Crazy Little Thing

by Layce Gardner

  “You’ve done it again,” Claire pronounced as Ollie joined them.

  “Done what? What did I do?”

  “Bad news, man,” G-Ray said. “Every room is booked.”

  “So what?” Ollie said. “We’ll just go to another hotel.”

  “All the rooms, man. All the rooms are booked in the whole town.”

  “So, we’ll go to another town,” Ollie said.

  “All the rooms within hundreds of miles,” G-Ray said. “Claire already goggled it. It’s like the entire state has been fur-polized.”

  That explained the look on Claire’s face. And that explained why Ollie immediately went on the defensive. “It’s not my fault, Claire. It’s not like I sent out invitations to the whole Furrie population and invited them to the great state of Oklahoma for the weekend. So don’t look at me that way.”

  “Put the dog down,” Claire ordered through gritted teeth.

  “What?”

  “I said… Put the dog down.”

  Ollie did as instructed. Oscar ran and bounced into G-Rays arms. Claire took her purse off her shoulder, held it by the strap, wound up and pitched it right at Ollie. It hit her square in the belly.

  Ollie doubled over. All the air left her body in a giant whoosh. She crumpled to the floor, knowing how a fish must feel when it’s reeled out of the water and lies flopping on the bank.

  But Claire wasn’t through with her. She retrieved her purse and stood looking down at Ollie over the length of her perfectly shaped nose. “What is it about you? Everything that can get effed up about you always does. It’s like you’re a universal target for effed up scenarios - like Zeus is sitting on high and says, ‘You know what? I’m bored today, let’s send some effed up crap Ollie Hiland’s way and see how it affects her and anyone who has anything to do with her.’ Tell me, what are the chances of a big bunch of fur freaks landing in Tulsa and taking all the hotel rooms for the weekend - odds even Vegas wouldn’t play, but here we go - in Ollie-world anything and everything can happen. Our whole effing relationship had moments like this! What is it? Somebody please tell me so I can understand it!” Then she burst into tears.

  By the time Claire finished her tirade Ollie had her breath back. She slowly climbed to her feet. She watched Claire swipe at her tears then said, “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m a freak magnet. A big, ol’ freak magnet.”

  Claire wailed louder and marched away.

  “What? What did I say?” Ollie asked.

  “Well, if you’re a freak magnet, man, that makes her a freak,” G-Ray said.

  *

  Finding EZ was easy. All Ollie had to do was follow the angry voices. She elbowed her way through the knot of Furries and there EZ was – laid out on a baggage cart, snoring to beat the band.

  “The nerve of some humans,” a Dalmatian said.

  “They think just because they have opposable thumbs that they rule the world,” A Siamese cat said.

  Ollie ignored the irate Furries and grabbed one end of the luggage cart while G-Ray got the other end. Together they rolled EZ up to the front desk where Claire was standing.

  “Oh great, one more person to find a bed for.”

  “Claire, I don’t think we can tie her back up on top of the van. Look at her cheeks. She has a bad case of windburn already,” Ollie said.

  Claire turned to Ollie. Her eyes were puffy from crying and more than a little bloodshot. Ollie thought she looked kind of like how she did when first waking up in the morning. Ouch. Thinking about waking up next to Claire in the morning made Ollie’s heart hurt. Actually, what made her heart hurt was the thought of never again waking up next to Claire in the morning. Double ouch.

  “We’re staying,” Claire said. “There was a last minute cancellation and I grabbed it. It’s a suite with two bedrooms.”

  “A suite?” Ollie said. “Our budget won’t allow for that.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Scarlet paid with her credit card,” Claire said.

  “Scarlet paid? Why is she being so nice suddenly?”

  “Because she doesn’t know about it yet.”

  “Here you go, Ma’am,” the pudgy desk clerk said, handing Claire two electronic card keys. He eyed the comatose EZ who was snoring in the luggage cart, and said with the air of a seasoned hotel worker who has seen it all, “Do you need help with your luggage?”

  “Yes, please,” Claire said. She handed Ollie one of the key cards. “We’re in the Elvis Presley suite. Bring my luggage up with you.” She marched off to the bank of elevators.

  The clerk gestured to Oscar and said, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but our hotel has a strict no pets policy.”

  “He’s not a pet. He’s a Furry. He’s here for the convention,” Ollie said.

  The clerk sneered. “That is a very small Furry.”

  “He’s a midget,” Ollie said, crossing her arms. “You have something against midgets? Does your hotel discriminate against little people? And before you answer that question, might I suggest you think long and hard about what my lawyer will say about it. Because my lawyer will eat your ass for lunch.”

  The clerk seemed to know he was fighting a losing battle. He exhaled heavily and said, “Enjoy your stay at the Hard Rock, Ma’am.”

  “Thank you,” Ollie said with a tight smile.

  Red Rover, Red Rover

  It took the better part of an hour for Ollie and G-Ray to load the luggage cart. They had to take EZ off the cart and strap her floppy body to Ollie’s surfboard in order to move her around. Next, they loaded the cart with their two duffel bags and Claire’s whole line of designer luggage. Then they placed EZ on the surfboard on top of the whole thing. Ollie plunked Oscar on the uppermost point like the star topper on a Christmas tree.

  Ollie pushed the cart through the crowded lobby and G-Ray punched the up button for the elevator. While they were waiting for the elevator to descend, a big red dog walked up beside them and pushed the same button about five hundred times in five seconds. It could’ve been more times, but Ollie lost count.

  Ollie looked at G-Ray and rolled her eyes. Suddenly, the big red dog sneezed.

  “Bless you,” G-Ray said.

  The big red dog sneezed again. And again. And again.

  “Blessyoublessyoublessyoublessyoublessyou,” G-Ray said, frantically trying to keep up with the sneezes.

  The big red dog turned and glared through his eyeholes at Ollie. He pointed an accusing paw at Oscar. “That is a dog.”

  “Yep,” Ollie said.

  “I am allergic to dogs,” the big red dog said.

  Ollie laughed. “That’s pretty funny. You’re a dog and you’re allergic to dogs?”

  “I don’t find it funny. My throat is swelling shut as we speak,” the big red dog said.

  “Uh huh, and I’m allergic to human skin,” Ollie said with ultimate sarcasm. “That’s why I draped it all over myself.”

  The big red dog harrumphed and turned his furry back on her. A moment later, the elevator dinged and its doors slid open. Ollie and the big red dog moved for the sanctuary of the elevator at the same time. They ended up shoulder to shoulder, caught between its doors. Smooshed together they were too wide to get through. They jostled and pushed against each other. It became obvious that one of them was going to have to back down, but neither wanted to admit defeat.

  Oscar jumped off the rolling cart and flew to Ollie’s rescue. He barked and growled and when that didn’t make the big red dog back down, he went in for the kill. Oscar bit the big red dog on the ankle, latched on with his teeth and didn’t turn loose. Not to be left out, G-Ray grabbed the big red dog by the tail and pulled.

  The big red dog was now being pushed by Ollie, bitten by Oscar, and pulled on by G-Ray. As he flailed about he yelled, “Help! I’m being attacked! Help!”

  G-Ray dug in his heels and gave a mighty yank. There was an ominous Rrrrrrrip! G-Ray fell on his butt and slid into the wall, holding only a long red tail that wasn’t attached to anything.


  The big red dog turned and snatched his tail out of G-Ray’s hand. “How dare you! You, you, molester!”

  “Dood,” G-Ray said, conveying a multitude of emotions in that one word.

  In retaliation, the big red dog reached down and grabbed Oscar by his tail. He lifted Oscar up and began to whirl him around like a helicopter blade.

  “Oh no, you don’t!” Ollie shouted. She grabbed a newspaper from a nearby display, rolled it up and thwacked it on Rover’s backside, yelling, “Bad dog! Bad dog! You’re a bad dog!”

  Oscar jumped out of the big red dog’s grasp and ran away unharmed. The big red dog hunkered over and scurried away, trying desperately to avoid Ollie’s blows. Ollie chased after the big red dog, swatting him with the paper and saying, “Bad doggie! You mess with my baby and I’ll send you over the Rainbow Bridge before your time! Bad doggie!”

  The big red dog yelped, ran across the lobby and out the front doors with the rip in the back of his costume flapping open like a hospital gown, showing off his tidy-whiteys.

  Ollie dropped the paper and wiped her palms together. She looked at all the other Furry Looky-loos who were gathered around watching the show. “Shoo!” she said. “Scat! Go home!”

  Toot Suite

  Claire stood in the elevator with three Furries. They weren’t completely fur-suited. They were only wearing tails, paws and ears, which basically meant they could be dressed up as any animal that had a tail, four paws and two pointy ears. She couldn’t even begin to identify what species they were. Or was it genus? She was too upset to remember.

  Claire was on verge of tears; however, she refused to cave until she reached the sanctuary of her own room. There was nothing that she hated worse than when a woman ugly-cried in public. And doing it in front of her three homosapien canidae would be even more embarrassing.

  What had she been thinking down there? She couldn’t believe that she threw her purse at Ollie. Why was it that she found Ollie so damn infuriating? Or was it infurryiating? God, she was losing her mind.

  Claire had meant that euphemistically, of course. That is, until she opened the door to the Elvis suite. And then she knew for sure that she had officially lost her mind. The door opening triggered the song “Heartbreak Hotel” playing over the suite’s loudspeakers. She quickly shut the door.

  Claire opened the door again and heard, “Well, since my baby left me –”

  She closed the door. Silence.

  She opened it. “I’ve found a new place to dwell--”

  She closed the door. Silence.

  She opened it. “It’s down the end of lonely street at Heartbreak Hotel.”

  This time she stepped inside the suite before closing the door. She leaned against the wall, burst into tears and had a good, long cry complete with snuffles and hiccups. By the time she was done, she felt better. Only then did she look around and notice that the suite was done exclusively in Elvis memorabilia. And not necessarily the good kind either. There was a black velvet painting that covered the most of one wall. Elvis glowered sexily down at her with his glow-in-the-dark eyes.

  On the opposite wall behind glass cases were a gold lame sports jacket, a pair of blue suede shoes, a pair of gold sunglasses that had “TCB” written across the top, and an old seen-better-days guitar. Claire toured the suite. There were two bedrooms on either side of the sunken living room. The living room was done entirely in black and white zebra stripes. One bedroom was decorated in cheetah print and the other was all red hearts – heart-shaped bed, heart-shaped chairs, heart pillows, red shag carpet, red and white striped wallpaper with itty bitty glittery hearts splattered everywhere.

  It made Claire dizzy. She flopped down on the red heart bed and put a red heart pillow over her face. She was just about to doze off when she felt somebody sit on the edge of the bed.

  “Ollie?” There was no answer. She peeked out from under the pillow.

  It was Elvis. Elvis Presley was sitting on the edge of her bed! Claire gasped and crab-crawled backwards.

  “Don’t be scared of me, little lady,” Elvis crooned in his trademark buttery voice. “I don’t mean you no harm.”

  Claire pressed herself against the heart-shaped headboard and whimpered.

  “Look at me,” Elvis said, gesturing up and down his body. He was decked out in a white polyester jump suit with a cape thrown over one shoulder. The jumpsuit was bedazzled in tiny jewels. “No need to be scared. I’m fat. I’m old. If I tried any funny business you could grab that lamp with the hearts on it and whap me over the head. You could kill me before I could do a thing. If I wasn’t already dead, that is.”

  Claire didn’t say anything. She had read somewhere once that when an attacker was threatening you, the best thing to do was shut up and plan an exit strategy. The shut up part was easy. The exit strategy was proving to be harder to come up with.

  “The name is Elvis Presley. And as you can see, little lady, I’m a ghost. I died a long time ago.”

  Claire nodded. She was obviously dealing with a mad man. It would be best to not challenge his delusion. That would only enrage him.

  “I’m here to help you,” he said.

  Claire opened her mouth and a very weak, “Okay,” came out.

  “I heard you cryin’ your eyes out,” Elvis said. “If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s when a woman cries. And my mama didn’t raise me to ignore a woman when her heart’s a-breakin’ like that.”

  “I’m okay,” Claire said.

  “Uh huh,” Elvis nodded. “I figured you’d say that. I also figured that since you chose this here room with all the hearts, that maybe that there’s the problem.”

  “What problem?”

  “You got a broken heart problem, don’cha?” Elvis said.

  “No,” Claire said. “I’m in love with a wonderful woman. My heart is finally on track.”

  “Hunh,” Elvis grunted. “I once had a big, big burning love of my own.”

  “Priscilla?”

  “That’s right. And I let her get away.”

  “I’m sorry,” Claire said, feeling sorry for the big man.

  “Don’t let your big love get away from you,” he said. “Take my word for it. Don’t let her get away.”

  Claire nodded. She had an uncanny feeling he wasn’t talking about Scarlet.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you very much.” Then Elvis curled his top lip in his signature grin, winked at her and was gone. It was like he was never even there.

  *

  Ollie opened the door to the red heart bedroom and saw Claire on the bed with the pillow over her face. She watched Claire for a long moment, hoping she was asleep and not dead. No, she snored; she was definitely alive.

  Ollie quietly shut Claire’s door and walked over to the living room. She sat down next to G-Ray on the zebra print sofa. “G-Ray, I know you signed something that said Claire could have her own bedroom, but if we put EZ in there with her, it’s not really breaking the terms, is it? I mean, couldn’t EZ be thought of as baggage at this point?”

  “Smart thinking,” G-Ray said. He hoisted EZ and the surfboard across his shoulder and carried her into Claire’s bedroom. He was back in a flash. “She hardly takes up any room at all, man.”

  “Who’s going to get the other bedroom?” Ollie asked.

  “Rock, paper, scissors you for it,” G-Ray said.

  “You’re on.” They balled up their fists and on the count of three flashed their signs. G-Ray had scissors; Ollie had paper.

  “You win,” Ollie said. “Oscar and I will sleep on the couch out here, but I get to use your bathroom. I need a shower big time.”

  “Have at it, man,” G-Ray said. “I need to review the footage of Oscar humping the dog and you chasing the big red dog with the newspaper.” He plopped down on the couch and un-strapped his helmet cam.

  Ollie took Claire’s luggage, all ten suitcases, into the heart room and piled them on the floor at end of her bed. Then she grabbed her own duffel bag and he
aded to the bathroom.

  *

  Claire heard dinging. It sounded like her phone. Like she was getting a text message. She opened her eyes. Wow. She hadn’t even known she had fallen asleep. And what a weird dream she’d had. It had something to do with Elvis. Her phone dinged again. Claire sat up and dug her phone out of her purse.

  It was a text from Scarlet: WTH?

  Claire typed: WTH do you mean WTH?

  Scarlet: You used my card to get a suite at Hard Rock?

  Claire: I’ll pay you back.

  Scarlet: A suite?

  Claire: That was all that was available.

  Scarlet: Skype me.

  Claire: I’m going to take a shower first.

  Scarlet: NOW.

  Clare sighed. She saw her luggage at the foot of her bed and five minutes later had her computer up and running at the desk. She opened Skype and dialed. Within seconds, Scarlet’s face appeared on the screen. She was wearing the infamous “Scarlet Scowl.” That did not portend good things.

  Scarlet didn’t even say hello before berating Claire. “What are you doing in Tulsa? You were supposed to drive straight through.”

  “We were tired,” Claire said and yawned to prove her point.

  Scarlet squinted and leaned in closer to the computer. “Have you been in bed?”

  “Why?”

  “You have bed head.”

  “I took a nap.”

  Scarlet smirked. “Uh huh. You’ve slept with her, haven’t you?”

  “No!”

  “You have sex hair,” Scarlet accused.

  “I most certainly do not.”

  Suddenly, Scarlet gasped and pulled back. “Oh my God!”

  “What?” Claire asked.

  “There’s a woman in your bed!” Scarlet’s long red nail pointed to a place behind Claire.

  Claire turned and looked at the bed behind her. There was a woman in her bed! The woman was hidden under the covers but those were definitely woman shaped lumps under the covers. Claire screamed. And when she ran out of breath on that scream, she sucked in more air and screamed again.