Mouse.
The Great Mouse Detective.
Status Update:
Diane Gardner, 44 years of age, has a Lhasa Apso named Chunky. Favorite films are Steel Magnolias and Sleepless In Seattle. Spouse is Richard Gardner. Four children ages 16, 18, 24, 27. Republican. Christian faith. On level 567 of Candy Crush. Doesn't believe in marriage equality. Has a Pool. Hates Beyoncé.
She must be the devil incarnate.
The smell of cigarette smoke snapped me out of my trance. I set the phone down on my lap and looked at my surroundings. Much to my confusion the sun was shining directly in my eyes. I didn't even remember getting up let alone walking outside and sitting back down.
"How long have we been out here?" I asked.
Pencil lowered the cigarette from her lips and stared at me incredulously.
"We've been sitting here for half an hour. How high are you?"
"Very," I responded, "But that's beside the point. I've got a plan."
Bee stopped filing her nails to stare at me with a hopeful look.
"Please tell me your plan involves ordering some Thai food."
"It doesn't." After seeing her pout I was quick to add, "But it can!"
I handed the phone to Pencil and sat back to bask in my glory. They'll see the genius of my plan. They'll praise me for having the creativity of coming up with such a thing. Bee will tell me that I have reinstated her honor and Pencil will be so pleased that she'll never again get mad at me for calling her Pencil. Maybe I'd even be gifted with a standing ovation.
"I don't get it."
Scratch that standing ovation.
I groaned loudly and snatched the phone back.
"Don't you see?" I asked impatiently. "This dude is her son!"
During my detective work I had found out many things about our nemesis Diane. One of these things was that she had a twenty-four year old son named Ben who worked at a bar only a couple blocks from my apartment. From what I had gathered from his profile he was the complete opposite of his mother. He liked Harry Potter, cats, and Barbra Streisand.
Pencil still didn't understand. She arched a brow at me and took a long drag of her cigarette.
"You found her kid's profile. So what?"
"Oh, Pencil-"
"That's not my name."
"You clueless, beautiful, espresso shot. Don't you see?!"
Pencil's eyes rolled so hard they were likely to stay like that forever.
"You know what? I'm gonna order some food. You can explain your 'master plan' to Bee."
She put out her cigarette and marched into the house while muttering under her breath. I had the sneaking suspicion she was muttering about me. Whatever. She clearly wasn't understanding where I was going with this. I turned to Bee who had gone back to filing her nails. She paused for a second and looked at me seriously.
"Before you unveil this plan, can I ask you something?"
I nodded encouragingly, "Anything, dude."
The rays of sunlight only enhanced Bee's beauty. She looked upset, her full lower lip caught between her teeth, but I could take a picture of her right now and it could be put on the front page of some fashion magazine. Her hair was currently wrapped up in a patterned satin scarf. When I initially asked her about it she said that it was because she didn't feel like doing her hair. That may have been true, but ever since Monday she had become more withdrawn. I hadn't seen her laugh or smile in days. It reminded me too much of when we were in school and kids were bullying her non stop.
"Is it.."
Bee stopped and looked down at the grass beneath us. She picked at a few blades before looking back at me.
"Is it bad that I feel bad? I mean, that lady wouldn't be writing all that if I had just given her the drink."
Oh no, no no no. I refused to let Bee think that this was in any way her fault.
I grasped her hands firmly in my own and gave them a light squeeze.
"Listen up and listen good, Beatriz. None of this is your fault, okay? That lady is a bitch with horrible hair. She's not going to get away with writing about the cafe and she sure as Hell isn't going to get away with talking to you the way she did. Got it? We're going to take care of this. I promise."
Bee blinked away the wetness that had started to form in her eyes.
"Got it," she said in a shaky voice.
"Good," I said firmly. "Are you ready to hear my plan?"
She took a second to compose herself and then nodded.
"Hit me."
I sat up straight and grinned proudly.
"I'm going to fuck him."
The nail file hit the grass with a soft thud.
"What?"
"I'm going to allow him inside of me," I explained. "But don't worry. We'll use protection."
Bee did something I hadn't seen in days. She laughed. It started as a small snort then delved into a fit of giggles. Tears were filling her eyes as she clutched at her sides. Eventually I joined in and started laughing with her. I don't know why, maybe because her laughter was contagious, maybe because her good mood was lightening my mood, maybe because I was still pretty baked, but laughing with her felt good. I hadn't seen her smile in that openly in days.
"Y-You're gonna.." She snorted again, "You're gonna fuck him? What is that going to do? It won't magically take the comments off Facebook!"
That was true and I knew it, but something had to be done. I had to do something to make my friends feel better.
"I know it won't. It won't take back that shit she said to you either," I said sadly. "But you know what it will do? Give us our own tasty little morsel of petty revenge. Just think about it. If we ever see Diane again then I can truthfully tell her to go fuck herself the way her son fucked me. How satisfying would that be?"
Bee chewed her lip in thought. I could see the wheels turning in that pretty little head of hers. She was, and always will be, the reigning queen of pettiness. When kids were mean to us in school she'd break into their lockers and rip the erasers off the ends of their pencils. She was also known to tear up their homework and leave it in tiny little bits for the kids to find. So this idea should be right up her alley.
After the longest minute of my life she finally spoke.
"Mouse," she started, "You're going to fuck... Shit. What's his name again?"
"Ben," I supplied.
"You're going to fuck Ben."
We grinned at one another and then high fived.
This was shaping up to be an okay kind of day. We were doing damage control for the cafe, Pencil was ordering Thai food, and I had just come up with a brilliant plan. What could go wrong?
Diane Gardner, 44 years of age, has a Lhasa Apso named Chunky. Favorite films are Steel Magnolias and Sleepless In Seattle. Spouse is Richard Gardner. Four children ages 16, 18, 24, 27. Republican. Christian faith. On level 567 of Candy Crush. Doesn't believe in marriage equality. Has a Pool. Hates Beyoncé.
She must be the devil incarnate.
The smell of cigarette smoke snapped me out of my trance. I set the phone down on my lap and looked at my surroundings. Much to my confusion the sun was shining directly in my eyes. I didn't even remember getting up let alone walking outside and sitting back down.
"How long have we been out here?" I asked.
Pencil lowered the cigarette from her lips and stared at me incredulously.
"We've been sitting here for half an hour. How high are you?"
"Very," I responded, "But that's beside the point. I've got a plan."
Bee stopped filing her nails to stare at me with a hopeful look.
"Please tell me your plan involves ordering some Thai food."
"It doesn't." After seeing her pout I was quick to add, "But it can!"
I handed the phone to Pencil and sat back to bask in my glory. They'll see the genius of my plan. They'll praise me for having the creativity of coming up with such a thing. Bee will tell me that I have reinstated her honor and Pencil will be so pleased that she'll never again get mad at me for calling her Pencil. Maybe I'd even be gifted with a standing ovation.
"I don't get it."
Scratch that standing ovation.
I groaned loudly and snatched the phone back.
"Don't you see?" I asked impatiently. "This dude is her son!"
During my detective work I had found out many things about our nemesis Diane. One of these things was that she had a twenty-four year old son named Ben who worked at a bar only a couple blocks from my apartment. From what I had gathered from his profile he was the complete opposite of his mother. He liked Harry Potter, cats, and Barbra Streisand.
Pencil still didn't understand. She arched a brow at me and took a long drag of her cigarette.
"You found her kid's profile. So what?"
"Oh, Pencil-"
"That's not my name."
"You clueless, beautiful, espresso shot. Don't you see?!"
Pencil's eyes rolled so hard they were likely to stay like that forever.
"You know what? I'm gonna order some food. You can explain your 'master plan' to Bee."
She put out her cigarette and marched into the house while muttering under her breath. I had the sneaking suspicion she was muttering about me. Whatever. She clearly wasn't understanding where I was going with this. I turned to Bee who had gone back to filing her nails. She paused for a second and looked at me seriously.
"Before you unveil this plan, can I ask you something?"
I nodded encouragingly, "Anything, dude."
The rays of sunlight only enhanced Bee's beauty. She looked upset, her full lower lip caught between her teeth, but I could take a picture of her right now and it could be put on the front page of some fashion magazine. Her hair was currently wrapped up in a patterned satin scarf. When I initially asked her about it she said that it was because she didn't feel like doing her hair. That may have been true, but ever since Monday she had become more withdrawn. I hadn't seen her laugh or smile in days. It reminded me too much of when we were in school and kids were bullying her non stop.
"Is it.."
Bee stopped and looked down at the grass beneath us. She picked at a few blades before looking back at me.
"Is it bad that I feel bad? I mean, that lady wouldn't be writing all that if I had just given her the drink."
Oh no, no no no. I refused to let Bee think that this was in any way her fault.
I grasped her hands firmly in my own and gave them a light squeeze.
"Listen up and listen good, Beatriz. None of this is your fault, okay? That lady is a bitch with horrible hair. She's not going to get away with writing about the cafe and she sure as Hell isn't going to get away with talking to you the way she did. Got it? We're going to take care of this. I promise."
Bee blinked away the wetness that had started to form in her eyes.
"Got it," she said in a shaky voice.
"Good," I said firmly. "Are you ready to hear my plan?"
She took a second to compose herself and then nodded.
"Hit me."
I sat up straight and grinned proudly.
"I'm going to fuck him."
The nail file hit the grass with a soft thud.
"What?"
"I'm going to allow him inside of me," I explained. "But don't worry. We'll use protection."
Bee did something I hadn't seen in days. She laughed. It started as a small snort then delved into a fit of giggles. Tears were filling her eyes as she clutched at her sides. Eventually I joined in and started laughing with her. I don't know why, maybe because her laughter was contagious, maybe because her good mood was lightening my mood, maybe because I was still pretty baked, but laughing with her felt good. I hadn't seen her smile in that openly in days.
"Y-You're gonna.." She snorted again, "You're gonna fuck him? What is that going to do? It won't magically take the comments off Facebook!"
That was true and I knew it, but something had to be done. I had to do something to make my friends feel better.
"I know it won't. It won't take back that shit she said to you either," I said sadly. "But you know what it will do? Give us our own tasty little morsel of petty revenge. Just think about it. If we ever see Diane again then I can truthfully tell her to go fuck herself the way her son fucked me. How satisfying would that be?"
Bee chewed her lip in thought. I could see the wheels turning in that pretty little head of hers. She was, and always will be, the reigning queen of pettiness. When kids were mean to us in school she'd break into their lockers and rip the erasers off the ends of their pencils. She was also known to tear up their homework and leave it in tiny little bits for the kids to find. So this idea should be right up her alley.
After the longest minute of my life she finally spoke.
"Mouse," she started, "You're going to fuck... Shit. What's his name again?"
"Ben," I supplied.
"You're going to fuck Ben."
We grinned at one another and then high fived.
This was shaping up to be an okay kind of day. We were doing damage control for the cafe, Pencil was ordering Thai food, and I had just come up with a brilliant plan. What could go wrong?