by D. M. Guay
Kevin wasn't laughing. Or interested. He was rolling his eyes. DeeDee led Hunter over to the stool. She had a giant fuzzy dog bed under one arm, and a shopping bag in the other. “I do have good news. I stopped by the store and picked up a few things that might help with our ghost problem. But first. Come on, boy. Let's get you all settled in.”
She plopped the dog bed in front of the weapons safe and led him to it by his leash, which somehow magically floated around his ghost neck.
“Uh. How does that work exactly? He doesn't have a body.”
“Beats me,” she shrugged. “He really, really wanted it. I've been thinking. Floating tea cups. Floating leashes? Maybe that's how hauntings work. Ghosts who really want something.”
“Hauntings?”
“Duh.” She looked at me, then pointed at Gunther and Kevin. “What do you think this is?”
The store flashed blue.
Aaah! Ghost! Oh wait. Never mind.
The beer cave door kicked open. Morty stepped out, thumbs sunk in a giant silver belt buckle, spurs clinking the linoleum. He looked like a TV show cowboy. Plaid shirt, snakeskin boots, leather chaps. “Say, pardner. Did you move my love bed? Don't throw it away. I like to have at least one emergency stabbin' cabin ready to go at all times. Always gotta have a backup, know what I mean?”
I knew what Morty meant. And let me just say, ew.
His jaw dropped when he caught sight of DeeDee, holding Hunter's leash. “Well, smack my ass and call me Charlie. Hallelujah! Don't get started without me. I'll be right back.”
He stepped back into the beer cave.
DeeDee scratched Hunter behind the ear. “Who's a good boy?”
“I'm a good boy.” Hunter yawned. “We'll get those squats in after my nap, okay Champ?”
Then, he smiled and panted and walked in little circles around and around on the dog bed, before plopping down in the middle, curled up in a ball. Like a dog.
“This is so weird.”
“Tell me about it.” DeeDee tossed that red squeaky bone toy into ghost Hunter's lap. Well, through his lap.
Morty kicked open the beer cave door, and I immediately wished I could take my eyeballs out to wash them. Even Glug dove into the coffee can to hide. Because Morty was no longer a cowboy. Oh, he still had the boots on, but the rest of the outfit was gone, replaced by a leopard print man thong paired with some sort of leather harness thing and a studded dog collar. He held a leather whip.
“Uh. Isn't that a bit much for the Temptations Tavern crowd?” DeeDee said. “I thought Friday was country night.”
“Don't play coy with me. I see what's going on here.” Morty purred and boot scooted on up to DeeDee, leopard thong thrusting. “I've waited so long. Finally! I'm ready, baby. I'm all yours.”
DeeDee stood wide eyed as Morty handed her a leash. The other end attached to a ring in his studded collar. He handed her the whip. Then he turned around and waved his bare-thonged hiney at her. “I've been bad. So, so bad.”
“Um. Morty. What are you doing?”
“You know what I'm doing. Come on, girl. Spank it. I deserve to be punished.” He looked back at her, then down at Hunter and said, “Is this not how you want me to play it? Hold on. Let me start again.”
He cleared this throat and said, “Arf?”
“Oh my God.” DeeDee's hands shot to her mouth. “I think I just threw up in my mouth. Yeah. Yeah. I did.”
Me, too. Me. Too.
Glub glub. Glug, too.
“Don't tease me, baby. I been waiting forever. He's your dog. I wanna be your dog, too. That's what we're doing here, right? I'll lay at your feet.” Morty pointed at Hunter. “You got room for one more in there. The three of us can make a pack. Three's a good number for other things, too.”
Morty's eyebrows jumped up and down.
DeeDee went green, then gulped down another tonsil tickler. She handed Morty's whip back. “Sorry. That is not what is going on here.”
Morty slumped. He looked as deflated as a Valentine's Day helium balloon on Easter Sunday. “You sure?”
“Oh, I'm sure. It's not too late for the cowboy. And we still have your mattress. It's in the cooler. Zack's using it right now.”
Morty stood up, stick straight, wiggled his collar, and sniffed the air. His hips moved in slow circles. DeeDee tried really, really hard not to look. We both did, but I swear his thong was practically glowing, so it was hard—uh, I mean, really difficult—not to stare. “Oommm. You all feel that? There's been a disturbance in the sexy force.”
Morty adjusted his package.
Okay, then. Moving on.
“Anyway.” DeeDee focused instead on the shopping bag she'd lugged in. “I learned a few things from Hunter. Ghosts are happiest when they're doing the things they did when they were alive. That gave me an idea. It's worth a shot. Here. Put a couple of these in each corner. It might keep Gunther and Hunter away from the human customers. Junebug has enough to deal with on day shift.”
DeeDee opened the shopping bag. It was filled with free weights. All shapes and sizes. The girl was a bonafide genius.
“Get over here and help me, kid!” Kevin screamed.
Zack dropped one of Kevin's records on the turntable as Kevin waved his blue legs. “Careful! Don't you dare scratch that. Watch your big boney mitts! Blah blah blah.”
Kevin didn't actually say “blah blah blah.” He said something else, but I absolutely did not hear it. I couldn't have even if I wanted to, because all the blood from my big brain packed up and headed south. To my little brain.
Because a naked woman had stepped into the store. Well, mostly naked. She wore the tiniest thong I had ever seen—tied in little bows at the hips—and spiky platform heels. Her hair was long and blonde in thick, lustrous waves. I mean, I think she was blonde. It was hard to tell for sure because she was blue, head to toe. And see-through. But hot damn, she was the hottest, curviest see-through ghost dancer I had ever seen. She could haunt me all day long.
Morty pointed like a dog, with his nose and his. Um. You know. “Who is this majestic creature? I've never seen a woman so beautiful. Well, apart from your mom. She's still my number one. But this broad is a close second.”
I opened my mouth to object, but Morty clapped his hand over it. “Shhh. Don't scare her away! I told you there was a shift in the sexy force.”
“Is that a thing?” I said, but it sounded more like “Im mwhat a fwing?” through Morty's hand.
“Yes it is, my man. I can't believe my luck. This is it! I've always wanted to dip my wick in a human ghost, but the reapers get 'em so quick, I've never even gotten close! She's my unicorn.”
His bottom lip quivered, and a solitary tear rolled down his cheek. “Never stop dreamin', my man, because dreams do come true! They absolutely do.”
DeeDee turned around, took one look at the dead naked babe, and said, “She doesn't work out at Bubba's.”
The naked ghost stripper stood there, curling the end of her hair, smacking her gum, looking bored, until she spotted the crumpled up dollar bill on the welcome mat.
Huh. The fat guy must have dropped it. Didn't matter, because she was on that dollar like a cat on catnip. Except her ghost hands kept going right through it.
“Hi, Candy. Did you get off work early?” Zack waved at her. Then his shoulders slumped. “Uh oh. It happened again, didn't it?”
Kevin got a look on his face like someone was pounding his temples like bass drums. “Let me guess. When you went outside earlier, did you happen to float across the street to the titty bar?”
“The sign was so bright and twinkly. And the human world is so amazing. And I'm so loneeeeeeeleeeeeeeeeee.”
“Let me guess. You got a lap dance.”
“Is that what they call it? Whatever it was, it was really great. I mean. Until she stopped moving? I thought she fell asleep.”
“How'd you pay for that? Angels don't use human money.”
“I used the little rectangles from the machine.�
�� He pointed. At the register.
Oh shit.
“I hate my afterlife.” Kevin rubbed his eyes for a long time, then said, “Which one of you is gonna call Mel and tell him he's got a dead feature dancer in the VIP room? One, two, three: Not it.”
Chapter 13
The store went arctic cold, and even the ghost stripper felt it, judging by her nipples. Not that I was looking, but I was totally looking. I couldn't help it. I'm a man!
Zack dropped the needle on the record.
As Dio tinkled from the speakers, Angel hit me in the foot. “Great. Another point for lust. I told you to cut it out. Your audit is coming up. You have enough sin as it is. Wait. Is she dead? Is she a strip—Oh, no. He didn't. He did, didn't he? I can't believe this. Hurrrr. Hurrrrrr. Hurrrrrrrrrrr.”
The beer cave door kicked open, sending Angel eight ball skidding into the stool. I swear I heard watery sobs as he flew. Bubby, giant and fat and happy, ducked through the door.
“Good news, Bubby,” DeeDee said. “Backlash 2000 came in yesterday. I hear the Rock does a Double Rock Bottom through a table in this one. It's going to be amazing!”
As soon as his head cleared the door, the smile slid off Bubby's pincers. He froze. His eight white eyes darted back and forth between ghost Gunther bobbing for doughnuts, ghost Kevin trying in vain to flip records, and the naked chick fishing for dollars on the welcome mat. Bubby swallowed hard. He swayed back and forth, sweating. Shards of ice dropped off of him like melting icicles.
“You okay, man?”
He didn't answer me.
“Step back, foul beast!” A cry echoed through the store. A blue shape arced through the air. It was Hunter. He flew, fists ready to rain punches down on the unsuspecting Bubby. “Have no fear. I'll save you alllll!”
“Hunter, no!” DeeDee screamed. “He's our friend!”
Too late. Bubby took one look at Hunter and put his claw-tipped arms out to dull the impact. Bloop blap bluuuuuuuuu!
Translation: “Who the hell is this guy?” Or “Not in the face.” Or “Mommy!”
I wasn't a hundred percent sure, but it was definitely one of those.
Hunter didn't land a hit. He went right through Bubby's gelatinous body, which was worse. Bubby stopped moving. His eyes went wide. He got that same spaced out, horrified look that the tubby guy had when Gunther fell through him.
That's when Zack decided to float straight down the chip aisle with his bone hand out to introduce himself. “Hi. Are you Bubby?”
And that was it. Bubby passed out cold and fell splat, right on top of me and Morty and the coffee can filled with Glug.
Ow.
As I lay sandwiched between a giant, unconscious, jelly centipede from hell, the ghost of a gill guy, and an incubus pervert in a leopard print thong, I looked to the sky and asked, “Jesus, haven't I been through enough?”
“Hang tight, guys. I'll get Bubby up and moving.” DeeDee waved an open bag of Smart Pop under his nose like it was smelling salts.
He sat up. I did not. I just laid there, clutching Glug, who was slowly leaking out of his now-crushed coffee can. My ribs felt like they'd been steamrollered.
Morty hopped up out of there, full blazes. Downstairs. If you know what I mean. He winked at me and said, “Not the worst sandwich I've ever been in.”
Oh, God. Ew.
Zack said, “Bubby. I've been waiting—”
Bubby froze. Then, plap. He passed out, splayed across on the floor. Again.
“—to meet you.” Zack slumped.
Popcorn arced through the air, raining down over Bubby's fat jelly blue body. The cleaning crew was right on that. Because they seemed to materialize out of nowhere in any situation that involved food.
“Eee. What the hell are those?” Morty pointed. With his finger this time. Thank God.
“I'm not sure I want to know at this point.”
“Just keep ‘em out of my way. I got a unicorn to saddle.” He straightened out his dog collar and hip thrust right on over to the welcome mat, where Candy still grabbed at the dollar bill. “What's your name, beautiful?”
I couldn't look away. Because hello. Dead or alive, there's a stripper on the welcome mat. I stared at her as she jiggled, for so long I didn't even notice when the pizza guy showed up.
Wait. Pizza guy?
Uh oh. The pizza guy was also enjoying the Candy show, eyes wide, staring at her ass—ets, as she bent down for that dollar. Unfortunately, he was see-through. And blue. Because he was the pizza guy who took one look at Zack and died horrifically today.
“Shit. Another one?” Kevin said. “We didn't order a pizza. We're full up. Scram.”
Pizza guy looked at his ghost receipt. “This Transmundane Gate 23, Sector 17, Cemetery Boulevard?”
Kevin rubbed his eyes. “Yes.”
“That'll be thirteen fifty,” pizza guy said. “And this music is terrible. You got any WeekNd?”
“I'll kick you into next weekend.” Kevin said. “Are you testing me, God?”
Zack floated up to the pizza guy. “No one came to get you yet? Huh. Wow. Head Office is really running behind.”
“Uh, Lloyd.” DeeDee tugged on my sleeve. “Who is this?”
“Who?” I turned around. A blue man stood by one of the reach in coolers. And no, not the kind with drums and a Vegas show. A glowing, see-through blue man. He had a cane in his hand, dressed head to toe in ethereal tweed.
Uh oh.
It was the old guy who snuffed it in the mailbox today. He looked up and around like he was lost, mumbling, “This is the strangest post office I've ever seen. Where's my letter? I need to mail it today.”
He patted his pockets.
“Excuse me.” A blue nose, attached to a blue face, floated out of the candy aisle. “Can you point me to the Necco Wafers? They're my favorite candy. They're so hard to find these days. I was told that you sell them here.”
Oh no. It was the old lady from the bus. She didn't pass out. She died!
DeeDee said, “Where are they all coming from?”
I did not want to answer her. Because I did not want to believe it, but it was true. Hell Report got it right. Three at Bubba's. Three today. Plus Candy. Which can only mean one thing: Zack the reaper was still reaping. Illegally. It didn't matter that he was a nice guy. He was a stone-cold killer.
“Hey, kid. Get over here.” Kevin dug his fists into his carapace and shot me a look that would have lasered a lesser man down to dust.
I walked to the counter. Slowly. Dread filled my sneakers like lead.
“Help me write this down, will you?” He pointed to his pink gel pen and matching notebook.
“Wait. I'm in trouble? How is this my fault? Zack killed them!”
“If you'd used the damn portal, we wouldn't have three more ghosts in here. When is it gonna sink in, kid? Everywhere Zack goes, people die. And you took him out. Again. Even after the stuff at Bubba's.” Kevin eyeballed the growing crowd of ghosts. We now had so many the store glowed blue. “You're in charge of him from now on. And you better make damn sure that reaper doesn't leave this store ever again. Capeesh?”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Don't ask me. You're the expert on getting fired and dumped. I read your file. Your mom practically had to set the sofa on fire to get you off of it. You got ideas.”
“Ha ha. Funny.” I looked at him. He looked at me. Oh. He was dead serious. Wow. Burn. I slumped. “But I thought I was doing—” the right things.
“Think again. The easy thing is not always the right thing.” That's when Kevin screamed. And not at me. For once. “What are you doing? Noooooooooo!”
Zack had come back behind the counter, and a record slipped right out through his boney fingers, and bloop, right onto the floor. “Oops. Sorry. I was looking for something by that cat guy. Do you like the cat guy? I don't think I like Dio. Pizza guy is right. This music sucks.”
“Don't like Dio? Eeeeeer. Reap. Urrrrt. Ronnie...broke...recor
d...SUCK....Aarggggggh.” Kevin grunted and hurmphed. He puffed up, turned purple. Then white.
Crink. Crunk. Creeeeeee.
He popped and stretched, like strawberry saltwater taffy, out. Bigger, more. He looked like a mean giant beaver. Thick. White. No longer see-through. Growling. Mad. Rising from the counter with six claw-tipped legs balled into fists. His mouth split into a tangle of fangs. Kevin raised his claw legs and “DEEEEEEE OOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Zack screamed, “Not in the face!” as Kevin punched him. Zack raised the album in front of him, wielding it like a shield. It didn't work. Kevin's monstrous leg punched right through the cover, so hard Zack flew back and hit the counter.
Pfffffffffffft.
That wasn't Kevin, or a fart, even though it sounded like one. That was the sound of foam raining down all over Kevin. As each puff of white foam hit him, he shrank a little. Fast, immediately, quickly down to normal size.
“Kevin? NO!” I screamed. Because Kevin wasn't shrinking. He was melting. The bottom half of his body dripped into a blue black sticky puddle on the counter. I batted the white fluffy bits away, trying to shield him with my body. Kevin snarled and flailed and scratched.
DeeDee screamed behind me. “Bad, Hunter. Bad! Bad dog. Uh. Boy.”
Chink.
The foam spray stopped. Something hit my ankle. A red canister.
Oh, no. Demon slay foam. I spun around. “What did you do that for? How could you?”
Hunter shrugged. “He, um, turned into a monster. And I thought he was going to hurt you guys, and you just stood there. You looked like you didn't know what to do, so I took care of it. I mean, it says right on the can 'use this spray to subdue hostile, unidentified entities.' See?”
He pointed to the label on the can.
“At least somebody around here knows how to read. Maybe dogman here can give you a few pointers.” That was Kevin. Normal-sized blue Kevin. He stopped when he saw the ripped album cover in Zack's hands. “What did you break? Oh. It's just Yngwie Malmsteen. Never mind. We're good.”
In his very regular Kevin voice. No fangs. The giant angry beaver Kevin had disappeared. “Geesh, we get one dead stripper in here, and it's beaver beaver beaver.”
