by D. M. Guay
They squirted that bottle—all of it—directly in my face. Globs of sticky mayo goop plopped and oozed, completely filling my open screaming mouth. Mayo pooled in my eye sockets and sucked up into my nostrils. Can't breathe! Dear God. Drowning in mayo. WHY?
I spit and wheezed and tried to flop away like a fish on a boat deck. But these jerks could fly, so they just zipped back and forth, following me, squirting stuff in my face. I tried to swat them away, but that toilet paper really was Ultra Mega Super Strong. I couldn't break free. I was a wiggling, helpless lump on the floor.
Most of the mayo did fling off my eyes, though. When I opened them, I saw a blurry vision of two pixies flying at me with tiny orange cones. Wait. Were those Bugles? What were they gonna do with those?
Hold up. Don't tell me. Yep. They jabbed me right in the eyes with the pointy ends. Ouch! Wait. Holy crap, it burns! It burns! Aaaaaaah! Those weren't ordinary Bugles. They were the Hot Buffalo Bugles! “Oooooooooooow! Help meeee! My eyes!”
“America's #1 Finger Hat,” my butt!
I rolled side to side. It was my only defense. I had hoped that would keep them from squirting anything else in my face, but no. The Bugles were just the start. The pixies tore open a bag of flour and emptied it all over me. A few more fluttered into formation, armed with ketchup, mustard and spicy relish. They tittered and squeezed. Plop. Plop. Splllllllllllllllllp.
Chunks hit my face. Jesus. How many things come in squeeze bottles?
“Lloyd,” DeeDee said. “Hold on. We have a plan.”
A plan? Take your time. I'm kidding. Get me the hell out of here. The pixies had found the Frank's Red Hot. This was not going to end well for me.
I heard a rustling sound, then a zuuuuuuuuuuur. Crinkle. Crinkle. Through my burning eyeballs I could see DeeDee moving in. Thank God. She's gonna save me! With a big piece of foil? Yeah. You heard me. She had her arms stretched all the way out, holding a five foot long stretch of aluminum foil.
This was the plan?
Nope. I'm out. I tried extra hard to lift my arms and pull my hands free, but the stupid stuff didn't break. Man, this toilet paper really was super strong!
Angel eight ball rolled onto my chest. “Geesh. You can't break wet toilet paper? You're in worse shape than I thought.”
“Help me!”
“I'm not coming all the way down there for a few feral pixies.”
Clunk. A can of Vienna sausage hit me right in the forehead. Oooooooow.
“I'm sorry I threw away your Pringles!” I yipped. The pixies didn't notice my apology or care. They were too busy wrestling with the plastic shrink wrap around the Frank's Red Hot cap.
“What are you doing, Kevin? That's not the plan!” DeeDee yelled. Her words did not inspire confidence.
“We're out of Pixie Rid, so I improvised!” Kevin said. “Hey, kid. Duck!”
Dude. Was he blind? I was already on the floor, a helpless toilet paper mummy. I couldn't duck more. I tilted my head back so I could see him. He stood at the end of the aisle with a grill lighter and an aerosol can of cheap hair spray.
Click. Click. Click. A tiny blue flame flickered at the end of the grill lighter. He jumped onto the hair spray nozzle. “Eat this, pixie scum.”
A fireball exploded like a flamethrower, shooting halfway down the aisle. The heat of it melted my eyebrows.
The pixies screeched and retreated, right into DeeDee's aluminum foil. They hit the wrap, and she closed it up tight around them, rolling each pixie in foil like a baseball stadium hot dog. They wiggled and hissed and punched. Pop pop pop.
Wow. I had to hand it to Kevin and DeeDee. That half-ass plan netted most of the pixies. A few scattered, flying up into a heat vent in the ceiling. They slid right through the grates like it was nothing. DeeDee dropped to her knees and pulled the toilet paper off of me. I wiggled, and she tugged until I was finally free. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, because dude. I didn't know what those people put on those Bugles, but my eyeballs were on fire.
“Look at this mess,” Kevin shook his head.
Aisle four was was wrecked. TP. Ketchup. Mustard. Broken bottles of hot sauce. Ripped open bags of flour.
“I vote cleaning crew,” Kevin said. “Whatdaya say?”
“Nice try, Kev, but it's level one and two for a reason,” DeeDee said. “They need something meatier to chew on. You know that.”
“Fine,” Kevin huffed. “You're up, kid. Get the mop.”
Chapter 7
Nope. Can't do it. I'm out.
I did not get the mop. I stood up and walked straight out the front door.
“Where're you going?” Kevin called after me. “You know I'm too short to fill the mop bucket!”
Too bad. I quit. Zone in on that, Kevin.
I stepped out onto the sidewalk and woah. Jesus, it was freezing outside. The night air was cold. It didn't help that I was soaked straight through, head to toe, in condiments like a slutty cheeseburger. I could feel the relish chunks freezing to my skin.
I looked up at the sky. Black. Clear. I took a deep breath. I'm sorry, God. I'm not your guy. I'm not brave. There had to be someone better for this job than me. I scanned the street and the parking lot, hoping the spell would kick in and my replacement would show up. Come on, guy. Or girl. Whoever you are. I'm ready. Any second now. Anyone? Anyone? Hello?
Sigh. Oh well. I couldn't do it. I quit.
Something hit my foot. Ugh. It was angel eight ball. “Wow. Rough night, huh?”
“Ya think?” I'd been at work for an hour and had already been assaulted by miniature nudists. Twice. “Is God punishing me? What did I do to deserve this?”
“Probably nothing,” he said. “Look at poor Job. He got a terrible deal and for what? A bet? Either way, God has a plan for you.”
“You're lying. There is no plan.”
“Oh, you're the expert now? The Bible says, 'No one can fathom the mysteries of God.' Well, okay. I can because I'm an angel, but you? Sorry. You have to roll with it. I wouldn't be here to enforce the plan if there was no plan.”
“Right. So what's the plan then? I'll stay if you tell me why God wants me here.”
“I can't tell you that,” the triangle turned. I could swear I heard him huff. “God works in mysterious ways, remember?”
“You don't know, do you?”
“Yes, I do!” His triangle bobbed in the red liquid. “Well, I know part of it.”
“Not good enough.” I couldn't do this. God had the wrong guy. DeeDee needed someone brave. She deserved better than a chicken shit scaredy cat like me.
“I'm sorry, Gertrude.” I felt like a dirt bag selling her out, but she was nineteen and not exactly the picture of health. She was in God's waiting room already. So with that, I ran as fast as I could toward my bike.
The sky immediately turned angry.
Kunk. Kunk. Kunk.
Golf ball sized hail rained down all around me, and the sky flashed, saturated with lightning. But I kept running, so hard my mayonnaise-soaked thighs burned from rubbing together. Man. What kind of fabric were these jammies made of? It was like boy scouts starting a fire down there.
Kunk. Kunk. Kunk.
Ouch. Hail. Right on the head.
Really baby Jesus? I went to church camp. I saved the world once. I paid my debts. That should be enough! What do you want from me? Why do you want me to work here? Give me a sign!
A bright white light appeared. Jesus? Is that you?
Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
A horn. Was it an angelic trumpet?
Scrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Huh. Jesus must be having a little trouble on the wet pavement.
Thump.
Something big hit me.
Owwwww.
Pain radiated up and down the entire right side of my body. The smell of burning rubber filled my nostrils, then I saw stars. Literally, because I was on my back looking up at the sky, aching all over, partway under the front bumper of the Dolly's Divine Delicacies delivery truck.
&
nbsp; A shadow appeared above me. “Jesus?”
“Not last time I checked.” Bob the Doughnut Guy leaned over me. “You all right, new kid? You're lucky to be alive. You ran right out in front of me. If I hadn't hit the brakes, you'd be mush. You could have died.”
Angel eight ball lolled around by my head, waiting to get a word in. Of course. He stopped, window facing me, and the triangle emerged. “That wasn't Jesus. That was headlights. The van was my idea. Sorry about that, but I had to intervene. We have to keep Gertrude alive. If she dies, He'll go after someone else. Maybe your parents. Or DeeDee. He always gets what He wants. Like it or not.”
“Wow. You're a shitty guardian angel.”
Dread percolated through me. There really was no way out of this, was there? I sat up. Ouch. My muscles were tight, cramped.
DeeDee ran up to me, wrapped her arms around me and squeezed me so tight I thought my head was gonna pop off. Ouch. But, Mmmmm. Her body was so soft and warm and comforting she was like a human wubby.
“Oh, Lloyd. I thought I'd lost you.” She squeezed me for a long time. When she let go, her shirt was soaked in mayonnaise. Her eyes were wet and a little pink. “I'm so glad you're okay.”
Oh shit. Was she crying? Over me?
Angel eight ball's triangle turned again.“DeeDee and Lloyd, sittin' in Galilee. No. Wait. How does it go? DeeDee and Lloyd, sittin' in a tree. K-I-S-S—”
Shut up. I fwapped him away, and he rolled under the tire of the Dolly's delivery van. Jerk.
Bob the Doughnut guy stood up. “Did you hear that?”
He abruptly turned and walked behind the truck, following a sound only he had heard.
“You seriously let a few pixies scare you outta here, kid?” Kevin stood next to me, with two sets of legs on his hips. “After all we've been through?”
“Those pixies tried to kill me.”
“With mayo? By making you delicious? Please.” Kevin rubbed his belly. “Mmmm. Speaking of. I'm starving.”
Just then, Bob the Doughnut guy's booming voice cut through the night. “You! Get outta here. Beat it. Scram!”
A very beefy man—he looked like a wad of raw dough that had been molded into the shape of a bodybuilder, then left out on the counter to rise for too long—sprinted out from behind the van, trotting across the lot fast as a gazelle. It took me a hot minute to realize it was the jogger who came in for a doughnut every night. He had really bulked up. Like really bulked up. He looked like two Lou Ferrignos stuffed into one track suit.
Bob the Doughnut Guy chased after him, his silver-streaked mullet in glorious 80s hair-bands waves flowing behind him. “I told ya, no more! That's the last doughnut you're ever gonna eat. You got me?”
Panting and out of breath, he gave up the chase after about ten steps and resorted to shaking his fist. “You get your cheat meal somewhere else from now on, you hear me? Freak!”
Then he said to us, “Don't sell that guy any more doughnuts, got it? He's cut off. Word from corporate is he's been buying chocolate devil's frosted from multiple stores. Eating ten a night! Look at him. He's pumped up like a beefcake gingerbread man. He's an addict. So don't sell him any more. Not a single one. He can't handle it. It's not safe.”
Not safe? Well, that was the understatement of the century. None of the doughnuts were safe. Touching one chocolate devil's frosted made my hand blow up like a balloon and eating one made Kevin grow to twenty feet tall. How on earth did Dolly's even have a license to bake these things?
Right then, the sky rumbled and flashed green. DeeDee grabbed my arm and held tight as we all looked around.
“Fine! I'm going! I'm going!” I said to God. I started to stand up and thought better of it. Ouch. My all of me hurt.
Angel eight ball, somehow, was in my hand. And he was shaking. “I don't think that's for you.” The triangle turned. An arrow appeared, pointing across the street.
I looked up and saw a green light crackle inside the clouds right above the Monster Burger. Then a spider web of lightning hit Frankenstein right on the bolt. Sparks flew, arcing through the sky like fireworks. Then the sign zzzzrd zzzzrt flickered and fizzled, flipping on. Frankenstein glowed over his pulsing neon bun, as if the lightning had brought the sign back to life.
“Well, that's creepy,” Kevin said. “Its alive! Alive! Am I right? Heh heh.”
No one laughed.
“Frankenstein? Anyone? No?” Kevin said. “Geesh. Tough crowd.”
We were all too busy watching the white board flicker to life. It didn't say, “Hick Sandwich, $3,” like it did when Mr. Jimmy died. It said, “Under New Management. Grand reopening tomorrow. New and Improved No. 1 Monster Burger Combo FREE ALL DAY! Dine in only.”
Huh. Kevin was wrong. I guess someone would buy a restaurant with no customers.
“Come on. We better get inside,” DeeDee helped me to my feet. “Let's get you cleaned up. Kevin. You're in charge of the gate.”
Kevin didn't hear. He was too busy arguing with Bob the Doughnut Guy. “I draw the line at pumpkin spice. That shit ain't coming into my store.”
He walked to the back of the pink van with a still-yelling Kevin perched on his shoulder. “The world doesn't need any more pumpkin spice, Bob. Pumpkin spice is killing my soul.”
“Dolly's Divine Delicacies doesn't make just any old pumpkin spice,” Bob the Doughnut Guy said as he opened the back door. “Besides, we have a contract. When Dolly says you need pumpkin spice, you get pumpkin spice. We ever lead you wrong before?”
Aw man. I sincerely hoped Kevin won this argument. If the glazed with pink frosting and sprinkles could crunch a giant hell spider down to nothing like an ice cube, I didn't want to see the pumpkin spice in action.
DeeDee propped me up and helped me limp—slowly—back inside. I was sore and stiff. Getting hit by a van didn't tickle, that's for sure. She led me through the stockroom door, into the hallway between Faust's deluxe man cave and the posh employee lounge. The lounge where Chef used to make me the best steaks ever. Poor Chef. When the hell beasts showed up, he was the only one of us who didn't make it out of that battle alive. Oh, wait. Chef hadn't really been alive in the first place, had he? He was a zom—nope. I couldn't say it. Couldn't say the z word.
“Are you okay? You look pale,” DeeDee said.
Nope. Not okay.
We stopped in front of the built-in microwave looking box that Ricky had once used to fetch my employee manual from my house. It was clearly some sort of magic portal. She typed my home address, then “Lloyd's bedroom, second floor, clean clothes” into the panel. Light poured from the window and a few seconds later. Ding. She opened it, and my T-shirt and shorts were inside.
I'd like to say they were neat and folded and clean, but come on. I didn't live that life. They were crumpled up, worn at least once, but they weren't coated in mayonnaise, so yay! Until I opened the shirt. It said, “When I fart, you'll be the second to know.” And it had a reasonably fresh nacho cheese stain on it.
Jesus. No wonder I can't get a date.
“Your shirts are so bad they're almost charming. Almost,” she said. “You know, I planned to take you out shopping and for drinks yesterday, but you didn't return any of my calls or texts. Are you avoiding me?”
“Wha? No!” My cheeks flushed hot. So so so hot. While my heart sunk. Avoiding DeeDee? Never! Tell her you love her so hard forever. Tell her, Lloyd! Speak! But my lips flubbed there, bubbing open and closed like a suffocating fish.
It wasn't DeeDee. I just couldn't bear the thought of anything Demon Mart. Faust had given me a fancy new iPhone as part of my save-the-world bonus. I charged it, turned it on, and the first dozen messages that popped up? All updates from Faust about the store reopening. I couldn't deal. I'd turned it off and shut it in my sock drawer. I hadn't even seen DeeDee's texts. I wanted to tell her all of this, but my lips kept on flubbing and none of those words came out.
She smiled to fill the awkward silence, but it wasn't a real smile. It only curled in one corne
r, and her eyes stayed sad. DeeDee typed something in on the microwave box. It lit up, dinged, then she took out a black T-shirt. Neatly folded. It must be hers.
Then she took off her shirt.
Oh. Boy.
You heard that right. She pulled her mayonnaise-soaked T-shirt off. Right in front of me. I swear a 1970s disco porn soundtrack flipped on the second the cotton rose above her belly button. Boom chica bow ow. Time dialed down to slow motion as she lifted her T-shirt up, over her beautiful face, revealing a black lace bra holding her two milky, soft perfect...Oh dear Lord Jesus Christ, you made the perfect woman. My dream is coming true. The good parts!
They were like two perfect perky grapefruits in an underwire. Once the shirt came all the way off, she shook her head back and forth, and ran her fingers through her hair as the shirt fluttered to the floor.
Woah boy. Room spinning. Feeling dizzy. Every single drop of blood in my body had gone south. Ahem. I moved my crumpled clothes over my pants just to cover up anything that might, uh, pop up.
I could swear that DeeDee was bathed in a golden beam of angelic light sent straight down from heaven as she jiggled in slow motion, topless, and unfolded her new clean T-shirt. Boom chicka, hell yeah! And I mean that in the most “holy shit, I totally respect the fuck out of her because she's a bad ass and I love her for her mind, too, ” way. Give me some credit. I'm not a total pig. But hot damn. I am only a man.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
My heart raced. My eyes traced the soft line of her collar bone, the dizzying edge of the lacy strap on her shoulder, the wisp of hair touching her neck, the tall white chef's hat rising up as it moved closer to her. Wait what? Cue record scratch.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
That was not the sound of my heart racing. That was the sound of heavy boots. A greenish gray face appeared over DeeDee's shoulder. Oh God. It was Chef. Zombie chef! Shouldn't he be dead? Like dead dead? He'd been snapped in half!
His head moved back and forth as he sniffed the air, his nose wiggling like a rabbit's. It's like he could smell us—warm, delicious, alive—and was honing in on us with his nose.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
