Claire clapped on. “You were irresponsible.”
Ollie clapped off. “You never changed the toilet paper roll.”
Claire clapped on. “You put the toilet paper on wrong. It goes over, not under.”
Ollie clapped off. “You worked all the time. Even took your phone or computer to bed.”
Claire clapped on. “Well, you read those stupid surfing magazines in bed.”
Ollie clapped off. “Skateboarding magazines.”
Claire clapped on. “Whatever.”
Ollie clapped off. “You never tried to share my interests.”
Claire clapped on. “You never shared mine either.”
Ollie clapped off. “You weren’t interested in anything except making money.”
Claire clapped on. “Somebody had to be interested in it. We’d starve to death if it was left up to you.”
Ollie clapped off. “We stopped having sex. Every time I made advances you had a headache.”
Claire clapped on. “I did have headaches. You gave them to me.”
Ollie clapped off. “Hot sex before marriage. After marriage you wouldn’t let me touch you.”
Claire clapped on. “Did it ever dawn on you that I wanted more than hot sex?”
Ollie clapped off. “Like what? What more is there?”
Claire clapped on. “Forget it. I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” She turned and walked away.
Ollie clapped off. “Goodnight.”
It was pitch black in the room. The sound of Claire’s heels hammered away toward the stairs. There was a loud bang. “Ouch! Son of a bitch!”
“You okay?” Ollie asked.
“No, I am not okay. I just fell into the thingie,” Claire whined.
“What thingie?”
“A whatchamacallit. Now I’m probably going to have another black eye.”
Ollie clapped her hands and the lights came on.
“What hit you this time?”
Claire held one hand over her right eye and pointed with the other hand. “That doohickey, that’s what hit me.”
“That’s called a newel post.”
“I don’t give a shit what it’s called. It shouldn’t be there. It’s dangerous.” She kicked it. Then grabbed her toe and hopped in a little circle, muttering, “Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch.”
“I suppose that was the post’s fault, too?” Ollie said.
Claire growled, “Goodnight,” and limped up the stairs. Overhead, Claire’s bedroom door slammed shut, causing the lights to go off, and plunging Ollie into darkness.
*
Claire threw herself on her bed, buried her face in her pillow and sobbed. She felt like her heart was breaking. Her wife hated her and her fiancé was mad at her. It was like everyone she touched ended up despising her.
Claire had a big case of the poor me’s going on, complete with tears and moans, when she felt Oscar cuddle up next to her. He whined until she opened her arms and accepted him into a hug. He licked the snot and tears off her face, which was disgusting, but it was a kindness on his part.
“Oh, Oscar,” she whispered. “You’re the only person in the world who understands me.
Oscar Speaks
Oscar sat on the bed looking at the camera. He tilted his head like the RCA dog looking at a phonograph for the first time. He whined then yipped once.
Dogs can’t speak human talk, but they can communicate in a myriad of other ways. If you were to watch Oscar’s tail, his nose, his posture, interpret his whines, growls and barks, you would find that Oscar can communicate as well if not better than any human.
The following is a transcript of what Oscar would say if he could speak human:
“I am Oscar. I am dog. My pack is Ollie, G-Ray, EZ and Claire. Ollie is food-giver. Ollie is ear-scratcher. Claire smells good. Claire’s butt smells good. Ollie loves Claire. Claire loves Ollie. Claire does not know she loves Ollie. G-Ray has man smell. G-Ray needs mate. Oscar loves Meyer. Oscar licks Claire’s face when she cries. Claire tastes salty.”
Oscar turned three times and lay down with his chin on his paws.
The camera turned off.
Pumpkin Or Pecan?
Two weeks had passed since the Clap On – Clap Off debacle. Ollie and Claire went about their business in an extremely civil manner. In fact, they were so civil that neither one spoke to the other. When they absolutely had to speak to each other, they used EZ or G-Ray as a go-between.
Ollie poured silk milk over organic granola and sat down at the kitchen table across from Claire. EZ sat in between them drinking her fortieth or fiftieth cup of coffee. EZ had been awake for three days and was trying like hell not to go back to sleep. The past thirty-six hours of no sleep were beginning to take their toll. She had black bags under her eyes and even her hair looked tired. She teetered on her chair like a drunken sailor.
“EZ,” Ollie said, “will you kindly remind Claire that we have an appointment today with Dr. Secaule, the marriage counselor?”
EZ’s gaze bobbed over to Claire. She slurred sleepily, “Ollie’s getting married to a sea cow.”
Claire helped herself to a bowl of granola and silk milk. “EZ, please tell Ollie that I will attend the counseling session because it is mandatory, but not to expect any miracles.”
EZ’s neck swiveled to Ollie, but before she could say anything, Ollie said, “EZ, tell Claire it would take more than a miracle to make me give a damn.”
At that moment, the neighbor lady came through the back door, tapping her cane. They’d gotten used to her coming in to feed the cats that no longer existed, so she barely registered a blip on their radar screen. Since there were no cats to be fed, Ollie had taken it upon herself to empty the cat bowl each day after the neighbor lady left. That way the lady would have an empty bowl to refill the next morning. Even Meyer’s prodigious appetite couldn’t keep up with the bowl filling.
Claire munched on her granola. Ollie crunched her granola. The neighbor lady poured kibble. Finally, Ollie said, “EZ, please inform Claire that I went grocery shopping. I have filled our cupboards with all the healthy food items she likes. For instance, the granola she is now eating. And the silk milk. I also bought dried fruit and rice cakes for snacks.”
Before EZ could speak, Claire said, “EZ, ask Ollie how much I owe her.”
“EZ, tell Claire the bill is on the fridge alongside an envelope. The total can be divided by four and placed into said envelope.”
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” muttered the neighbor lady.
Claire and Ollie looked at each other.
“Did she say something?” they both said at the same time.
The neighbor lady tapped her way out the back door. The door slammed behind her.
Claire continued her conversation with Ollie via EZ. “EZ, Thanksgiving is in two weeks. My fiancé, Scarlet, is coming up to visit over the holiday.”
Ollie inhaled a chunk of granola and went into a coughing fit. EZ slapped her on the back until she was able to breathe again. “Wrong tube,” Ollie said hoarsely.
“As I was saying, EZ,” Claire said, “Scarlet will be coming to visit and I would like everyone to be on their best behavior.”
Ollie set the last half of her granola on the floor. Oscar and Meyer happily ate from the same bowl, making loud slurping noises.
“And by best behavior I mean I would prefer the animals not be fed people food straight from the table,” Claire said.
Ollie harrumphed and crossed her arms over her chest. “EZ, tell Claire if she has a bone to pick with me to do it to my face.”
Claire addressed EZ again, “Speaking of bones, I was trying to decide what we would have for Thanksgiving dinner. Ham or turkey? What do you think?”
“Turkey,” Ollie said.
“Ham it is,” Claire said, rising. She walked to the sink and rinsed out her cereal bowl. Unseen by Claire, EZ pushed back her chair and left the room.
With her back to the table, Claire asked, “What about dessert, EZ? Pumpkin
pie or pecan pie?”
Ollie said, “Pecan pie.”
“Pumpkin it is,” Claire said.
Ollie jumped up from her chair and said, “Aha! I tricked you. I really wanted pumpkin pie! I knew what you were going to say.”
When Claire turned around, she saw that EZ wasn’t in the room. She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled through the doorway, “EZ! Tell Ollie I knew that she knew and I knew that she would say pecan when she really wanted pumpkin and that’s why we’re having apple pie.” Claire looked over her shoulder at Ollie, and raised one eyebrow in a ‘so there’ expression.
Ollie squinted. “Evil. Pure, diabolical evil,” she muttered.
“Oh, and I knew you wanted ham so we’re having turkey.” Claire flounced out of the room.
Sea Cow
Dr. Secaule was a big German woman. She was six feet tall and almost as wide. She was wearing a Nazi officer’s uniform, complete with shiny black knee-high boots and cap. She held a riding crop in one hand and a cigarette in a long holder in the other. Her right eye appeared to be twice as big as her left eye, but that was probably due to the magnifying effect of the monocle she wore.
Dr. Secaule sat at a big wooden desk. Ollie and Claire sat in matching wingback chairs on the other side of the desk. Dr. Secaule stared at Ollie and Claire with her big magnified eye. Ollie had the distinct impression that the doctor was calculating their measurements. Maybe she was planning on making a lampshade out of their skin, or an ashtray out of their skulls.
Ollie kept waiting for Alan Funt to jump out of the closet and yell, “Smile, you’re on Candid Camera!” That was the only explanation Ollie could come up with for being in the same room as a woman dressed in a Nazi uniform. Unless, she had accidentally found a wormhole in time and been transported back to WWII. Or maybe it was Halloween and she didn’t know it.
Claire scooched back and forth in the chair. Ollie knew what Claire was doing. She was scratching her itchy butt…again.
Dr. Secaule blew out a long stream of smoke, cleared her throat and began to talk in a thick, clipped German accent reminiscent of Dr. Ruth, “Zee judge sends me bwoken couples.” The doctor mimed snapping a twig in half. “I fix.” She mimed sticking the twig back together.
Ollie giggled nervously. Claire glared at her.
Ollie smiled at the doctor like how one smiles at a ferocious attack dog. “Dr. Sea Cow, might I ask a question?”
“Secaule,” the doctor said.
“Sea cow, that’s what I said.”
“Se…caule,” the doctor slowly pronounced. She wrapped one hand in a loose fist around the riding crop and stroked it in a slow up and down motion. “Seeeee. Cauuuule,” the doctor said again, grinning lasciviously.
Ollie tried her best not to look at the whip stroking. She said slowly, “Seeeeaaaa Cooooowwwww. Dr. Sea Cow, I want to know…”
Abruptly, the doctor stood and cracked her riding crop on the top of the table, shouting, “Secaule! You are thick numbskool! It is Secaule!” She cracked the whip again.
Ollie and Claire recoiled, sliding halfway down in their seats. “Okay, okay, okay,” Ollie whimpered with her hands in front of her face. “Please don’t hurt us.”
Dr. Secaule clicked her boot heels together, sat back down and took a heavy drag off her cigarette. She blew the stream of smoke out both nostrils.
Claire cleared her throat. “Are you a kickboxer? I see your trophies.” She gestured to a glass case that contained upwards of a hundred trophies. “That’s wonderful. I love kickboxing.”
“Since when?” Ollie asked.
Under the table, where the doctor couldn’t see, Claire kicked Ollie in the shin. “Ow!” Ollie exclaimed.
Dr. Secaule leaned her big bulk across the table and peered deep into Ollie’s eyes. “You are here because you vant a diworce.” She tapped Ollie on the shoulder with the tip of her riding crop. “Cowwect?”
Ollie gave a tiny, fearful nod. “Correct.”
“You are here because zee judge commanded you to be here.” She poked Ollie in the chest with the riding crop. “Cowwect?”
“Correct.”
Dr. Secaule waved the tip of the crop in Ollie’s face as she said, “I do not enjoy offering counseling to people who do not vant my counseling. So, you vill not appwoach counseling as such.” She tapped Ollie on the nose with the crop. “Cowwect?”
“Correct,” Ollie said.
Dr. Secaule switched her unblinking gaze to Claire and poked her in the nipple with the tip of the crop. “Cowwect?”
“Cowwect,” Claire said. Ollie kicked her under the table. “I mean, correct,” Claire said quickly.
Dr. Secaule sat back in her chair and eyed them, waving the riding crop slowly back and forth between them like it was a sword. Ollie covered her nose with her hand. Claire covered her nipples with her hands.
“I must haf your complete dewotion to zee tasks I gif you,” Dr. Secaule intoned. She stood and paced. “You must do zee task wholeheartedly and vif enthusiasm.” She cracked the whip on the floor – Crack! “After you haf successfully completed zee task, I vill sign your leettle shit of paper and you vill be fwee to diworce,” again she made the breaking a twig motion, “or not,” she made the sticking back together motion. “Are you clear?”
Ollie and Claire bobbed their heads in unison.
Dr. Secaule bent at the waist until she was on their eye level. She spoke with her cigarette holder clenched between her teeth. “Your first task is to pwoduce a shit of paper and on this shit of paper, I vant you to write everyzing you like about the other person.”
“Everything?” Claire asked.
“Everyzing!” the doctor shouted. “Everyzing!”
Ollie and Claire recoiled.
“Are you clear?” Dr. Secaule intoned. Her giant right eye glared at them behind the monocle.
Ollie and Claire nodded.
“Goot,” Dr. Secaule said. “Come back next week with shit of paper.” When neither Ollie nor Claire moved, the doctor cracked her riding crop on top of the table, shouting, “Shoo, Scram Scat!”
Ollie and Claire tumbled over each other in their mad race to the door.
Zombie Lab
G-Ray and EZ were waiting in the lobby. G-Ray was wearing what was quickly becoming his Iowa uniform – longjohns under shorts and a T-shirt with a plaid leisure-suit jacket. He also had his helmet cam on. EZ was dressed Flashdance style – shorts, leg warmers, and a sweatshirt with the neck cut out. EZ still hadn’t slept. She was starting to look like the walking dead.
Ollie and Claire rushed out of the elevator like it was on fire. They ran through the lobby, past G-Ray and EZ, and didn’t stop until they reached the street. G-Ray and EZ followed them out the double doors of the building. They had to run to catch up.
“Doods!” G-Ray exclaimed. “What’s the 911?”
“What’s a 911?” EZ asked. Everyone ignored her.
Ollie and Claire continued moving at a pretty good clip down the sidewalk intent on putting as much distance between themselves and the doctor as possible.
“Where’s the van?” Claire panted, jogging backwards.
G-Ray pointed in the direction they were headed. “That way. Why are we hurrying?”
“You won’t believe this,” Ollie said, “but Dr. Sea Cow is a Nazi dominatrix and she almost whipped us to death.”
G-Ray and EZ laughed.
“No, seriously,” Claire said. “She had this Elmer Fudd accent and everyzing.”
“And a monocle,” Ollie added.
“And big black boots,” Claire said.
“And a whip! She’s bat-shit crazy,” Ollie said.
G-Ray and EZ exchanged a look between them that said maybe it was Ollie and Claire who were the bat-shit crazy ones.
“So you’re not going back?” EZ asked.
“Oh, we’re going back,” Claire said, trying to catch her breath. “We’re definitely going back.”
“We are?” Ollie asked.
/> “Of course we are.” Claire slowed to a walk. “We’re going to do our assignments and then we’re going to get divorced,” Claire said. She rubbed her temples, saying, “I have a monstrous headache. Does anybody have any chocolate on them?”
“I have a melted Jolly Rancher in my pocket. You can have that if you want,” EZ offered.
“No, thanks,” Claire said. She opened her purse and dug around until she came out with two little blue pills. She tossed them into her mouth and dry-swallowed.
“What were those pills?” Ollie asked, alarmed.
“None of your business,” Claire answered.
“They looked like Ex-Lax,” Ollie said. “Do you have a problem pooping? Is that why you’re cranky?”
Claire wheeled on her. “No, I do not have a problem pooping! And even if I did, I wouldn’t announce my pooping problem on the streets of Des Moines for everybody to hear! They were only Advil, okay?” She turned back around and marched down the sidewalk.
“Wow,” G-Ray muttered. He sidled up to Ollie. “Aire-Clay eems-say a ittle-lay it-bay ostile-hay.”
Claire turned back around. “I can speak Pig Latin, G-Ray. I may be a little hostile, but I’m not stupid.”
“Look!” EZ said, grabbing Ollie by the arm. “It’s a restaurant for Zombies.”
Sure enough, they were walking right by The Zombie Burger and Drink Lab Restaurant. “Let’s get something to eat,” Ollie said. “My morning granola has worn off already.”
Claire looked through the plate glass window of the restaurant. She saw Elvis walk by. He looked at her and smiled. She smiled back. He turned and walked away.
Claire exhaled a long shaky breath. She smiled at the rest of her group and said, “A milkshake does sound good.” She strode through the front doors of the Zombie Restaurant.
“Wow, man,” G-Ray said. “Her emotions are all over the place. It must be her time of
the…”
Before he could finish the sentence, both Ollie and EZ punched him in the arm.
Please Wait To Be Eated
Crazy Little Thing Page 14