by D. M. Guay
“Hey. Lloyd? Which one of these attaches the magic cartoon machine to the TV?” Zack floated up, with a fistful of HDMI cables in his hand. “Yurialaempholalmodephianous? What are you doing here?”
“My man! Look at this place. All these souls. That's quite the kill count. You sure are going out with a bang, huh? Stickin' it to the man. Mad respect.”
Yuri stuck out his first, waiting for a bump.
Zack left him hanging.
“What's wrong, brother?” Yuri said. “Just trying to give you props. I mean, way to send a message upstairs, right?”
“I didn't do this. I don't reap without scrolls. Ever. I'm innocent!”
“Uh, huh. Sure. Sure. Tell it to the judge. But I gotta say. No one will believe you. This looks bad. Real bad,” Yuri said. “You know what they say: One angel falls, another one rises. Speaking of, I applied for your old job. I'm doing my tryout right now. Fingers crossed.”
He held up two bone hands and crossed his bone fingers.
“My job?” Zack's jaw dropped. “YOU?”
“Hey. Yura-Dipshit.” Kevin dug his fists in his carapace. “You gonna get these souls outta here or what?”
“Me? Oh no no no. No way. No scroll, no soul. I'm not touching this dumpster fire.” He put his hands up and backed away. “But I sure will tell the guys back at Head Office what I've seen. You can count on that.”
“Yeah. You better. These ghosts have got to go.”
“Oof, speaking of got to go,” Yuri rubbed his belly. “Mind if I use your toilet? It's been a long drive, and this dump truck has a load to drop, you feel me?”
“Uh.” I pointed. “Through there?”
He floated away. But the dude must have an anus like an iron vice, because he sure took his time getting to the bathroom. He stopped to examine every single ghost on the way. He even picked up the bus lady's faux Necco Wafers and popped one in his mouth. Right in front of her. She was not happy. She looked steaming mad, especially when he spit that pink wafer out onto the floor. “Gross! That tastes like chalk. You aren't missing anything, sweetheart.” He leaned right into her face. “Or are you?”
“Hurrrr. Hurrrrrr. Hurrrrrrrrrrrr. This is the worst day of my entire life!” Zack descended into tears. His fists balled up. “He can't take my job! He just can't! He's not good enough! Hurrrrrrrrrrrr.”
Hurrrrf. Hurrrrrf. Hurrrrrrrf.
For once, that was not Zack crying. My employee manual crawled right up to Zack and started hacking up a furball on his foot. Well, he didn't have fur, but it sounded like a furball. And I should know. I live with Gertrude, so I'm an expert.
Hurrrrf. Hurrrrrf. Hurrrrrrrf.
It spit out a small piece of paper, like from a fortune cookie. Zack picked it up.
“What does it say, bonehead?” Kevin snipped.
“Where envy and selfish ambition exist, there is disorder and every kind of evil,” Zack scratched his head. “What does that mean?”
Kevin didn't miss a beat. “It means you need to stop being jealous of Yura-Doofus or shit's really gonna go south.”
“ME? Jealous of him? That guy brought Hitler to Heaven's Gate! He's a laughingstock.”
“Hey. That wasn't my fault. The scroll was smudged! It was raining,” Yuri said, right as he kicked open the stockroom door. He rubbed his belly. “Oof. I hope you all have good pipes, because I'm about to murder a brown snake. A really big one.”
Yuri disappeared, and Zack said, “No. No way. I'm not jealous. Yuri's the one who's jealous.”
Grrr. Grrr. Grrrr. That was my book. Biting my sock and pulling. I wiggled my foot, but it didn't let up.
“Yeah, yeah. You tell yourself whatever you need to to get through the day. But think about it. If that guy gets your job, whose gonna be jealous of who? Wait. Whom?” Kevin scratched his chin. “Fuck it. I'm a dead roach. I don't need good grammar.”
Zack crossed his arms, harmphed, and turned his back on us.
Kevin put a leg up and whispered to me, “He's totally jealous.”
Then he said to Zack, “Well. The signs are pretty clear. If other reapers are interviewing for your job, it's time to move on. Come see me when you're done crying. I know a guy over at Taco Bell. I'll give you his number. Because you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here.”
Kevin unwound his body, all the way back to the counter.
Zack melted into a puddle of bones and tears. “Hurrrrrrrrrrrrrr!”
The bus lady's ghost paced, frantically. “I can't find my candy!”
I shook the toothy employee manual off my sock and quick stepped over there to help her look for it, because dude. I did not want the bus lady to go full ghost beaver Kevin. But those Necco Wafers? Gone. Totally missing. Then it dawned on me: That stupid reaper must have pocketed them.
Great. Just great.
DeeDee stepped out of the stockroom. “Good news, Zack. Games are ready to go. Wanna play? Zack?” Then she stopped cold and waved her hands in front of her nose. “Oh my God. What is that smell? Did one of the sewer pipes back up?”
“That was me, sweet tits. I left you quite a present in the bathroom.” Yuri floated out the door behind her, then over to the hot food station, where he watched Candy twirl around the pole. She stopped when she saw him. Which was weird, because she didn't stop for anyone unless they had a dollar. She stared at him, squinting. I couldn't tell if she was mad or just thinking. Hard to tell. Yuri stared back, but he wasn't looking at her eyes. He was staring at her ass—ets. Ahem.
Her blue body flickered, but Yuri didn't notice. He said, “Ooh! A dollar. Finders keepers!”
He snatched the dollar bill off the counter, then said, “see you later, losers!”
He snapped his fingers and disappeared. Into thin air. Without a trace. At least I thought he did until I saw the front door open all by itself.
Wow. What a jerk.
“He stole my TIPS!” Candy screamed. Her ghost blonde hair turned solid white and swished around her head like she was standing in the middle of a hurricane. She stomped and knocked the hot dog rolling machine right off the hot food station. With her high heels. Because her rage had turned her solid. The loss of that dollar was too much for Candy to bear.
DeeDee ninja rolled to the register and hit “No sale.” The second the drawer popped open, she grabbed a fistful of dollars and made it rain on Candy.
“What are you doing? Stop it!” Kevin's legs slapped at the air, trying to grab those dollars. “We do actually need this money to keep the doors open, you know. We're a place of business.”
“Kevin. I have to. Look!”
Candy. As the dollars rained down, she turned from angry and solid back to blue and calm. And once the last dollar bill fluttered past her, uh, assets, she jumped back on the pole and did a twirl, smacking her gum, looking bored. Back to normal.
Yuri popped his head back in and said, “Oh, and Zack. I'll be sure to tell your girlfriend how well you're doing next time I'm in the office. Oops. Ex girlfriend. Catch you later.”
Zack exploded into tears. “Hurrrrrr. Hurrrrrr hurrrrrrrrrr!”
That reaper was a real asshole. Zack was a saint compared to that guy. I didn't know what it was about him, but he rubbed me the wrong way. The ghosts didn't seem to care for him either.
Chapter 16
“Give me twenty, Champ.”
I put my arms out and squatted. Oof. It burned. Still. Dude. Seriously. Like OMG, when do squats stop hurting? Maybe when you stop doing three hundred of them every night. And when your personal trainer isn't a ghost. Who's haunting you. With exercise.
And down. Up.
And...down. Up.
Down. Up.
Hunter glowed brighter, bluer, happier with every squat. “Good work, Champ. That bod will be ready for summer in no time!”
Uh, huh. Yeah. Probably not. But still, I tried. Because it was all part of the plan. Keep the ghosts happy. Keep them on the routine. And maybe get fit enough to climb a shelf next time a zombie chas
es me. And it was all working out. The last few days had been okay. No scared customers. No new ghosts. No angry beaver Kevin incidents.
“Hey. Dumbass. Wrap up the Buns of Steel, already. It's time to do the rounds. Start with the Necco Wafers. Grandma's getting restless. Oh, and Candy needs two more dollars if you want her to keep dancing.”
Up. Down. Ow. “Fine.”
As I said, with ghosts, it's all about the routine. I waddled up to Kevin, thighs on fire. Doc had left a replacement pack of faux Necco Wafers on the counter.
“Doc nailed it with the sidewalk chalk. Even if she had tastebuds, she'd never be able to tell the difference. My grandma used to give me those. She acted like they were a treat. Blech.” Kevin shivered at the thought.
I looked at him. Grandma?
Then he ripped into a fresh box of Peanut Butter Patties. Instead of pretending to load the cheap cigarette racks. And I mean, he actually ripped into the cookie box. “Uh, Kevin?”
“Zip it, kid. I know I'm fat. Don't judge me. I'm dead. I need to find joy wherever I can.” He raised a cookie—actually raised it—to Gunther, who was loitering by the still-covered doughnut case like he sensed the sugar was nearby, but he just couldn't pinpoint it. “Cheat day, am I right?”
Then Kevin really stuffed that cookie, whole, into his mouth. And it actually stuffed. It didn't fall through his body and land on the floor. He actually swallowed it. Because Kevin was solid, and he was off his routine. That can't be good.
I slowly backed down the chip aisle, over to DeeDee, who was wrestling with Hunter's leash, readying for his hourly trip to the tree at the end of the parking lot. And I mean wrestling. Hunter pulled and growled, DeeDee dug in her heels and wrapped the leash around her elbow, to keep him from jumping up onto the chip rack. “Boy. He's really fighting me tonight. I don't know what's gotten into him.”
Hunter was panting, his blue hands pawing at the linoleum, like he was trying to dig a hole. “Down, boy. Down!”
Hunter did not stop, but he did manage to knock a couple of bags of Smart Pop off the rack.
“Uh. Does Kevin seem different to you? He isn't doing the same thing on a loop. He's off his routine.”
I watched Hunter paw at the floor. Huh. Hunter wasn't following his routine, either. “Maybe Kevin's spoiling. Maybe they're all starting to spoil. Doc's right!”
“Are you kidding? Kevin's on point. He's doing exactly what he did when he was alive. Being salty and giving everyone a hard time. That's his thing. If he stops doing that, then I'll be concerned. Look.”
Kevin stopped chewing long enough to yell “Stupid Hipster!” at the ghost who now perpetually hovered by his record collection.
Yeah. I see DeeDee's point.
“We have to cut him some slack. This has to be pretty scary for him. He'd never admit it to us. Besides. I'd rather have him here, like this, than have no Kevin at all.” She looked over at him. She bit her bottom lip like she was upset. Then Hunter yanked his leash and nearly pulled her headfirst into the rack. “Man, I swear he's getting stronger. Can you pay the pizza guy? I need to look for Hunter's bone. I don't know where that stupid thing went. He gets restless without it.”
I grabbed the Monopoly money off the counter, went to the front door, and looked out. No pizza guy. I checked the clock: 12:15. Huh. He's ten minutes late.
“If Candy asks, my stage name is Zorro. Back me up, okay?” Morty stepped up next to me wearing a black wide-brimmed hat, black satin shirt open to the waist, a cape, a black eye mask, and tight tight tight satin pants. “I've got a new angle. I'm gonna tell her I'm a male stripper. It's a sure win. I don't know what it is about chicks. They don't want to drop trow unless they feel like you can relate.”
Morty's cape swished and next thing you know, he was by the hot food station trying to sweet-talk Candy as he ducked under her ectoplasmic high heel. Um, yeah. Did I mention his attempts to woo his ghostly unicorn had thus far been fruitless? You had to give the guy credit. He was persistent.
I opened the door and stuck my head out, looking around the lot. “Where the hell is that pizza guy?”
“Oh, you mean Keegan?” Zack floated up with four overflowing Colossal Super Slurp cups in his arms. He started to fill up a fifth with Hexed Huckleberry. Which was black? Ew.
“He's in my room. We just played a killer round of Squirrel Gangster Shoot Out. Gaming marathon. It's a great game. The little squirrel guy is so cute, and he has a girlllllllfrieeeeeeeeeeeeend. Hurrrrrrrrrr.”
He cried and floated away.
Wow. He was totally despondent. He sobbed as he grabbed a fistful of Zapp's Evil Eye bags off the end cap. Then he disappeared into his zombie cooler, slamming the door shut behind him. Poor guy. But on the plus side, since we plugged in the game station, no one else had died. That's a win.
“Bad, Hunter. Bad. Down!” DeeDee yanked his leash, and it tightened around his ghostly neck. He jerked and kicked the end cap clean off. Chip bags flew. Wouldn't you know it, the cleaning crew materialized out of nowhere to lick the spilled chip bits off the floor.
“Stomachs on legs. Disgusting. Nummm. Mummm. Mmmm,” Kevin said, as he stuffed two Peanut Butter Patties in his fat blueish mouth.
Ding.
Finally. The pizza guy! I whirled around, Monopoly money in hand. “Thirteen fifty, plus tip. Keep the change.”
“What the heck am I supposed to do with play money?” It wasn't the pizza guy. It was Bob the Doughnut Guy.
He stood on the mat, pink rubber gloves up to his elbows, holding a fresh pink box of nightmares. He wore a bright yellow Hawaiian shirt and was tan as a buckeye nut, apart from the white spot his sunglasses left around his eyes.
“Where you been? My doughnut case is running on fumes! Mumm. Numm. Mmm.” Yep. Kevin was still chowing down on those cookies, and from the looks of it, he did a pretty good job of actually swallowing them.
“Didn't you get the email? Dolly’s won best bakery in the sector. We all won a free trip to Jamai...caa.aaaa.aaaaaa.” Yeah. Bob the Doughnut Guy's A's trailed off. As soon as he saw Kevin. Bluish. Dead. His bottom half melted into the counter.
His eyes went round and big as silver dollars. They darted between Gunther, the dead demon stalking the doughnut case, and DeeDee wrangling ghost Hunter on a leash. And the hipster who just pulled his head out of Kevin's record collection. Again. Then Glug, happily splashing in his slushy cup by the stereo. And Candy, blue boobs bouncing as Zorro Morty begged for her love and tried to lick the spectral bottom of her spike heel shoe.
And wouldn't you know it, that's when Zack popped out to grab another bag of chips. “Hurrrrrrrr. Oh. Hi. I'm Zack. What's your name?”
Zack waved. Bob the Doughnut guy went completely white and dropped like a rock. He passed out cold on the welcome mat, pink box still in his pink-gloved hands. Thankfully, the box was sealed. Because dude. I was not touching those doughnuts.
Kevin turned to Zack and said, “Again? Really?”
“I didn't kill him!”
Kevin stared down at the unnaturally tan, unconscious, three-hundred pound, six-foot seven-inch tall donut guy on the mat. So did I.
“Is he dead?” Please don't be dead.
“Well, he ain't blue. I'll see if he's got a pulse.” Kevin jump flew off the counter—well, the top half did. He caught a lot more air as vapor than he ever did as a fat roach. He leaned in close to Bob's nose. “False alarm. He's fine. Musta been the shock of Zack's ugly mug.”
Kevin examined Bob's tan, muttering, “Everybody gets to go to Jamaica but me. Stupid Junebug.”
“Is Bob all right?” DeeDee led ghost Hunter to the mat and peered down over the knocked-out doughnut man.
“Might as well let him sleep it off.” Kevin shrugged.
Hunter yanked his leash again and DeeDee snapped. “SIT!”
He did. For once.
“Finally! Good boy. Who's a good boy.” She gently ran her hand down his ghost back like she was petting him. I swear, his back leg shook from t
he sheer joy of it. For a split second, I wished she would pet me like that. I think I hate that guy. Yep. I hate him.
“OW!” My foot! My employee manual bit into the toe of my Puma. It looked at me. I looked at it. “Are you hungry? AGAIN? You just ate!”
The cleaning crew wasn't the only stomach on legs around here. Well, my employee manual didn't have legs, but same idea. I still couldn't read it, but it did stop biting me, as long as I slipped it the right snacks. Unfortunately, it was really picky. It only liked Red Vine SuperStrings, glass vials of yia yia tears, and Slim Jim Savage Meat Sticks.
It bit into my sock, then flipped open to that same page. The one with the drawing of a hand, scrawly and ornate, with an eye in the palm. A real green eye. I flipped that book closed with my foot and stood on it to keep it shut. It wriggled, trying to open.
“Oh, dear. Beware the green-eyed monster. It will destroy you from the inside out.” It was a voice, tiny and sweet. It did not come from my book. It came from the teeny little lady in an Easter egg yellow cardigan and cotton ball of white hair who stepped in onto the mat. It was Henrietta. “As the Bible says, envy rots the bones!”
She smiled at me as she stepped right over Bob, still unconscious. Wait. Did she just do one of her, you know, psychic things she does? Shoot. I should have written that down.
“Oh, no. I did it again, didn't I?” Zack floated up to Henrietta, leaned down in to examine her kindly great grandma face. “She's definitely dead. I'm sooooorrrrrreeeeeee. Hurrrr.”
“Don't cry, dear. I'm not dead. Not yet.” She patted his scapula, and we all breathed a sigh of relief. “Although, I am too old to buy green bananas.”
She turned to me. “There you are. This just came in for you. Special delivery. Marked urgent.”
She sunk her wrinkled little hand into her giant quilted flower-print purse, and a lump formed in my throat. Please be a new employee manual. Please!
Grrrrr.
Ow.
Yeah. My book bit me. It must have zoned in on my brainwaves.
