good progress, what happened?” His voice was comforting, not the least accusatory.
“I–I don’t know,” Quiche’awn replied dejectedly. “I guess she just gets to me because I know she’s usually right.”
“Hello!” Notmie’s voice traveled up from the floor as he still struggled to regain his breath. “Is it normal for your chest to feel like it’s bleeding on the inside?”
Larry and Quiche’awn ignored him.
“Well, why do you think she’s usually right?” asked Larry. “That is to say, why can’t you be usually right?”
Notmie felt determined to be heard. “I’m serious guys, it really feels like it’s bleeding on the inside. Maybe a cracked rib?”
“You know, Larry, that’s a good question. Maybe if I just apply my mind to interesting questions like that, I could become more like Melono.”
Larry beamed and placed his hand on Quiche’awn’s shoulder. “I think you’re closer than you know.”
Notmie: “No, seriously, y’all, I think there’s fluid in my lungs.”
“So, do you think I could possibly help figure out the dream riddle?” Quiche’awn looked expectantly at Larry.
“I think you already know the answer to that.”
Quiche’awn put his face in his hands and mumbled inaudibly.
“What’s that?” Larry asked.
Quiche’awn mumbled again.
Larry moved his ear closer to Quiche’awn. “I still didn’t catch that.”
Uncovering his face, Quiche’awn yelled, “I’m just feeling really emotional right now, okay?”
He began to sob uncontrollably.
* * *
Upon storming out of the kitchen, Melono headed to the den to continue pacing. The sun was now well above the horizon and flooded blindingly into the window, casting dark shadowy silhouettes across the furniture as Melono passed.
Why was she so bothered? She knew they were idiots, Notmie and Quiche’awn—awe, screw calling him Quiche’awn; he was Alex to her. The only reason she called him Quiche’awn was because she thought there had truly been a change in him during the time Notmie was unconscious, but now she knew she was wrong, so from now on, he was Alex to her.
She thought he had become someone she could relate to, someone who was sturdy and able to comprehend complex things, but she was wrong. Was that why she was mad, because she was wrong? No, because Notmie made her mad too, and she kne
w he was an idiot. What was it then? Was she just PMSing? No, that definitely wasn’t it, and screw anyone who might suggest it!
Maybe she was just angry because she wanted to be like they were. After all, it must be nice to live in an oblivious stupor all day long. But that was ridiculous; she couldn’t do that and still be happy with herself. Maybe she was just being too hard on them; maybe she should just go back and apologize for being so harsh. Notmie’s chest was probably hurting him pretty badly. If there was one thing she could do to defend herself adequately it was kicking.
“Fine!” she finally spat. “Fine, I’ll go apologize, though odds are, it’s more than they deserve.”
She was just about to enter the kitchen again when she heard someone burst into tears. She stood by the doorway, just out of sight, and listened.
“Larry, I know that the riddle says I have to use my own brain, but it’s too hard. Melono can do it, but I can’t, and now she hates me and thinks I’m a waste of space. She doesn’t realize that I have made progress since Notmie thought himself into a coma thingy! She doesn’t realize why I made that progress! She doesn’t realize I made it because I had her to talk to! She doesn’t realize that I… I…” Quiche’awn stopped. He softened his voice as he continued.
“She’s everything I can’t be, and everything I want to be. Now she hates me and thinks I’m nothing more than a superficial, balding loser, but the truth is, she’s right. I’m nothing more than a cape-wearing, cap-tanned, bitter, French-hating, balding loser; nothing more than someone who doesn’t deserve her conversation or her company. And to top it all off, she thinks I’m ugly!”
Hmm, Melono thought . I don’t think I was supposed to hear that. I should probably go so that I don’t hear anything else.
But her curiosity wouldn’t let her leave.
“Larry, what am I supposed to do?” Quiche’awn pleaded.
From the floor, Notmie spoke. “You could start by calling me an ambulance for this internal bleeding.” Then, in a hushed whisper, “I can see angels… all around me now…”
Quiche’awn begrudgingly stood up and bent over to help Notmie off of the floor and into a chair.
“Will you quit whining, Notmie? You’re fine. You’re not going to die, you’re just bruised.”
Melono, figuring there was nothing more to hear, and not wanting the others to know she had been listening, went to the den to consider what she had just heard.
“Take off your shirt, Notmie,” Larry instructed.
“My pleasure, or rather, it will be your pleasure.” He winked at Quiche’awn.
Quiche’awn cringed. “Good lord, Notmie, cut that out. We’re not buying what you’re selling. You can be such a creep. He wants you to take off the shirt so that he can see your chest. I mean, so that he can see if your chest is bruised.”
Notmie shrugged but didn’t seem convinced.
Larry inspected the quickly rising lump right above Notmie’s chiseled peck.
“Well, if there’s one thing we can say for sure about Melono, it’s that the girl knows how to kick. But I seriously doubt there’s any internal bleeding. Sorry to break it to you, Notmie, but I think you’re going to live through this.”
“What can I say? I’m a survivor.”
“Notmie.” Quiche’awn narrowed his eyes. “Did you really think you saw angels?”
“It was either that or the specks of dust floating in the air.”
“Okay, my guess is that you just saw the specks of dust. Are you sure you know what angels are?”
Notmie chuckled. “Psh, of course I do. They live in magic lamps and you can make wishes on them and they sprinkle their fairy dust on you so that you can fly and if you catch them they’ll be your slave.”
“Um.” Quiche’awn was really baffled by this one. “I’m not sure if you’re talking about genies, shooting stars, fairies, leprechauns, or…something else entirely, but I’m pretty sure you’re not talking about angels.”
“Pff, you’re just jealous because you didn’t get to see them. They were everywhere but you were too busy crying like a baby about Melono not liking you that you missed seeing them.”
Looking horror-struck, the color drained from Quiche’awn’s face.
“You mean you were actually paying attention to that conversation? I thought you were just thinking about dying! Notmie, you cannot tell Melono what I said! You have to promise me that no matter what happens, you will not under any circumstances tell Melono what you heard, okay?”
“Sure thing.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, no problem.”
“Wait, are you serious? You won’t tell her?”
“Nope.”
Quiche’awn still looked skeptical.
Larry chuckled then turned to Quiche’awn. “Looks like you have no choice but to trust him. Maybe you should go check on Melono, try to mend things a bit. It wouldn’t hurt, would it?”
Quiche’awn’s shoulders slumped sullenly. “True, she already thinks I’m a miserable person, I guess I can only go up from here.”
Quiche’awn left the kitchen to set things straight.
Larry watched as he left, then turned to Notmie.
“And as for you, what say we try to finish figuring out that riddle?”
Part 18
Lawrence the Lobster’s Letter
“What was the next part?” Larry said, pulling Notmie from whatever unfathomable thoughts he had slipped into during the past few seconds.
Notmie tried to remember, straining almost to the point of blacking out, before realizing that the next part was on the fridge.
He walked over to it and read off the next few lines. “‘Look through yourself—deep in your heart.’ Well, that seems to go along with the line before it, doesn’t it? Then we have, ‘A hefty sum you first will spend before you can this curse transcend.’ That means money’s involved in the curse, right? Or to break this curse we’re going to need some money, is that right?”
“One of those is, I believe,” said Larry. “But no mistaking the involvement of an unpleasant sum of money in some form or fashion.” He studied Notmie. “Are you wealthy?”
Notmie had to think about that. He’d never actually thought about wealth in relation to himself. He’d never needed to because whenever he needed something, he got it. People simply gave things to him every day. His looks were a form of legal tender as far as he was concerned, and that was that.
He turned away from the fridge to face Larry, where he sat at the table. “I suppose you could say I’m wealthy. I get everything I need, but not because of money.”
Larry seemed tickled by this response, though Notmie couldn’t figure out why.
“Well, I think you’re going to have to ‘cash in’ on your looks, so to speak, before this whole thing is done. What sort of assets do you have?”
“Ass—whats?”
“Assets, Notmie, assets.” But Notmie still didn’t understand. “What sort of things do you own that could be worth money?”
“Does my charming smile count?”
“No.”
“Really? That’s strange. Well then, I suppose none. Are you sure the smile doesn’t count?”
Larry rolled his eyes. “Positive.”
“What about the nice, thick hair?”
“Nope.”
“The perpetually shimmering eyes?”
“Oh, please.”
“The chiseled abs?”
“Give me a break, Notmie.”
“So, that’s a no?”
“Yes, it’s a no.”
“What about this shirt?”
“Notmie, will you cut it out?” It was uncharacteristic for Larry to lose his cool, but if anyone could drive him to it, it was Notmie. “You know what I mea— Wait. Are those real diamonds?”
Now it was Notmie’s turn to be exasperated. “Puh- leeze! You think I would wear around a shirt that was anything but? Psh, you must not think I have very good taste if you believe I would.�
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Larry leaned back in his chair and groaned. This was almost too much for a saint to deal with, let alone a simple prophet’s son like Larry. Notmie could very well be a de-saint-er.
“How attached are you to that shirt, Notmie?”
Notmie put his hand under his chin and considered the question… and considered it, and considered it until Larry finally interrupted.
“Notmie, I asked a question. I’d appreciate an answer.”
“Well, after considering the matter fully, I’ve decided that I’m quite attached to this fine garment.” He nodded his head in appreciation for his sophisticated phrasing, which was what he had been formulating during his extended pause.
“Why are you suddenly speaking like that? No, never mind, I won’t bombard you with questions all at once. One question at a time. Why are you attached to that ‘fine garment’?”
Notmie kept his air of formality as he proceeded to answer the question. “Well, you see, this is the only shirt I have with me, otherwise the emotional connection wouldn’t be nearly as populated.”
Larry needed a moment. He wasn’t used to dealing with people like this, so his patience had become quite out of shape lately. Not to mention his mother hadn’t informed him that he would be dealing with such a laborious conversation. It always put him in a sour mood when Mother intentionally omitted information for what she explained to be opportunities for “character building.”
Breathe, Larry told himself. It’s not worth losing your cool.
So he asked, calmly, slowly, “What does an emotional connection have to do with population? I think you meant a different word, in which case, maybe you should—I never thought I would say this to you—just stick to speaking like you usually do rather than using more vocabulary. That way, we can successfully communicate.”
“Fine. No, I’m not too attached to the shirt, but for now, it’s the only one I have with me. But like I said, I can usually get whatever I want without money, so…”
Larry sighed with relief. “Okay! Now I understand what you’re saying.” He allowed himself a few deep breaths, then motioned for Notmie to have a seat at the table. Once Notmie did, Larry continued. “So if I gave you one of my shirts, you would be willing to part with that shirt you have now?”
The Fraud Page 17
