Crazy Little Thing

by Layce Gardner

  Ollie turned to the door and yelled, “G-Ray, call 911! And tell them to bring the jaws of life!”

  Pumpkin

  Ollie stood beside Claire, looking through the window at the fire truck parked in front of their house. The firemen were upstairs trying to un-wedge Scarlet. Claire was crying.

  And she wasn’t crying about Scarlet either.

  She was crying about her car.

  The noon sun had melted some of the snow off the car and for the first time, Claire saw it. It wasn’t the midnight blue color that she loved. It was now orange.

  Fucking orange.

  Scarlet had re-painted her car orange. Who in their right mind wanted an orange car? It totally devalued her precious car. Now her car looked like it was in a parade or a circus or an advertisement for Florida orange juice. What the hell had Scarlet done?

  “It’s okay,” Ollie soothed and patted Claire’s shoulder. “Scarlet will be out soon.”

  “I don’t give a hoot about Scarlet. Look at my car. She painted my car,” Claire sobbed, burying her face in Ollie’s shoulder. “It looks like Cinderella’s pumpkin coach.”

  Ollie gently patted Claire’s back. “Look at the bright side,” she said. “It’s very Thanksgiving-y.”

  Claire wiped her nose on her sleeve and gazed at Ollie. “Thanksgiving-y?”

  Ollie smiled. “Yeah, you know… sweet potatoes. Pumpkin pie. Fall leaves.”

  Claire smiled the tiniest bit. “You’re so sweet, you know that?”

  Ollie shrugged away the compliment. She wasn’t so sweet. In fact, she was having lusty thoughts at this very moment. Did sweet count if you had the ulterior motive of getting in somebody’s pants? Ollie didn’t think so.

  “What’re you thinking right now?” Claire asked.

  “I’m thinking…” Ollie said, trying to think of something, “that Scarlet doesn’t deserve you.”

  Which was, in fact, a really sweet thing to say, and it might have melted Claire’s heart and brought her back into Ollie’s arms, except for one thing. As Ollie was saying it, a fireman clomped down the stairs. It was this clomping that drowned out what Ollie had said. The fireman’s voice boomed across the room, “Say, you don’t have a giant can opener, do you?”

  Ollie and Claire stared wide-eyed at the Fireman. He laughed a big baritone laugh and said, “Just kidding. But if you have a shoehorn that’s about five feet long we might be able to wedge her out of there before she expires from lack of oxygen. You got anything like that?”

  Ollie looked over at her surfboard, which was standing upright in the corner of the room. Boy, oh boy, Scarlet was going to owe her big time.

  Claire’s Revenge

  The three firemen used Ollie’s surfboard as a shoehorn and pried the bed away from the wall. Scarlet wasn’t horribly hurt—her ankle was bruised and swollen but it wasn’t broken. Her large, inflated breasts had acted as airbags and cushioned the blow of the bed and kept her foot from being crushed. The firemen were delighted by Scarlet’s almost naked appearance.

  Once the room was empty Claire stared at Scarlet with her fists on her hips. She wasn’t happy.

  Scarlet said, “Why the pouty face? You look like you were the one who just had the near death experience – not to mention look at my ankle. My Jimmy Choos are not going to fit anytime soon.”

  Claire didn’t give a shit about Scarlet’s ankle. “What did you do to my car?”

  “Your car? I’m standing here exhausted, smooshed, and rumpled and you want to talk about your car?”

  “I don’t care if you’re rumpled. Fuck rumpled. You painted my car.”

  Scarlet lifted her chin in the air and pointed her nipples in Claire’s direction. “Yes, I did. And you haven’t even said thank you.”

  “Thank you? Why the hell would I thank you for painting my car orange?”

  “It’s not orange. It’s called Pumpkin Spice and it’s all the rage right now,” Scarlet said.

  “They had to paint it anyway because of all the damage to the side. The color never would’ve matched. I told them to change the color. Pumpkin Spice is the latest car color. I figured by changing the color it was like updating the car only less expensively. Your Beemer has low miles. Why not stay current without the added cost? It was a good financial decision.”

  Claire closed her eyes, clenched her fists and took three deep breaths. She silently counted to ten and while she was counting, she plotted her revenge. When she opened her eyes, she forced a smile at Scarlet. “How can I ever thank you?” she said sweetly.

  Scarlet dropped her panties around her ankles and said, “I know how.”

  Claire smiled bigger. And this time the smile was genuine. “It’s like you were reading my mind.”

  “Mmmhmm,” Scarlet cooed. “I’m ready for you, baby. I want you to do it to me like only you know how to do.”

  “Oh yes,” Claire said, moving in to her. “I’ll do it to you. I’ll do it to you right now. Put on your sleep mask so you senses will be heightened.”

  Scarlet giggled, picked up her mask and pulled it down over her eyes.

  Claire backed Scarlet up to the bed. She pushed Scarlet. Scarlet fell back across the bed, spread-eagled and horny.

  “Oh my,” Scarlet breathed. “You’re so forceful. I love this new you.”

  Claire backed up two steps.

  “What’re you doing?” Scarlet said. “Where are you going?”

  Claire grabbed the end of the bed and using every ounce of strength she had, she pushed the bed upwards. It squeaked! And sandwiched itself into the wall with Scarlet stuck in the middle.

  “Helpth! Helpth!” Scarlet yelled.

  “Whoopsy daisy,” Claire said with a snigger. “My bad.”

  Claire Feels Guilty

  Claire didn’t immediately tell anyone about Scarlet being stuck in the bed again. She waited for two hours before she told anyone. During that time she had a nap on the couch, brewed a pot of tea, and looked up car paint shops in Des Moines. Only then did she begin to feel a small twinge in her chest. At first she thought it was heartburn. It took her a few minutes to realize it was guilt. She dialed 911.

  The firemen were delighted to rescue Scarlet again.

  This time they brought their cell phones and videotaped the proceedings.

  The Morning After

  Scarlet wasn’t talking to Claire. Claire wasn’t talking to Scarlet. Ollie was both amused and happy about this turn of events. The next morning, Ollie found Scarlet asleep on the couch with Meyer curled up in her nest of hair. Scarlet had a tiny bit of drool leaking out of her opened mouth and her nose whistled with each exhale. Knowing that Scarlet was an ugly sleeper gave Ollie even more satisfaction.

  Ollie plucked Meyer off Scarlet’s head not for her sake but for Meyer’s safety. Knowing Scarlet, she would pitch Meyer across the room when she woke. Ollie put Meyer on Oscar’s back, his usual riding place.

  Ollie did her morning routine: brewing coffee, feeding Oscar and Meyer, letting Oscar outside to do his business and leaving the door unlocked so the blind and deaf lady could feed the invisible cats.

  Claire joined her in the kitchen as soon as the coffee maker beeped that the brew cycle was complete.

  “Right on time. Did you sleep?” Ollie asked, pouring them both a cup of coffee.

  “Yup,” Claire said. She yawned and stretched her arms over head. Ollie tried not to notice her bared midriff. She failed, of course.

  “Me too,” Ollie said. “Like a baby.” She handed a cup to Claire and sat at the kitchen table. “Which doesn’t make any sense at all, if you think about it. Babies are notorious for not sleeping, right? So why would anyone want to sleep like one?”

  Claire sat across from Ollie and blew on her coffee. “I don’t know. Except Scarlet actually is sleeping like a baby. All drooly and stuff.”

  Ollie laughed. Secretly she was delighted that the shine was wearing off Scarlet.

  There was an amiable silence as they sipped their coff
ee. This is the way it could be, Ollie thought. They could be eighty years old and doing this same thing for the past forty years and she would be completely happy. But would Claire be happy with such simplicity? She didn’t know.

  Scarlet’s loud snore emanated from the living room, breaking the silence.

  Ollie and Claire giggled. “Maybe that’s part of your sleeping problem,” Ollie said.

  “I sleep in our guest room a lot. She doesn’t know that, but I can’t sleep with all that racket.”

  “Is that the reason she’s on the couch?”

  “One of them,” Claire said.

  “I can sleep with G-Ray and you can have my bed tonight so Scarlet doesn’t have to sleep on the couch.” Ollie didn’t make the offer out of any sort of compassion. Her real motive was that she wanted Claire to think of her as… what was the word? Magnanimous.

  “I might need to even if I do forgive her. Her snoring will seem like a sonic boom in that small bedroom.”

  “Are you going to forgive her?” Ollie asked, trying to keep the hope out of her voice.

  “After she fixes my car, maybe.”

  “You’re still pissed,” Ollie said.

  “Wouldn’t you be? I mean, come on, repaint someone’s car without their permission? It’s criminal,” Claire said.

  Ollie glanced over Claire’s shoulder. Scarlet was standing in the doorway. She looked abashed and Ollie felt sorry for her. Or maybe it was just the dried drool on her chin that gave her that pitiable urchin look. Urchins and three-legged dogs had always stirred compassion in Ollie. She squinted her eyes, trying to harden her resolve.

  Claire twisted in her chair and looked at Scarlet. She quickly turned back around, giving Scarlet the cold shoulder, figuratively and literally.

  Scarlet looked at Claire’s back with big, sad, puppy dog eyes and said, “I’m so sorry and you’re right, Claire. I was out of line. I will pay to repaint your car back to its original color.”

  “You’re apologizing?” Claire said like she couldn’t believe her ears.

  Ollie thought that was ironic. Once upon a time she had thought the same thing about Claire. Claire had never been much for apologizing either. Maybe Scarlet was Claire’s just desserts. Sometimes it was nice seeing your ex get what she had given to you – karma reciprocity.

  “Yes,” Scarlet said. “I am officially apologizing.”

  “Coffee?” Ollie said, turning her back to them. She really didn’t want to witness the make-up scene.

  “Please. And Ollie, I want to thank you for rescuing me. And if there’s any damage to your surfboard, let me know.”

  “You can write me a blank check,” Ollie said, then immediately regretted her callousness. “I’m kidding.”

  Scarlet seemed relieved.

  “Sugar, cream?” Ollie asked.

  “No, just black.”

  Scarlet looked like a woman who took her coffee black. She was a ‘let’s start our day with a bitter, black liquid’ kind of person. Ollie took hope in the fact that Scarlet wasn’t the little Miss Perfect she made herself out to be. After all, Scarlet hadn’t got laid. She’d committed a major transgression and she had icky slobber dried on her chin. The score was Ollie, 1 for the rescue of the damsel in distress, and Scarlet, minus 3.

  Scarlet took two deep swallows of her coffee as if she were fortifying herself. “So do we have all the necessary stuff for the big dinner or do we need to go shopping?”

  “No, we’ve pretty much got it under control,” Ollie said. “We knew it was coming and we’re prepared.”

  Scarlet ignored Ollie and sat at the table next to Claire. “I’ll take a look at the provisions and if we need anything we’ll send Ollie out to the grocery store. I’ll go take a shower and then we can get started,” Scarlet said. She downed her coffee in one long swallow and strode out the door.

  Ollie sat back down. “She’s gonna take over.”

  “She already did,” Claire said.

  Everything’s Coming Up Begonias

  “What do we need cumin for?” Ollie said. “I’ve lived my whole life without cumin. Why do I need it today of all days?”

  “Dood, I think Scarlet just wanted to get rid of us,” G-Ray said.

  They had been sent to the worst place on the planet to be on Thanksgiving. Scratch that, it was the second worse place. The airport was the first level of hell, and Walmart was the second. It was one of the only grocery stores in Des Moines that was open on the third Thursday of the month of November.

  “What does cumin do? What is cumin? Why cumin? And is it pronounced come in or cue men?” Ollie muttered. She wandered down the aisle looking from side to side trying to find a bag, a carton, a jar of this cumin stuff. She could’ve asked what cumin was before leaving the house but she didn’t want to give Scarlet the opportunity to make her look stupid and uncultured. She also didn’t want somebody to bite into a turkey leg and say thoughtfully, “This tastes pretty good. The only thing that would make it better would be a dash of cumin.”

  She glanced around to discover she’d lost G-Ray. “Double crap,” Ollie said. She wandered over to the next aisle, which contained pickles and olives. Which reminded her they didn’t have a relish tray. She’d get a jar of sweet gherkins, kosher dills and Kalamata olives. This got her thinking. Kosher dill pickles were easy – they were cucumbers blessed by a Rabbi but what were gherkins exactly? A type of pickle or a pickle processing kind of thing? And then there was the Kalamata olives. Did Kalamata mean the region the olive came from or the olive itself? This was why she didn’t enjoy grocery shopping. She ended up having an existential crisis in the pickle aisle.

  G-Ray came around the corner holding a small jar in his hand. He held it out to Ollie. He looked as proud as a big game hunter on a safari who bagged the last white rhino. “Dood, I totally found it. I mean we totally found it.”

  A woman stepped around G-Ray and smiled shyly at Ollie. She did one of those tickle the air things with her fingertips that was supposed to be a hello. The woman was a mash-up of different styles and colors. She had pink, purple, and green striped hair, smelled of lavender, wore a tie-dyed dress, and Birkenstocks. She completed this picture with a faux fur stole and black silk top hat. A daisy was stuck in the band of the top hat. Standing next to G-Ray in his red vinyl pants, purple and black flannel shirt and blue puffy down vest, well… they were obviously meant for each other.

  “This is Begonia,” G-Ray said. “She showed me where it was. Turns out that cumin’s a spice. And guess what? She was here looking for cumin, too. Serendipity, right?” G-Ray handed Ollie the jar.

  “Kismet,” Ollie agreed, catching the scent of new love blooming. “Perhaps Begonia could stop by the house for the relish tray I’m creating.”

  “That would be groovy,” Begonia said. Ollie noted that she said the word groovy without a single trace of irony.

  “Right on!” G-Ray exclaimed. “That was so what I was thinking. She just rolled into town from Denver. She’s staying with her friend but her friend is out of town for the weekend. Begonia is at loose ends.”

  “Then she must stay for dinner,” Ollie said. G-Ray smiled at her like she’d just told him he’d won the lottery.

  “Begonia, would you care to have Thanksgiving dinner with us?” G-Ray said in a very formal tone.

  Begonia smiled, touched his face lightly with one finger and said, “Yes, that would be lovely.”

  Ollie thought the touching of his face was a little weird, but maybe it was a cultural thing. After all, Eskimos rubbed noses and high society women air-kissed.

  They took the cumin, the jars of pickles and olives to the front of the store. It was complete and utter madness. There were people everywhere, carts, stressed cashiers, and general bedlam. This was why Scarlet had sent them to Walmart. So they’d miss Thanksgiving and she’d have the whole day alone with Claire… and EZ, but she didn’t count since she was still asleep when they left. Not only that but Scarlet had forced them to take Claire’s
car. She was probably thinking out of sight, out of mind.

  While Ollie stood in line cultivating revenge fantasies involving Scarlet, Begonia selflessly helped an elderly lady unload her cart. G-Ray even got in on the Good Samaritan action by pushing the lady’s cart out the door.

  By the time Ollie paid and got to the parking lot, Begonia and the lady were chatting like old friends. Ollie got to them just in time to hear the lady nod at G-Ray and ask Begonia, “Is that your young man?”

  Begonia blushed pink and whispered, “I hope so.”

  They said their goodbyes and watched as the lady pulled out of the lot, waving merrily. They walked toward their car.

  “So what do you do? You know, for a living?” Ollie asked. She usually hated when people asked that question. It was like saying that a person’s job was the person. But in this instance, she really had to know what Begonia did. Who she was? She seemed far too good to be true.

  “I’m a Guardian Angel,” Begonia said.

  “Uh huh,” Ollie said with a good-natured laugh. “And I’m Joan of Arc reincarnated.”

  Begonia laughed. “Guardian Angels is an international society. Our purpose on earth is to render aid and comfort to those in need. I came to Des Moines to do volunteer work at the hospital.”

  “Oh,” Ollie said. She was impressed. “What kind of work?”

  “I rock babies.”

  “Seriously?”

  Begonia nodded. “When a baby has an operation, it’s nice to wake up in somebody’s loving arms rather than in a cold, sterile bed. You know?”

  “Yeah,” Ollie said. She knew firsthand the difference between loving arms and a cold bed.

  “Would you like me to detoxify your feet with your leftover cumin?” Begonia asked. “I’m noticing that you have some negative energy trapped around your heart chakra.”

  “Sure,” Ollie said. That cemented it. The girl was weird. Weird and interesting and pretty and sweet and just right for G-Ray.