Crazy Little Thing (17 page)

Please Wait To Be Eated

Claire marched up to the hostess desk at the Zombie
Lab Restaurant. There was a sign that said
Please Wait to be Eated.
She
would’ve laughed at that if she weren’t so intent on tracking Elvis. She needed
to talk to him in the worst possible way. Since she last saw him things had
gone haywire. Haywire, hell, she thought, they’d gone completely berserko. She
needed Elvis to guide her, put her on the right path, tell her what to do. She
felt like there was a war going on inside her body. An epic battle between her
head and her heart.

Claire stood on tippy-toe and craned her neck,
looking for Elvis. The restaurant fairly gleamed from its chrome industrial
look and was packed to the gills with patrons. She spotted Elvis standing over
by the bar. She plowed through the people like a hound dog on the scent of a
oppossum.

Hound dog. Claire giggled. Hound dog, Elvis. She
giggled more.

Claire walked up behind Elvis and began talking. The
words tumbled out in one long breath, “Elvis, I’m so glad I found you. I was
wondering if you had forgotten about me? Look, I really need your help.
Remember how you told me last time we talked to always let the one I love know
that I love them? Well, that’s all well and good, but what if I don’t know who
I love? I mean which person I love? Or what if I love them both but
differently? Or what if they don’t love me back? Am I supposed to throw away a mediocre
love that is a sure thing for the potential of a greater love? What if that
greater love never happens or never loves me back? What if they’re my greater
love but I’m only their mediocre love? Help me, please. Elvis, I’m so
confused.” Claire sucked in a deep breath.

Elvis turned to face her. He was holding a tray of
drinks in his hands. He had dark circles painted around his eyes and red
make-up smeared around his mouth to make him look like a zombie who had
recently eaten something bloody. “Hey, lady,” he said, “Chillax. I’m a waiter,
not Dear Abby.” He walked away with the tray of drinks held high over his head.

*

Ollie and G-Ray were stoked. Even EZ looked like she
was awake and having fun. They had staked out a table in the corner of the room
and were gawking at the wait staff who were zombified versions of their more
famous selves. Their waitress was Marilyn Monroe. She was a lot heavier than
the actual Marilyn had been but that was probably normal. After all, you could
only be dead for so long before the bloat set in.

Claire joined them at the table just as Marilyn
Monroe walked away. She pulled out the empty chair and sat next to Ollie.

“I ordered you a diet cherry coke,” Ollie said,
“It’s your favorite, right?”

“You remembered,” Claire said. She placed the napkin
in her lap and accepted a menu from EZ.

Ollie beamed at her. Claire pretended to study the
menu. Her mind was a whirling mess. That was the second time Ollie had
remembered what she drank. Ollie’s attention made her feel all warm and gooey
inside. Either that or her IBS was acting up.

G-Ray interrupted her train of thought by declaring,
“My tocks are happy here, man. I think they have led me to Des Moines for a
reason.”

“What’s so special about here?” EZ asked.

“For one thing, the girls don’t wear pants,” he
said.

“What?” Claire said, swiveling around to see what
G-Ray was seeing. “They have pants on. Those are tights. It’s all the rage to
wear tights with a short jacket and boots now.”

“Since when?” EZ asked.

Claire shrugged. “Since like 2007.”

EZ eyes widened then rolled back in her head.

“Whoopsy,” Claire said.

EZ fell face forward. G-Ray managed to move her
drink out of the way in the nick of time. They stared at EZ slumped over the
table making
ZZZZzzzzz
noises.

G-Ray picked up the conversation right where it left
off, “Dood, it looks like they’re just not wearing pants to me.”

“Fashion plate that you are,” Ollie said.

G-Ray said, “Look who’s talking. You’ve worn those
shorts three days in a row.”

“Speaking of which, can we go shopping? This is a
college town, there’s bound to be some great thrift stores,” Claire said. She
waited for Ollie to put up a stink. She used to delicately hint to Ollie that
maybe her wardrobe could use some sprucing up and was always met with a hurt
expression or outright hostility.

Ollie smiled at Claire. “She’s right, G-Ray, let’s
go shopping. We’ll let Claire pick out something respectable for us.”

Claire was flabbergasted. This was totally unlike
the Ollie she used to know.

“As long as she doesn’t dress me in skinny jeans. I
got way too much junk for those skinny jeans,” said G-Ray.

“G-Ray, really?” Claire said, dismissively. “Can we
have one meal where we don’t have to talk about your tocks or your man stuff.”

“Actually, he does have an overabundance of man
stuff,” Ollie said. “That’s why he wears baggy shorts all the time.”

“How do you know?” Claire said. She hoped in some
moment of loneliness and depression that Ollie hadn’t slipped over to the other
side once or twice.

“We’ve been friends for years. I’ve seen little
G-Ray a time or two and, believe you me, little G-Ray ain’t so little,” Ollie
said.

Marilyn Monroe arrived with their drinks. She leaned
over and gazed at G-Ray’s crotch. “She speaks the truth.”

“Thanks,” G-Ray said.

“Ready to order?” Marilyn Monroe asked.

Claire had never really looked at G-Ray’s package.
Maybe that’s why aliens picked him up. Because he was a super-sized specimen.
Oh, God, what was happening to her? Was she really thinking about aliens and
tocks as if they were real? She was becoming one of them. How would she ever
explain all this to Scarlet? ‘Hi, honey, guess what we did today? We went to
see a Nazi dominatrix, then to a café filled with zombies. We discussed G-Ray’s
male equipment then I took them shopping at a thrift store. Oh, and by the way,
I saw Elvis and had a nice long chat with him.’ Geez Louise, Scarlet would have
a case of the shivering fits if she heard what was going on in her head.

“I’ll have the Walking Ched with a side of fries,”
Ollie said.

“What about this one?” Marilyn Monroe asked,
pointing her pencil at EZ.

“Get her a Trailer Trash burger and fries, but put
it in a to-go box,” Ollie said.

G-Ray handed over his menu, saying, “I’ll have the
They’re Coming to Get You, Barbara burger and the Plan Nine from Outerspace
sandwich, a side of fries, and some mac-n-cheese. Oh, and another chocolate
nutella marshmallow shake. For starters. I’ll decide on dessert later.”

Marilyn raised an eyebrow. “Impressive.”

“Gotta feed the big little guy,” G-Ray said.

Marilyn smiled at him. “I get off work at five.” She
winked.

Claire flapped her menu shut and butted in, “I’ll
have the Undead Elvis burger.”

Ollie stared at her, big-eyed. “You’re not going
healthy? What will Scarlet say?”

“Scarlet doesn’t have to know everything,” Claire
declared and immediately felt better for saying it.

“Fries with that?” Marilyn asked.

“Sure,” Claire said, “Why not?” This breaking the
rules thing was starting to feel pretty good.

As Marilyn sashayed off, G-Ray said, “I’m definitely
getting one of their souvenir T-shirts.” He pointed to the display by the cash
register. There were several T-shirts with zombie-esque sayings silk-screened
on the front:
Please wait to be eated. Zombie Café - They’re dying to get
in. Zombies are people too. Zombies love you for what’s inside. Zombies like
big brains and they cannot lie.

“Me, too,” Ollie said. “I’ll even get one for EZ.
You in, Claire?”

“Why not,” Claire said. “We’ll be team Zombie.”

“That’s the spirit,” Ollie said.

Claire giggled. She was feeling a lot better
suddenly. She didn’t know if it was because of the Advil or because she was
secretly defying Scarlet. Maybe it was both.

Goodwill Hunting

After they ate and stowed the sleeping EZ in the
van, G-Ray, Ollie and Claire walked down the block to the Goodwill store. Ollie
was bound and determined to find some clothes that Claire liked, but that
didn’t make her feel like she was selling out to the Man. It was a tall order.

Ollie felt like she was in direct competition now
with Scarlet. She knew she couldn’t compete with Scarlet’s job or money or name
brand clothes. She also couldn’t compete with Scarlet’s youth or
teeth-whitening or Botox or plastic surgery or liposuctions. The only thing she
had that Scarlet didn’t was a sense of fun. So, by God, she was going to find a
wardrobe that absolutely reeked of fun with a capital F.

While Ollie thumbed through the hanging clothes,
G-Ray came out of the changing room and stood before her and Claire. He was
poured into a pair of red vinyl pants.

Ollie whistled. “Wow. I love the Loverboy look.”

Claire said, “I think he looks more like The Knack.
Or maybe Stray Cats.”

“I’m single-handedly going to bring vinyl back,”
G-Ray said.

“You’re not seriously going to wear those out in
public, are you?” Claire said.

“Just to fancy places,” G-Ray said. “These will be
my dress pants. I’m still looking for something a little more every day.” He
turned around and shook his butt in their direction. “How do the tocks look?”

“I’m not the best person to be asking,” Claire said.
“I usually only notice women’s butts.”

“So use your imagination,” G-Ray said. “Pretend I’m
a female of the species.”

“Okay,” Claire said. She squinted at G-Ray’s
backside. “Your butt looks like Olivia Newton John in Grease when she becomes
the bad chick.”

“Yes!” G-Ray said, pumping his fist. He strode away,
obviously happy with the comparison.

When Claire turned back around, Ollie was holding up
a pair of tuxedo pants. She smiled widely at Claire. “How about these?”

Claire pursed her lips and studied the pants.

Ollie’s heart sank. She knew Claire was going to
chastise her sense of fashion. Okay, her sense of no-fashion. Or should that be
her non-sense of fashion?

“I like them,” Claire finally said.

“You do?”

Claire ran to a clothing rack and began to pull shirts
off and hand them to Ollie. “They’ll look great with these T-shirts.” She
tossed a Scooby-Doo, Batman and Wonder woman T-shirt at Ollie.

“For real?” Ollie said. “You’re not making fun of
me?”

“For real,” Claire said.

Ollie grabbed a purple wool beret off the shelf.
“This looks like you. Try it on.” She tossed it to Claire.

Claire put the beret on her head, struck a pose and
sucked in her cheeks like a European model. “
Voulez vous coucher avec moi
?”

“
Oui oui
!” Ollie said.

They laughed. Claire took off the beret and they
stood looking at each other for a long moment. Ollie knew it was one of those
deciding moments. Claire could fall back in love with her and Ollie knew it.
Well, maybe she didn’t know it as much as she hoped it. She felt her face heat
up and knew she was blushing. And not from embarrassment, either. She was
blushing from the heat of the moment.

Claire turned and walked up to the cash register.
She put the beret on the counter and said, “Do you all take American Express?”

Ollie sighed. The deciding moment had come and gone
and she didn’t have a clue what was decided. But at least Claire was buying the
beret. That had to mean something, right?

Ollie Speaks

The
camera focused on Ollie.

“I
did my homework. I wrote down all the things I like about Claire.” She showed a
piece of unlined paper filled with her chicken scrawl to the camera. “In no
particular order: Tits. Eyes. Hair. I like the way she smells like tropical
suntan lotion except it’s not suntan lotion. It’s like her body manufactures
the smell on its own. I like her body. I like her sense of humor. The one she
had before Scarlet. Scarlet stole her sense of humor and replaced it with, I
don’t know, a sense of designer shoes or something. I like the way when she got
scared watching a movie she would hide behind her hands and peek through her
fingers. I liked the way she ate her hamburgers in a circular fashion. You
know, rotating it around in a circle, nibbling until it got smaller and
smaller. I thought that was cute. I liked how she wanted to make love every
time it rained. She said that was Mother Nature’s way of telling us to go back
to bed. I used to love thunderstorms. I loved the way she kissed me every night
before falling asleep.”

Ollie
held up another piece of paper. “This is a list of everything I dislike about
Claire. The sea cow doctor didn’t say to do it, but I thought I should, you
know, for balance.”

She
looked down at the paper and read, “I hate the way she always has to have the
last word in an argument. I hate that she thinks money and social status is
more important than love. I hate that she got a nose job when her nose was fine
to begin with. I hate that she fell in love with Scarlet. I hate that…” Ollie’s
voice cracked. She took a deep, shaky breath and willed herself not to cry. “I
hate that she doesn’t love me anymore.”