Chapter 35.
I’m awake! My fingers are being caressed again.
“Rise and shine, sleepy head! Today’s the big day!”
I heard that before.
“Madam, can I speak to you alone in here?”
“Oh, sure thing, Doc. Honey, go wait outside in the hall.”
“But that big guy is out there.”
“He won’t bite you! Remember, just because he’s a man doesn’t mean he’s out to harm you. The doctor wants to talk to me alone.”
I hear the click-clack of high heels leave the room.
Out in the hall I hear muted small talk. Every now and then I hear a bell, like the kind you hear in airplanes, only this one sounds more like it’s in a hospital. But I have a thick skull, so I spell this out in case you do, too. No offense to thick skulled people.
“Madam, we worked as hard as we could to piece him back together from what we had to work with-“
“Did the album cover help?”
“Oh, immensely. Immensely. Tell me, is your husband musically inclined like him as well?”
“No, he’s just into birds, mostly. Or was. Is? Is ‘is’ the right term, Doc?”
“As I was saying, we have done the best we can, but…you know, did we check to see if he is awake?”
I feel my fingers get pinched, but I don’t move, I wanna hear this.
“Oh, good, still sleeping. In any case, there is a strong chance that he may not resemble your husband as you remember him. He has had reconstructive surgery in the past. The x-rays look super, though.”
“They do?”
“Oh yes. And quite frankly, I am happy we were able to remove both of the skate wheels, you know. My colleague was considering leaving the one embedded in his cheek, because it was not grossly interfering with anything vital. However, I lobbied against it, don’t you know?”
“Oh, thanks for that, Doc. But I’m wondering, will he…will he act the same?”
“We cannot be sure of his brain function. His responses to stimulus are ok, but that can merely be reflex. I cannot say for sure, but in the event he is…not the same? Perhaps your friend in the hall can put him out of his misery?”
“Well, that’s if it’s even him…he would want that.”
I start snapping my fingers as best I can through the casts. I try sending out Morse code with my toes.
“Oh! Our patient is awake. Let’s waste no more time. Can you press the button there next to…yes, that’s the one. I will have one of the nurses assist me. Do you want to be present, or wait outside with the others?”
“Oh, no way. I wanna be right here by his side, Doc…if it’s him.”
“Yes, if it’s him. Keep that in mind. Oh, thank you Janet. Leave the saw for now, I want to get these off first.”
I feel a bunch of tugging, and what sounds like a ratchet wrench. Oh, wow, my neck just cracked. Oh, that felt good. I’m jostled, and my body rubs up against the hardened bandages I’ve been wrapped up in what feels like forever. Every movement sends shivers down my spine, I itch so bad.
“OK, there we are. Janet, the saw, if you please?”
The saw is stupid loud. It rips real close to my skin, at times I feel the blade rub against my face, but it only tickles. It’s funny how that can be. It feels good. And I can hear clearly now out of both ears, outside of my tomb.
“Let’s remove the back first. That’s it.”
“Doc, is it normal, to uh…you know, bandage up someone’s head like that?”
“Oh yes, this is all state of the art medicine we practice, don’t you know? Janet…can you help me, lift…just the front, slowly…slowly…”
I feel a wad of gauze come out of my mouth. It’s bright. Too bright. I can’t make out anything. Wait. The doctor is peering at me close with a flashlight in my eyes.
Ug! The doc is no looker; his teeth are so crowded in his mouth. A bicuspid looks like it’s about to pop right out and…hit…me in the…
“Hey, Riley!”
“Bumpky! It’s you!”
I faint.
I awaken to a purple dancing figure. Barney the Dinosaur is playing up on the TV, and I got a plate of cold hospital food in front of me. Barney’s singing the clean-up song with a bunch of hooligans. A surly orderly comes in the room.
“How come you not be eatin’ your eggs?”
“Because first of all, I don’t eat eggs or poultry. I’m a bird guy. Birds is friends.”
“Well, these are not even real eggs to begin with, Mon. So why are you not eating them?” the orderly speaks with a thick Jamaican accent, ‘them’ sounds like ‘dem.’ As you can see, I’m feeling much better.
“Hey, can’t we like, forgo the fake eggs, and maybe get me more jello? The jello goes down so much easier.”
“The doctor want you to be trying the new choppers, Mon. You be getting me in trouble, don’t you know?”
“I’ll make a deal with you-“
“Hey, Mon! A man in your condition cannot be making deals, and you know this”, (he says ‘dis’).
Oh sheesh, here we go again with the silly rules.
“Can you please just take this away? I’ve lost…I’ve lost my appetite.”
He takes the lunch away, dreadlocks swinging in contempt, “Make deals.”
A nurse comes a few minutes later. Super tall, super pretty.
“So what seems to be the problem, sleepy head?”
I’m confused, “What problem? No problem. I just…jello goes down easier, is all. My head is pounding, and I can’t eat with the pain pills because they make me nauseous, so can you maybe just double up the jello dosage and help a fella out, miss?”
“I’ve told you. This is a bag, this is a purse, a girl is a miss, and I am a nurse.”
It’s a scene right out of Telemundo, she’s busting out of her dress up top.
“Can we please get Dr. Seuss in here? You know, this is just going to go up the chain of command, I can already tell, and I don’t want to…hey, what are you doing with that button?”
“Oh, nothing. I’m just calling for help.”
“Help? Help? How can I…lady, I’m in a body cast, I can’t even feed myself, please don’t call in the head nurse.”
The head nurse walks in. Or waddles. Whatever it is that hippos do. She even has a hippo hips. Her nose is more pugged than mine, and she got a wide hungry hungry hippo mouth.
“What seems to be the problem with our fussy patient today?”
She picks at one of her hippo teeth with an up turned hand, and she reminds me of an evil doctor.
“There’s no problem, miss…nurse. Nurse. No problem. No problemo. I just would like more jello instead of that egg substitute you keep trying to cram down my gullet.”
She tells the pretty nurse to leave. She smiles and taps my foot, then exists. This can’t be good. I’m left with the hippo.
“Now you listen here, and you listen good. I don’t care to hear about my patients not liking my cook’s hard made meals. You will eat what is put in front of you, or so help me I will cram it up, down, around, slam dunk it in your gullet and hang on the rim, is that understood?”
I nod. Thankfully, Riley comes in. And Riley Jr.
“Hiya girls,” I say.
Riley Jr. is a spitting image of her mom. Both of them dwarf the hippo…in stature. The hippo’s got them in width. The hippo smiles wide and polite. She pats my foot, and then she hangs onto my toes and rocks back and forth, smiling at me.
“So I will bring up some more lunch? Our patient is so hungry today. OK, then? Tootles…ladies,” and the hippo waddles out the door.
Riley sits down on the bed. She pulls out a coat hanger from her purse, begins unwinding it and straightening it out.
“How are we feeling today?” she asks.
“How much longer do I have to hole up in here?”
“Until our Mr. Grumpy is all healed up, isn’t that right, Riley Jr.?”
Riley Jr. does her part of playing
the sullen teenager; she plops down at the foot of my bed, shrugs, and goes to watching Barney. Barney is the only thing that comes in clear. I make do, OK?
Riley, my wife, starts poking and prodding with the hanger.
“I’m going to smell like a beast when they cut me outta here, huh?”
“Who says you don’t stink now?”
I sigh. “So you know what I was thinking this morning? How I didn’t wake up, like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, you know?”
“How do you mean?” Riley asks, she gets up and goes to the other side of my bed, starts poking in my body cast with that hanger like a chimp with a stick in a termite mound. I saw it once on Mutual of Omaha. Riley even sticks the tip of her tongue out like they do too as she’s poking and scratching me.
“You know. I thought I would wake up. I would say how this was all a dream. And George would be standing there, and you and Riley Jr., and Ma and Sissy.”
“George is right outside. Do you want to bring him in?” Riley asks. “We can pretend. It’ll be fun.”
“No, no…forget it,” I say. “OK, bring in the big lug.”
Riley Jr. is all too eager to play along, she sloshes and groans all the way out the door, and George follows her into the room. She plops down on the bed again, transfixed by Barney. George sits down on the empty bed next to me. He’s like a stone statue. What else is new?
“OK,” Riley says. “Now what?”
I look around. “I dunno. I guess I pretend to wake up? I was just thinking about it, you know. We don’t need to do this.”
“No, no, no. It’ll be fun,” Riley is enthusiastic. She’s the only one at first, but her enthusiasm is contagious.
“OK,” I say. “As I was saying, you know how Dorothy wakes up at the end there? And she’s surrounded by everyone, and all the people in her zany dream were ordinary people in her everyday life on the farm?”
“Yeah, sure…”
“Well…”
“Go on, Senor, we are all here…”
“Well, that’s the thing, George. Jumpy ain’t here, right? She’s dead, bloated little poodle corpse floated down the waterfall and became piranha bait, right?”
George crosses himself, “Si, sounds plausible.”
“And you were there, George, and you…what? You killed Dodge?”
“Oh, Si. Was quite a show down.”
I look at Riley, “See? See, Riley? None of this makes any sense now. I was at Carnival, looking for you and Riley Jr. Well…Riley Jr. first, because…you know, I’ve known you most my life, and never met her.”
Riley Jr. snaps some gum she’s chewing. It’s an acknowledgement, that’s the best you can hope for from a teenager.
“Go on, hun,” Riley says.
“Well, where do I go on? A girl tricked me, I thought she was Riley Jr. playing coy, turns out she was a friend of that guy with Scarface. Did you know George killed a bunch of slave traders before we came into town?”
“And Dodge, too, Senor,” George crosses himself again.
“And Dodge, too? Can you maybe, tell me how that went down, George?”
“Was easy,” George recalls, “No, was…difficult. I follow the float down the street. They get to the end of the parade, and that’s when the elephants got loose, Si. Senorita?”
“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Riley says.
“Wait, the elephants?”
“Si, you remember, the senoritas with the elephant handing out the water. It started to lightning and thunder out, very dramatic.”
“Oh yeah, hun. You really missed out on a killer rain storm. Sorry, George. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“His no trouble,” George smiles.
I look at both of them, “How about I go back to sleep, and I wake up and we try this all over?”
“OK, OK,” Riley says. “Gosh…hello Mr. Grumpy. Nice of you to-well look who’s here, hiya Doc!”
The toothy doctor comes in. Nurse Hippo is following him. She has a tray with a mound of yellow gunk piled a mile high. The only thing bigger than the mound (not counting her lumbering girth) is her wide smile.
“Why hello, how is our patient today? I understand you are extra hungry for more food? That is good, very good. The road to recovery is paved with our cook’s special eggs.”
I feel the dry heaves coming on.
Riley gets up, the doc sits on my bed, takes my pulse. Nurse Hippo rests the eggs on my chest. I can’t feel the weight of it on my chest, but it’s heavy on my spirit. The Hippo and Riley Jr. share whispers. I see an exchange of money between her and Nurse Hippo, and Nurse Hippo leaves, she hangs on my toes again before she goes. Riley Jr. gets up, starts shoveling eggs down my throat. I swallow hard, and watch the Hippo waddle away.
“Hey Doc, George here was going to reenact the story of the night my husband came in.”
“Oh excellent! I have just now finished my rounds, and the golf course is closed due to the rain. I have nowhere to go, and would love to hear again the amazing story of that night. It is really a shame our patient here had to miss out on it.”
“Tell me about it,” I say, gagging between eggs. Riley Jr. is counting off gold pieces. I count five. She smiles as she chokes me with eggs. You can’t trust teenagers.
George clears his throat…
“I leave the Senor lying on the bed there to find his wife and child in the village-“
“City,” I say. I get gagged with eggs.
“City, village, his many people. I push my horse through the many people. Follow the cabaret float with the Rockettes and the legless man. Only, he have false legs, and walks like the undead on stage. And, he dress like a girl. His not funny to me.”
“Canadian humor,” I interject, then get interjected with eggs. I’ll let George tell the story.
“Si, Canadian humor. I watch the performance from the front, where it is family friendly, and not dirty. The kicking is quite uniform. All the same,” George starts kicking his fingers from side to side.
“It’s really not that hard to do,” Riley Jr. says. Riley Sr. nods.
“I always found their synchronized dancing quite entertaining,” the brown little doctor says, he smiles back at me with abstract teeth.
George continues, “Dodge, he his the slave trader I hunt across the lands, with the help of my little amigo on the bed. Dodge his wearing the big fruit dish on his head, and every time the girls kick, he stumbles around. And the peoples laugh at mistakes. But he never, he not a graceful dancer. His very demeaning. I want to put him out of his misery then and there, but the children laugh, they don’t know he his wearing the false legs.”
“I get off my horse, and I walk along behind the crowd. Some teenagers, the same girls we freed earlier in the day, do you remember Senor?”
I nod.
“Si. They start asking me for beads, since I wear so many. I ignore them. Push past them. They don’t recognize that I help them, but I recognize them. One girl, she attacks me from behind. Yanks off my hat, yanks off my beads. I yank her off my back and throw her. ‘Senorita, what his your problem?’ I say. She gets up, and her friends attacks me. But even a group of young Amazons his no match for Senor George.”
Riley and Riley Jr. look a little uncomfortable, so I speak up, “He’s talking about a bunch of Rockettes that were on that Rumspringa, they got caught by Dodge’s pals. George here didn’t mean Vegas Amazons, did ya George?”
Now George looks uncomfortable. The tension in the room is pretty thick.
Thankfully, the doc is a real prince. “You were saying, Senor George, how did you thwart the attack of the group of women?”
“Si, I get on my horse, and push through the crowd, I make a diversion. I throw the rest of the beads at the crowd, and that gives me time to ride away as the people fight for the beads on the ground and with each other. I go behind the cabaret float, where the girls are changing. But I don’t see Dodge. He is gone. Oh, my heart, she sank Senor. I go to look for him, but there his a big
crowd around the float. This is the end of the line, and the jaguar float, and the giant spider, and the zombie torso, and a bunch of other floats, they are all at the end of the road. And the girls are celebrating. The Carnival, it his nothing to see in comparison to this after party, Senor. I wish I could describe, but then I see Dodge walking away. He still have the fruit basket on his head, and he walk very stiff legged. So I follow him, and your wife, maybe she can fill you in on the fighting that happened near the floats.”
Riley looks all excited, “Yeah, but first you should tell him about the elephant chase.”
“Elephant chase?” I ask.
“Oh yes, it will all make sense once the elephant comes into play,” the doc says all chipper.
“Si, very well,” George says. “I walk my horse slow behind Dodge. He looks back at me, he walks faster. I don’t walk faster, I just keep the peepers on him.”
Riley Jr. asks, “What are peepers?”
“Oh, I believe he means peppers,” the doc says.
“No, he means eyes,” I say. This is taking forever, and I’m a little nervous about falling asleep, on account of all these eggs I just ate. I’ll try to stay focused if you will too.
“Si, peepers,” George says, “Dodge walks, I follow a safe distance. Then, he runs. Fast. Faster than you can imagine. His false legs, they stretch out like big stilts.”
“It’s part of the act,” Riley says. “The Rockettes have these special stilt false legs made, and whoever is their legless person of the year gets to grow up high.”
“Huh?” I ask.
“It’s their way of competing with the Cirq du Soleil act. They are pouring tons of money into silly things like this now, but the kids seem to love it,” Riley looks at our daughter.
“Do you like their act, Jr.?” I ask Riley Jr. (She goes by Jr. when she’s in here with her friends.) She just stares at me. This is very awkward, being in a body cast makes it difficult to bond. I have a lot of catching up to do with her. Maybe we will throw a football when I get better? A spear. No. A boomerang? I better not ask, and George is giving me a look, so I’ll shut up.
“Si, his legs grow, and he runs. Straight for the elephant pen.”
“Elephant pen?” I ask. “How many elephants do you girls have?”
“Only ten or so,” Riley says. “What? We look silly on horses. Go on, George.”
“He let the elephants go from the pen. Then he let the bull elephant go. He was in a separate pen. And Dodge grab on a tree, and his legs, like springs, go up underneath him, and he his dangling from the tree branch. And the bull run under him, and he drop down.”
Everyone looks amazed at this. Whoop-de-doo.
“So he start kicking the elephant up the path away from the village. I start chasing him. The bull chasing all the other elephants. The other elephants, the females, get backed into a corner in the jungle. The walls, Senor.”
I nod. The Vegas Amazons and their sentimentality. I bet I know what happens.
“The bull elephant, he is feeling frisky. And Dodge, he has no control of his ride anymore, he is holding on for dear life. The bull runs from one side, and the elephants try to slip past. Then he shepherds them in, to the other side. And they start climbing on top of each other to get away. And then this big female elephant-“
“We call her Bertha,” Riley says, all smiles at me.
“Bertha, she no like what is about to happen. I don’t either. I start to take aim at Dodge. Then, the elephants in the back start getting pushed by the elephants behind the big female elephant-“
“Bertha.”
“Behind Bertha, they are getting crushed, pressed into the wall. Then they break the wall in-“
“And zombies come rushing out?” I ask.
Everyone looks at me.
“No, silly,” Riley says. Riley Jr. just gives me a look, but I’m used to it by now.
“Well, why not?” I ask.
“Simple mathematics, sir,” the doc says. “The number of zombies per square kilometer does not in any way facilitate that they would all come rushing out at once, did they Senor George?”
“No, I don’t know the math, but the wall, it caves in, and the elephants all go rushing into the jungle beyond the wall, including Dodge and his bull elephant. So I follow them into the unknown. It is night, and as we get away from the village, the light diminishes, and then it starts to rain. It rains very hard, and I don’t have my hat, so it’s hard to wipe my eyes, hold my gun, and hold the reigns of my horse. I also don’t know the multitasking very well.”
“Hey,” I say, “watch it pal. Make up your own delivery.”
“What can I say, Senor? Working with you for so many months, it begins to rub off.”
“That’s why I fell in love with him,” Riley pats my arm. It only hurts a little.
“I follow,” George continues, “Every now and then, with the lightning, I see him on the elephant. Then I see how easy the path the elephant makes through the jungle with each flash of lightning. Each time, I get closer. Closer. I see his shape on the elephant. I see the fruit basket. Then, I begin to make out the grapes, and his dress. It his a dress with skinny straps-“
“Spaghetti straps,” Riley says.
“Si, I see close details, and the smell from the elephant. His strong. And we are heading into a ravine. Down the ravine, the water chasing us, the horse, almost throws me. Dodge, he getting hit with the branches of the trees above. And then-“
“Zombies?” I ask.
Everyone looks at me again.
“No, Senor. A flash flood. We all get washed into the ravine, down we go. Even the big elephants. I manage to pull my horse to one side, and I watch the elephants all get washed down the ravine. Gone. My heart, it sinks very low. Dodge has escaped back out into the wilderness.”
“Really?” I ask. “So that means we’re going on more adventures?”
“Senor. Por favor. No more interrupts. I just thinking at that moment he gone. He not gone. He hanging from a tree. His upper body strength is amazing-“
“It’s because he doesn’t have a lower body!” I yell. Riley Jr. balls up an end of the sheet and sticks it in my mouth. I won’t stand for this kind of insubordination. Wait, I can’t stand. I have no body…at least, it’s entombed in a body cast.
“Amazing upper body strength, “ George continues, then pauses and gives me a look before he goes on.
“So, I stand on one side of the ravine. He dangles from the tree on the other side of the ravine. I go to shoot,” George looks at me again. I’m quiet.
“And that, Senor, his when I see mucho zombies.”
“Aha!” I say, spitting out the sheet. “I knew it.”
“Si, you knew it. The zombies, they are all hiding. On the other side of the ravine, a cave. They crawl out of the cave like the roaches.
“Why were they in a cave?” Riley Jr. asks.
George scratches his bald head, “Maybe they don’t want to get wet.”
“Why?” I ask. “They don’t want to catch cold? They’re zombies-“
“Senor! I no know the behavior of the zombies-“
“Say,” Riley interrupts, “that would be really cool if they did a special, you know, on TV. About zombies. Like they used to when we were kids, remember? With Mutualov Omaha? The zebras, the giraffes.”
“OK, I say. “OK, first of all it’s Mutual of Omaha, it’s not Russian.”
“Then what about the Indian they had?” she asks.
“Because it’s about wild kingdoms. Indians is wild,” I say.
“Oh, I beg to differ,” the doc chimes in. “We Indians are not wild. However, as a young man in university, many a lady I did swoon with stories of Bengalese tiger encounters. Naturally, they never truly occurred to me, but I related about what I saw on the television show Mutual of Omaha as if I were there.”
“That’s uh…that’s amusing, Doc.”
“Quite,” he says. “You know there was this one young lady, a daughte
r of the rajah-“
“Senors, Senoritas. Por favor, may I continue with my story? One at a time.”
“Oh, you don’t want to mess with this guy when he says that,” I say.
“Gracias. Dangling above the zombies, Dodge his. Normally, the zombies, they go for the low hanging fruit. They look at me, and the water, it his running too fast. I wait. I watch him hang. Finally, he says ‘Get me down from here.’ But I ignore him. More zombies come from the jungle. Now, there are mucho. He goes to pull himself up. I go to shoot the branch, but I miss, because I am so used to the dual pistols.”
George shoots me a dirty look, “So I miss and hit his hand. Now, he dangling with only one hand. He say, ‘Screw you, screw all of you!’ I wait. He take his shot hand, and I think, maybe he reaching for a gun, so I watch steady in the pouring rain. He pull a lever, and the leg stretch down to the ground. The zombies, they grab at the leg, and start biting. Dodge starts laughing. It his mildly amusing. The zombies get frustrated. They pull off the leg. I cock my gun, because his time is up. I say, ‘Adios, Senor.’ I go to shoot. He say, ‘See you in hell.’ He let go of the branch. The zombies, they tear him to pieces. He almost escape, because they grab his false leg, and he start to crawl away. But then they grab him. I watch him twist an scream, but then I put him out of his misery.”
George crosses himself.
“So can I go now?” Riley asks.
George bows as he sits.
The doc rubs his hands, “Oh, this is where the girls come in.”
“So yeah, me and Riley Jr. we’re closing up shop-“
“Shop?” I ask.
“Oh sure, Senor. His how I find them when I go looking for you.”
“We deal in beauty supplies; you would not believe how much money we rake in. It’s a little boutique right next to the hair salon. What? You think all we do is roam around the jungle, killing snakes with our bare hands?”
“Well, don’t you?” I ask.
“Well…yeah. But a girl has to keep up appearances.”
I look at the doc. He shrugs, “Women want to look better than the next girl, and it is not to look better for us men. I thought this was a universal truth. Senor George?”
“Oh Si. Si, Senor.”
“You really got to listen more when I’m talking, hun. So anyways, yeah, we’re closing up shop, because the parade is taking away from all the foot traffic, and we just about run out of product anyway, when Sheila walks in.”
“Who’s Sheila?”
“She’s the girl that kicked your ass, Dad,” Riley Jr. says.
“Mind your tongue, Missy. So yeah, Sheila is all bloody, from. Well, anyways, her hair is a mess-“
“And her make up,” Riley Jr. says.
“And her make up. And she, you know, her and Riley Jr. have this rivalry going on-“
“Oh?” I ask.
“Oh sure. Riley Jr. is a force to be reckoned with when she gets her dander up.”
I beam at my little girl. At least one of us is a fighter. She sees me smiling, and makes with inspecting her fingernails.
“So anyways,” Riley continues, “Sheila asks if we have any more blood remover, because, you know, normally we supply the top shelf stuff. Only we ain’t got any, because our store is nearly cleaned out. So your daughter asks her what she needs it for. And Sheila gives her attitude. So I say, ‘Hey, Missy, don’t be giving my daughter no attitude after a day such as this. If we ain’t got any, nobody’s got any’ – because, you know, I just love Miracle on 34th street-“
“I know, it’s your favorite Christmas Special,” I say.
“See? That’s why I love him. He stores all these little factoids about me in that thick skull of his. So anyway, Sheila calls me an old hag, and then Riley Jr. says, ‘Oh no you didn’t’, and then-“
“I didn’t say that,” Riley Jr. interrupts. “I cursed at her.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be using such language, Missy. So yeah, she goes to grab Sheila, and Sheila runs out the store, and your daughter goes and chases her down the main strip, which is packed with people, because all the floats are done with the parade, you know? And they’re all at the end of the main strip by the clubs with the live bands. So I lock up the shop, then I go chasing after them both-“
“And that’s when she pushed me,” Riley Jr. says.
“Sheila pushed you?” me and her mother ask at the same time.
“Yeah,” she says, “right into a Rockette. She caught me off balance, so I fell back into a Rockette who was acting all slutty for a bunch of guys. The guys were so gross, too.”
“Oh,” Riley says, “See, I thought something else started the rumble.”
“Rumble?” I ask.
“Oh sure,” Riley says. “There was all these Rockettes and Vegas girls rumbling at the end of the street. Heels were flying, feet were kicking. Hair extensions were getting ripped out. It was a real cat fight.”
“Man,” I say, “I can’t believe I missed all this.”
The doc nods furiously, he’s smiling so wide his teeth almost have room to straighten out.
“You missed one hell of a fight. So me and your daughter were fighting back to back. Knocking out Rockettes left and right. But I don’t know where this group of-“
“Zombies?!” I ask.
Everyone looks at me again.
“No,” Riley says, “this group of little Rockette tarts. They come out of nowhere-“
“The ones we saved, Senor,” George says.
“Man,” I say. “So what did you do?”
“What could we do? We were outnumbered five to one-“
“Wait,” I say. “Five to one? This is your home turf, how the hell does that happen?”
“Well, the natives, silly. We were beating down the Rockettes so bad, they started cheering for the underdog. Then they went from cheering to helping out. Men and women. It was chaos.”
“I’ll say,” Riley Jr. says.
“Chaos,” Riley repeats. “So us Vegas girls, we got ourselves into a tight circle, see? Like we do onstage, you know? And then we start singing in the rain, you know, ‘Singing in the Rain’?”
“No kidding?” I ask.
“I’m kidding. No, we started our Peggy Lee number, ‘All Right, OK, You Win.’ We really started kicking ass then, didn’t we hun?”
Riley Jr. perks up and smiles, “I got Sheila right in the jaw.”
“Did you?” I ask, “Oh, that sounds sweet. So that was it then, huh?”
“No! Silly goose,” Riley says. “Because they regrouped, and started singing ‘New York, New York,’ and they brought their own band, and they had their speakers on the float, so they were louder than our band. So naturally, we started belting out ‘Viva Las Vegas’, and then we had a stalemate-“
“And that is when the zombies came?” I ask.
“Yes,” Riley sighs. “That is when the zombies came. We were in our tight little circle, our wounded in the center. Their wounded were all around us, and the unhurt were surrounding them, and the zombies surrounded everyone. It was choreographed mayhem, only it weren’t so choreographed. As they started moving in for the final round, the zombies started attacking the outer circle of Rockettes and natives.”
“Really? Was there blood and guts?” I ask.
“Oh yeah,” Riley Jr. says.
“Too much,” Riley says. “Some of the Rockettes joined our circle as soon as the zombies started killing off the band members. Then there was only thunderbolts and lightning-“
“Very very frightning?”
“Si!” says George.
“No George,” I correct him, “it’s thunderbolt and lightning, very very frightning me…it’s a song.”
George looks at the doc; they are both clueless, as is Riley Jr.
“Yeah, so kinda clichéd but we segued into Queen’s ‘We Will Rock You,’ to finish off the zombies.”
“And then what?” I ask.
“That was it, who’d a thunk it, huh? Veg
as girls and Rockettes joining forces like that. It didn’t last no longer than the last zombie though, because by then we outnumbered everyone, Rockettes, natives, and band members. Basically cleaned house down that end of the street. Then some of us girls went out to find the elephants because we noticed them missing, and we tracked them to your friend George.”
“Si, I come out of the broken zombie wall just as they arrive, I miss all the action too, Senor.”
“That’s comforting, George,” I say. “But wait a second, what happened to all the droves of people?”
“They missed out on the after party party, silly,” Riley tickles my toes. “We round up the elephants, well, the bull elephant helped us out with that, he had them all at the bottom of that wash George was talking about. Me and Riley Jr. go back up the main strip to our shop, because we’re filthy, and we need some of that super strong body wash. The lemon scented kind,” she offers me her wrist. “Smells good?”
I take a whiff and nod, “Smells like lemon meringue pie.”
“Yeah, well, that’s because you’re always with the desserts. But anyways, when we got there, Senor George was waiting at our shop.”
“We thought he was dead,” Riley Jr. says.
“Yeah, he was like a statue. He asks us where you are, Riley Jr. faints…she takes after you in that department.”
Riley Jr. winks at me. She takes after her mom in the winking department. She’s a cutie.
“I wake her up, because I’m anxious to see you, and that is when we found you playing with your skateboard friends. You didn’t look good.”
“We thought you were dead,” Riley Jr. says again.
“Only she didn’t faint, she started crying, as did I. George kept it together, asked where the hospital was, and here you are.”
“Here I am. So Doc, when can I get out of here, with the casts and all?”
“Oh, a few days. Speaking of getting out of here, ladies, gentleman, it has been a delightful afternoon. But, as you can see, the rain has slowed, and I am off to my cabana. Good evening, and you sir. Get some rest. We’ll have you up and around in no time.”
He shakes my finger; I got my hands all up in traction. Clifford the Big Red Dog is playing on the TV. Riley Jr. gets up.
“I have to use the little ladies room, may I be excused?” she asks.
“Such manners, huh?” Riley Sr. says. “Sure hun, but don’t be too long, we’re gunna head out in a min.”
“Senor, I too must be off. Senorita, Senor. Oh, I almost forget. Out in the hall, a gift from Senor Jefe.”
George walks out of the room, comes back in with a bamboo cage. There’s a white dove inside.
“Wow, take a look at those beady eyes, huh Riley?” I say. “Ain’t that swell…I’ll have to thank him…”
“What is it?” Riley asks.
“Well, you know, this whole thing, I guess its back to the grindstone for me, ain’t it George?”
“I guess? Senor? His not my problem. Adios, Senor. Senorita.”
Me and Riley watch him go.
“He’s something, ain’t he?” I say.
“Well yeah, he was only like, what, world champion twice? Olympic gold winner, I forget what his record was…what was it?” she asks.
“What are you talking about?”
“George Stoneman’s record? You’re the big boxing nut-“
“Wait. That was George Stoneman? The George Stoneman? George! George!” I shout. “Get em back in, Riley, get em back!”
Riley goes out the door.
She comes back in a little while later, “He’s gone.”
“Really? He was like my biggest idol until Spike Grindstone came on the scene, then off the scene, then George Stoneman came back on the scene. Unbelievable. George Stoneman.”
“You didn’t know it was him?”
“No. But hold on, he told me he killed his brother when he was younger, I don’t remember that, do you?”
“I do recall he had a rough upbringing. Wouldn’t surprise me,” she sighs.
“Why all the incognito stuff acting like he’s Mexican?” I ask.
“Oh. Oh that. I asked him about that too. After he started pushing that doggie cone thingie, you know? Like the Stoneman Grill. The anti-zombie biting collar. He didn’t like how people started, you know, abusing the dead with it. So he gave up his life, his identity, became an abolitionist. He’s something else, ain’t he?”
“Yeah,” I say. You know, I wanted to be the guy to find that out. Ugh.
“What’s wrong now?”
I look at her, “Wrong? Nothing. Why?”
“You just look so sad, and your face looks so good now that the swelling is down, you look almost human again.”
I look out the window. It’s no use though, it’s dark out. And all I see is my beautiful childhood sweetheart, and me all mummified.
“Cheer up, you,” Riley says. “Here. There looks like there’s a note from your old boss on this bird. You read that, and I’ll get you a mirror so you can see how good the doc fixed you up. You’re like a brand new man.”
“I guess,” I say. She goes out the door, Riley Jr. comes back in. She sits on the bed.
“Where’s mom going?” she asks.
“To get a mirror,” I say. I fiddle with the note, my hand is stretched way out, and this cast don’t let me move the note in any.
“What is this?” I say. “It’s all fuzzy.”
“Oh, the doctor said something about you probably needed reading glasses from now on.”
“Can you read it for me, dear?”
She takes the note, “Enjoy your new life.” She hands the note back to me. “Well, duh, no kidding.”
“Did he sell me off, do you know?”
“I don’t think so, did Mom say anything?”
Riley Sr. comes back in, hears the last bit, “Did mom say anything what? Here, take a look at the new you.”
I take the mirror.
“Do you know if Dad got sold?”
“Hey!” I say. “Look at me! How did this happen?” (I don’t have my tattoo anymore. Plus, I look like my old self before I got in that car accident with Dodge.)
“The doc did a good job, sweetie. I gave him an old Paul Williams album cover to work off of.”
“Couldn’t you have…you know, gave him somebody, I don’t know, maybe a little more handsome?”
“Always complaining,” she says.
“I like this piercing,” the doc put my lucky pencil through my ear.
“Yeah, the doctor fixed that dent in your head, so we had to figure where to keep your silly pencil,” she leans over and kisses me. Riley Jr. does too.
“I love you, Daddy,” she says.
“I love you too, sweetheart. You take care of your mother. Silly pencil. Sheesh. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”
“You want us to bring anything?” Riley Sr. asks.
“Maybe a lemon meringue pie?”
“With this humidity? Are you kidding me? We’ll see what we can do. Lovies.”
“Lovies.”
I watch them leave the room, their high heels click-clacking down the hall. I roll up the note in my fingers and flick it. I’m real sorry about the anticlimactic ending. I wish I was there too. It’s like that piece of pork in the can of beans I was telling you about earlier. It looks like bacon. Even smells like bacon. But it sure don’t taste like bacon. I don’t blame the Canadians for that, though. Hey…you think, maybe that little giblet of fake pork is…zombie?
The bird coos next to me.
Good night.
The End.
Epilogue
Deviled Zombie Eyes
Ingredients:
6 freshly killed zombies
1 can crème of mushroom soup
3 mustard packets
3 mayonnaise packets
1 teaspoon paprika
1 large onion, halved
water to cover
garnish (optional)
Make
sure zombies were killed in the last 24 hours. If you're not comfortable killing your own zombie, ask a professional. It doesn't matter if the eyeballs are intact within the skull, or if they're hanging out of the eye socket. We'll put them back in the skull for presentation purposes later. If they're older than 24 hours, forget it. No amount of boiling is going to make the eyeballs any less rubbery.
Scoop out eyeballs from sockets, discard optic nerves (optionally, cut up the optic nerves and use later in broth for seasoning). You can find an abundance of canned crème of mushroom soup in any abandoned shopping center. If you find any cans of dog food, great! The recipe doesn’t call for it, but give yourself a pat on the back for a good find. Canned dog food is a delicacy and hard to come by these days. Open the can of crème of mushroom soup, and discard contents. They have zero nutritional value. We will use the can later to store the eyeball fluid in.
Next, find the condiments in any abandoned fast food establishment. Don't bother looking for any frozen meats, they went bad as soon as the power grid went down. If you find any breads, great. Make sure the bread isn't moldy. If made into sandwiches, moldy bread will distract from the tangy taste of zombie eyes. The condiment ratio is a packet each of mayo and mustard per set of eyes. Any more, or any less, will overpower (or under enhance) the taste…just like moldy bread.
Halve each eyeball, starting at the pupil, and work your way towards the back of the eye. Don't worry about the watery fluid that leaks out, we're after the gooey stuff that hangs off the back of the eye, (or the retina, to be scientific). After halving the eyes, retain eye goo in the empty crème of mushroom soup can.
Heat the eye goo over low flame until it obtains a slightly milky appearance. Discard any foam that collects around the edge of the can (that's just left over crème of mushroom soup remnants and again, it has absolutely no nutritional value).
Dice onion. If no onions are available, use the "po man's onion,” aka the heel of the zombie's foot. If the zombie is wearing shoes, discard the shoe first before removing heel. If shoeless, make do with what you have. If the zombie foot has a strong scent of tortilla or corn chips, it's most likely a teenage boy zombie...make do with what you have.
Put eyeball halves and diced onion (or diced onion substitute) in shallow pan, or preferably old hubcap off vintage Chevy Nova, cover with water. If you can't find a Chevy Nova, you're not looking hard enough and missing out on the intricate flavors a classic car brings, as brake dust and dried engine oil truly enhances the flavor of the eyeball. Cover with water, edge side of eyeball facing up. Bring to rolling boil. Try to keep the eyes from touching each other too much, they tend to stick together as they start to get firm.
You can tell the eyes are close to done when you can pinch the edges together and they don't quite stick. If they still stick, don't worry, keep boiling. If the edges come apart too quickly, you over cooked them. You're lucky if the eyes don't jump out of the pot, because overcooking them just makes them elastic. You may as well halve some old tennis balls and call it a day.
Remove eyes from water, let cool for fifteen minutes. Mix boiled eye goo with mustard and mayo until you have a mixture that sticks to the spoon when turned upside down.
Carefully fill each eyeball half with eye goo filling, approx. 1 teaspoon per eye. Sprinkle with paprika. For garnish you can use parsley, dandelion leaf, or if the zombie is hairy, dried zombie scalp (hair side out). You can use the skull to put the eyes back in, but that's personal preference. Some people like to put the halves back together and make the zombie all cock-eyed, or cross-eyed. I had one guy at a party try to pass off overcooked eyes as cataracts. No good.
Be creative, if non-moldy bread is available (even if it has sesame seeds on it, it will work in a pinch), simply mash up day old deviled zombie eyeballs in a bowl (or hubcap) and make a nice creamy zombie eye salad. It's great on crackers too! (Substitute fingers for crackers if none available...your fingers, not zombie fingers. That would be gross and uncouth to eat zombie eye salad off zombie fingers. Your fingers are ok, just pretend you're at a picnic and ran out of clean plastic forks.) You can substitute left over Easter Eggs if you're short on zombies, but then you're just making Deviled Eggs, so what good is that?
I can't emphasize enough do not overcook the zombie eyes. Seriously. The eye should more or less melt in your mouth (after overcoming gag reflex, of course). Bone appetite!
About the Author
John Kelly started writing at an early age, but was dissuaded from pursuing it as a means of making money. Still, he enjoyed entertaining his peers in high school with his bizarre stories that lampooned teachers and life in general. He returned to writing again later in life and has not looked back. The stories he likes to tell tend to inadvertently see humor sneak in, regardless how dark the subject matter. When he’s not writing, he’s making his living writing software and patiently waiting until the end of the day, where he can return to doing what he loves: eating Oreo cookies and staring at a blank word processor.
Other books, stories, and soon to come:
Prickly Pair, - A romantic tale of a sentient severed penis
The Pezzolanti Collar, - A strange zombie tale, free out on the internet
Corpses and Chrome, - A post-apocalyptic zombie world 50 years out from the outbreak, where bikers and biters duel to the death…if one could define death in a zombie world.
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