Crazy Little Thing

by Layce Gardner

  “They’re going to be here any minute,” Claire said.

  “If you lub meb, show meb,” Scarlet demanded. She cleared her nasal passages in one big snuffle that made Claire cringe. “Or I’ll never let you go with her.”

  Claire sighed. She was going to have to do this or Scarlet would never let her hear the end of it. She slid to the floor on her knees facing the bed. She pulled Scarlet’s butt to the edge of the bed, raised her skirt and discovered that Scarlet wasn’t wearing panties. That could mean only one thing. Scarlet had planned this scenario all along.

  Claire took a deep breath. Why did she suddenly feel like a scuba diver whose oxygen tank was on empty?

  She closed her eyes and dove in.

  Scary Movie

  G-Ray turned on the camera. He balanced it on his shoulder while peering through its viewfinder. “Here we are at Claire’s house,” he narrated. “I am standing at the front door. I am now knocking.”

  He knocked. The door creaked open under the force of his knuckles, revealing nobody on the other side. G-Ray whispered to Ollie. “This is sinister, man. I think we should run.”

  “Run?” Ollie said. “You want me to run? Run where?”

  “Haven’t you ever seen a scary movie? They all start with doors that are already open. Plus, it squeaked. Doors that squeak always signal something evil lurking within. It’s not a good sign.”

  “This is Claire and Scarlet’s house. Not the Hellmouth,” Ollie said. Of course she did think that perhaps G-Ray had a point and that the evil lurking inside was none other than Scarlet. Ollie pushed G-Ray out of the way and peeked around the front door into the living room. “Yoo hoo? Anybody home?”

  “What does ‘yoo hoo’ mean anyway?” G-Ray asked, following her inside. “You ever wonder where that phrase comes from? And why did they name a chocolate drink after it?”

  “Sshh,” Ollie whispered. “Hear that?” She walked into the middle of the living room with G-Ray close on her heels.

  “I don’t hear anything, man. We should get out of here,” he said. “I think I smell sulphur.”

  “That’s not sulphur, it’s patchouli incense. The smell of lesbians.”

  G-Ray sniffed the air. “Interesting. Very earthy.”

  “Listen! There it is again.”

  G-Ray and Ollie perked up their ears. A low moaning sound echoed down the hallway. Ollie morphed into superhero mode. “I’m coming, Claire! I’ll save you!”

  Ollie charged down the hallway and threw her shoulder against the last door. The door flew open, crashing into the wall behind it. Ollie put on the brakes when she saw Scarlet thrown back across the bed with Claire’s head under her skirt.

  Scarlet raised up on both elbows and looked at Ollie. “Do you mind?”

  Ollie said, “Whoops.”

  G-Ray charged into the room, bumping into Ollie’s back. He aimed the camera at the scene on the bed.

  Claire peeked out from under Scarlet’s skirt. “Oh my God, please tell me this isn’t happening,” she muttered. Mortified, she re-buried her face in Scarlet’s crotch.

  Ollie turned and looked right into the camera lens. “Well, there goes your PG rating.”

  Number One

  Scarlet paced back and forth across the living room, her heels tap-tap-tapping on the parquet floor. Claire and Ollie sat on opposite ends of the sofa, hands folded in their laps, eyes following Scarlet. They looked like kids who had been sent to the Principal’s office and were awaiting punishment. G-Ray stood in the corner filming.

  Scarlet stopped pacing and said, “Okay, let me get this straight. You are going to drive to Iowa to --”

  Ollie waved her hand in the air.

  “What?” Scarlet asked.

  “I object to your use of the word ‘straight,’” Ollie said.

  Claire giggled. A sharp look from Scarlet made Claire swallow her laughter. “As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” Scarlet continued, “I didn’t want her riding with you and she wouldn’t be if some idiot hadn’t smashed into her car. Now, I have to drive it up there when the auto shop is finally finished repairing it.” She crossed her arms over her ample chest. “I’m certainly not going to let her live with you,” Scarlet declared in a barely controlled voice.

  Ollie raised her hand in the air again.

  “What? Why do you keep raising your hand?” Scarlet said.

  Ollie ignored her question. “I object to your inference. It’s a really big house. We’re house-sitting for a professor who’s on sabbatical. It’s not like we’re not sharing a bedroom or anything.”

  “You are moving to Iowa for three months and living in the same house as my fiancé and you think I should be okay with this?”

  Ollie stuck her hand in the air again.

  “What now, Ollie?”

  “I object to the word fiancé. I mean, can you really be engaged when she’s still married?”

  “I am not here to argue semantics,” Scarlet fumed. “And why the hell is that man with the natty hair filming everything?”

  G-Ray answered, “I’m making a documentary on lesbian divorces. I got a grant to do the filming and that grant is totally paying our way, man. This divorce isn’t going to cost you a nickel. Genius idea, am I right?”

  “We’re not signing anything,” Scarlet declared. “I’m a lawyer, I know these things. You can’t use our image unless we sign that it’s okay to do so.”

  Claire cleared her throat. “Um… I already signed a waiver.”

  “What?” Scarlet yelped. “You signed something without your lawyer looking at it?”

  “I thought you would like it. It makes this whole thing free. And I know how you like the word free.”

  “Well, I’m not signing anything,” Scarlet said.

  “You don’t have to,” G-Ray said. “We can just blur your face. And as for the porno incident earlier, I can put one of those black bars over your bleep.”

  “Did you say bleep?” Scarlet said.

  Ollie raised her hand.

  Scarlet pointed at her.

  Ollie supplied the missing word. “Pussy. He meant to say pussy.”

  “Yeah, man, the P-word,” G-Ray said.

  Ollie stuck her hand up in the air and waved it around.

  “Stop raising your hand,” Scarlet said. “Just talk when you want to say something.”

  “Okay,” Ollie said. “Can I go to the bathroom?”

  “You’re asking my permission?” Scarlet asked.

  Ollie stood and danced from foot to foot. “I have to number one really bad.”

  “Go, go, go,” Scarlet said, waving her hand.

  Ollie left the room. She knew she was being a pain in the ass with all the hand raising and some people might have even accused her of being childish, but she couldn’t help herself. If Scarlet insisted on treating them like children then she was going to act like a child. Besides, she thought it was funny.

  Ollie closed the bathroom door and looked in the mirror. Her face looked sunburned. It wasn’t, though. What she was seeing coloring her face was nothing but good ol’ jealousy. She had walked in on an intimate moment and instead of feeling embarrassed, she felt jealous. Claire was making love to another woman and she was going to have to face the fact that Claire didn’t want her anymore.

  That didn’t keep it from hurting, though.

  She opened the medicine cabinet and took a look-see. It was surprising what you could learn about a person by what medicine they took. Ollie read off the labels: Vagisil. Lavender scented feminine spray. Half a bottle of amoxycilin. Stool softeners. Ex-lax. Ollie closed the door. She had seen too much. Now she’d never be able to look at Scarlet again without thinking about yeast infections and constipation.

  She flushed the toilet so people would think she really did have to go to the bathroom and headed back to the living room. She heard Claire’s raised voice coming from the living room. She stopped in the shadows of the hallway, listening.

  Here is what O
llie overheard:

  Scarlet: I don’t want you going.

  Claire: I have to go. Unless you want me to stay married to her.

  Scarlet: I can’t stand the thought of you sharing a house with her.

  Claire: We have to, Scarlet. We have to establish residency. We’ve been through all this, why are you changing your mind now?

  Scarlet: Because… (Ollie could hear the pout in her voice.) Because before it was just a thought. It was something that may happen in the future. Now the future is here and it’s real and I don’t want to lose you.

  Claire: Baby, you aren’t going to lose me. Don’t you know I hate the very thought of spending any time with that woman? This is pure torture for me.

  Scarlet: (In a baby voice.) Weally?

  Claire: Weally weally.

  Ollie made silent gagging noises. She cleared her throat as she entered the room, interrupting Claire and Scarlet’s deep-throated kiss. They had evidently forgotten G-Ray’s presence. He was still standing in the corner and filming. He gave her the universal hand signal for gag me.

  “So,” Ollie said, “Anything interesting happen while I was in the bathroom?”

  Claire pulled away from the kiss. And if Ollie wasn’t mistaken, she thought Claire looked a little… What was the word? Repulsed. But that was probably her imagination. How could your very own fiancé repulse you?

  “Ready to rock and roll,” Claire said brightly. She rubbed her palms together. “Can somebody help me with my luggage?”

  Nobody moved.

  “And by ‘somebody’ I mean you, Ollie,” Claire said.

  Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go

  Ollie and Claire stood on the sidewalk and watched Scarlet walk a wide circle around the van, studying it from every angle. Scarlet read aloud each bumper sticker: Surfers do it standing up. Honk if you’re horny. Vagina is for lovers. I brake for boobs. Butthole Surfers.

  Scarlet raised an eyebrow at Ollie. “Quite a collection.”

  Ollie smiled proudly. “Thank you. It’s my quest to get a bumper sticker from every state I drive through.”

  “Quest?”

  “Yeah, you know how most people get a fridge magnet from where they visit. I’m collecting bumper stickers.”

  “It’s an admirable goal,” Claire said.

  Ollie couldn’t tell if Claire was mocking her or not. She felt like a little kid around Claire. Why was it that she felt responsible and grown-up until she was face-to-face with Claire? Then she felt like a twelve-year-old boy with a hard-on. The hard-on part was okay. The twelve-year-old part not so much.

  G-Ray joined Ollie on the sidewalk. “Has it passed inspection?”

  “Not yet,” Ollie said.

  “I still need to look inside,” Claire said.

  “It smells like corn nuts and gym socks in there,” G-Ray said helpfully. “But you get used to it after a couple of miles.”

  Ollie poked him in the ribs with her elbow. “Shhhh.”

  Claire slid open the door and leaned inside, her butt aimed right at Ollie. Ollie took a moment to appreciate the sight. Other people traveled the world over to admire the Great Wall of China or the Great Pyramids of Giza. Ollie didn’t even have to leave her hometown to admire the Great Ass of Claire.

  G-Ray knew a money shot when he saw one. He quickly turned on his camera and zoomed in on Claire’s ass sticking out of the van.

  Ollie saw where the camera was aimed and made a slashing motion across her throat at G-Ray. He smiled sheepishly and moved the camera’s focus to the tower of suitcases stacked on the sidewalk.

  Oscar barked from inside the van.

  Claire straightened and looked over her shoulder at Ollie. “Please tell me that’s not a dog I just saw.”

  Ollie smiled. “That’s not a dog you just saw.”

  Oscar yipped.

  Ollie shrugged. “What I meant to say is, that’s no ordinary dog. It’s Oscar. He’s my baby.”

  At the sound of Ollie’s voice, Oscar bounded out of the van and leaped into Ollie’s outstretched arms. He licked Ollie’s cheek.

  “Your baby is wearing a hefty bag,” Scarlet observed.

  “It’s not a hefty bag,” Ollie said. “It’s a home-made rain coat.”

  Scarlet was not amused. She cocked an eyebrow at Ollie. “Color me dumb, but why is the dog wearing a raincoat?”

  G-Ray jumped in with the answer. “It’s not so much a raincoat as it is a condom. Like, a doggie condom. So what’s inside can’t get out.”

  “Oh my God,” Scarlet muttered, “What usually comes out of that dog?”

  “Claire is allergic to dogs, right?” Ollie said. “So, this was my solution. It keeps the doggie dander in.”

  “How do you know what I’m allergic to?” Claire asked.

  Ollie pulled a sheet of paper out of her back pocket. Neat lines of printed handwriting were scrawled on the front and back. “Scarlet wrote out this list and had it couriered over to me,” Ollie began to read from the top: “Things Claire is allergic to… Here we go, right here, Doughnuts. Dander. Dandruff. Daffodils. Dogs. Dildos. Dumb jokes. Ducks. Dill pickles…”

  Claire ripped the paper out of Ollie’s hands. “Let me see that!”

  “And that’s just the Ds,” Ollie said.

  “You gave this to her?” Claire asked Scarlet.

  Scarlet nodded. “As your current fiancé it is in my best interest to make sure your well-being is… being well.”

  Claire made a deep guttural sound, furiously wadded up the paper and shoved it into her mouth. And chewed. Ollie and G-Ray stared curiously. Oscar barked.

  “Spit that out right now!” Scarlet shrieked. She turned to Ollie and said, “She’s allergic to paper! Make her spit it out before she has an allergic reaction.”

  “I can’t do anything,” Ollie said. “She’s the mistress of her own destiny.”

  Scarlet held her palm in front of Claire’s nose. “Spit it out. Spit it out now.”

  Claire shook her head and gulped three times. “All gone.”

  Scarlet whipped around to Ollie and pointed one long, red fingernail at her. “This is all your fault. If she dies from intestinal blockage, I’ll hold you responsible.”

  “I’m not going to die,” Claire said. “Now help me get all these suitcases loaded.”

  “Um… about that,” Ollie said. “We only have room for one suitcase per person.”

  “If my luggage doesn’t go, I don’t go.”

  “You don’t understand, Claire. There’s not enough room.”

  Claire crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Ollie. “Then something is going to have to go.”

  “Wake me up before you go-go!” a voice exclaimed from the direction of the van.

  Everyone turned. EZ stood grinning in the open door. Ollie and G-Ray shouted simultaneously, “Wham!” They high-fived each other.

  “Whatever happened to George Michael anyway? I mean after he was arrested for giving blowjobs in the men’s bathroom,” G-Ray said.

  “I always thought he was gay,” Ollie said.

  “It was the hair. That was definitely a gay man’s hair-do,” G-Ray added.

  “He’s gay? He’s arrested? When?” EZ asked.

  “Like 1998,” Claire said. “Who are you?”

  “1998?” EZ’s smile wilted. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she crumpled to the floor of the van, snoring deeply.

  “Who the hell was that? What the hell was that?” Scarlet asked.

  “That’s EZ. We’re giving her a co-producer credit so she’s on the payroll,” G-Ray said. “She’s a narcoleptic.”

  “I hope she’s not driving,” Scarlet said.

  “Nah, she mostly sleeps. We had to bring her with us cause we couldn’t find a babysitter,” G-Ray said.

  “A babysitter?” Scarlet said.

  “She’s our roommate,” Ollie explained.

  Claire put her hands on her hips and faced Ollie. “Now about my luggage…?”

  EZ’s su
dden entrance and exit had given Ollie an idea. One that would make Claire happy and, by extension, everyone else happy, too.

  “I think I can make room in the van,” Ollie said.

  *

  Half an hour later they were on the road. Ollie was driving. Oscar, sans raincoat/condom, was in Ollie’s lap. Claire sat shotgun. G-Ray was hunkered over the tiny fold-down table playing back the footage he had shot. The bed was heaped with Claire’s suitcases.

  On top of the van, stretched out across Ollie’s surfboard, was EZ. She was wrapped in a hefty bag like a big plastic burrito and secured in place by bungee cords. She was sleeping like a baby.

  Everyone was happy.

  The First Two Hundred Miles

  At the twenty mile marker:

  “I’m sorry about Scarlet’s behavior,” Claire said from the passenger seat. “She can be a bit overbearing until you get to know her.”

  “And after you get to know her she’s just a bitch?” Ollie asked.

  *

  At the fifty mile marker:

  “Why did you bring your surfboard with you? Last I heard Des Moines is landlocked,” Claire said.

  Ollie let go of the steering wheel, squinted her eyes, teepee’d her hands under her chin and said with a bad Confucius accent, “Ahso… surfboard isn’t always surfboard. Sometimes is more than surfboard.”

  *

  At the one hundred mile marker:

  Claire squirmed in her seat, trying to discreetly scratch her bottom.

  “You know what I think?” Ollie said. “I think you’re not allergic to all that stuff. I think it’s all in your head.”

  Claire harrumphed the idea. “Tell that to my butt. It’s covered in hives.”

  Ollie turned loose of the steering wheel, cupped her hands around her mouth, and leaned down towards Claire’s butt. She yelled, “Excuse me, Claire’s butt? This is Ollie. Remember me? Yes, I miss you, too. So listen, enough with the hives already. The hives are psychosomatic.”