by David Bone
“Wait! Hey, is there some party going on tonight?” he asked.
“Huh?”
“The booze! Someone got a party goin’ on?”
“Hmm, I don’t know.”
“Well, there’ll be one now!” he yelled and broke into some wild-ass air guitar.
I walked around to the side of Castle Liquor and watched the crusty bum approach cars with his cardboard. The weather was good so most people’s windows were down until the bum got close. I became less intimidated by him with each glass wall put up in his face. He took it in stride, but watching his hope rise and fall so often made me want to let him in on the food runner gig. That’d be weird though.
A green light made the bum retreat to the sidewalk where the sun beat down on him. He folded the cardboard over his head and shaded himself from the sun.
I flagged him over. The bum sprang to action faster than his appearance let on and he bolted across the street.
“Hey, hey, Joe, what’d ya know?” he said.
“How’s it going?”
“It’s going but it ain’t gone, know what I mean?”
“What’s up with that sign?”
The bum looked down to his cardboard.
“The middle, we’re in it!”
“Huh?”
“Most guys like me have that ‘end is near’ shit going. I can’t tell ya when that is—but until it happens, I can tell ya where the middle is!”
“Uh, hey, I’ll give you the change from this if you can get me a fifth of Jack.”
“At your service, milord,” the bum said as he took the money with a bow. “Back in a flash!”
He disappeared around the corner while I leaned against the cool cinderblocks on the shady side of Castle Liquor. Relieved my mission was headed for success, I slid my butt to the ground and waited. And waited . . .
After twenty minutes had gone by, I started to think both the bum and the whiskey weren’t coming back.
I’m fucked if I got scammed. Shit.
“Hey, hey!” The bum turned the corner waving a bottle in a tightly wrapped, brown paper bag. “Sorry I took so long. Since I was a ‘paying customer,’” he said with a wink, “guy let me use the shitter. And I was carrying a heavy load, ya know? The AC in the back is amazing from the beer refrigeration too. Look! I’ve still got goosebumps.” The sense of his true joy was tangible. It made me feel better about myself. This was working out.
“Anyways, here ya go.” The bum handed me the bottle.
Now for real, this was the first time I had something regarded as contraband in my actual, true possession.
“Thanks for the tip, kid. Anytime you need me, I’m around.”
I tucked the bottle under my shirt and walked back to the pier with a smile and the beginnings of a strut. I didn’t want to make any money on this, I just wanted to be in with Dracula.
When I got back, I saw Renaldo balancing four nacho orders and two slush puppies in his arms.
“You got it? Told you.”
“Yeah!” I said, flashing the bag.
“Better get your ass up there, man. He is pissed.”
I walked up the ramp where Dracula was talking up a demonic nun and a zombie girl.
“There you are, Jesus!” he snarled.
“Hey.” I thought this was going to go way better.
“You got the booze?”
“Yeah, here you go.”
Dracula took the brown wrapper off the bottle.
“Oh, what the fuck?! Ancient Age? This is the cheapest fucking whiskey there is. I told you Drac drinks the Jack.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“You want me to go blind? Where are the rubs?”
I pulled the condoms out of my pocket and hoped for a better reaction.
“Un-lubricated?!?! You stupid fuck, these are going to rip my pubes out!”
“Uh, sorry.”
“You’re a shitty nacho bitch. Where’s the change?”
“I don’t have it.”
“What? Don’t try that shit on me. There should be plenty since you bought the world’s crappiest everything.”
“I had to give it to a bum to get the whiskey.”
“Bullshit. Empty your pockets.”
I fell under Dracula’s command and pulled out the change I had made all afternoon.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, you liar.”
Renaldo had been watching from a picnic table over.
“Leave him alone, he got you the stuff. That’s his money from before.”
“Shut up, you beaner. I’ll get you banned from here so quick you’ll have to go pick strawberries.”
Renaldo fumed and held his anger in. It was true, Dracula had the most pull at the Castle.
“Come on, lighten up,” the zombie girl said.
“Fuck that.” And he snatched the money out of my hand.
I stood there as Dracula disappeared into the Castle.
“That sucked,” Renaldo said under his breath.
I turned around and faced a bunch of cast members watching behind me. The dudes turned their backs but a couple chicks took pity on me. The demonic nun and zombie girl came over. They were both hot as monsters but the demonic nun was totally incredible. I couldn’t imagine what was underneath the getup, but what was on top totally worked. Seeing her walk in my direction, actually toward me, was a new rush.
“Hey, don’t worry about it, he’s a dick anyways,” the zombie girl said. “He’s acting that way because you’re taller than him.”
“Yeah?” Thanks, Zombie Girl, but I really want to know what the demonic nun has to say.
“Why do you think he likes being on the mantel so much?”
“Oh.” Okay, Zombie Girl was cool.
“What’s your name?” the demonic nun said.
“Donovan.” Success! She speaks!
“You need a real job. I know the manager is looking to hire someone, want me to introduce you to him?”
“That’d be really cool.”
They went to get the manager. Renaldo got up and elbowed me.
“Dude, are you sure you want to give up what we’ve got going here?” he asked.
“Dude, yeah!”
Renaldo looked disappointed.
“Our own hours? Our own boss? Our own money?”
“What money?” I said, pulling my pockets out.
“Fuck, man.”
The Castle’s back door opened and a short, fat man in his forties came out smoking a cigar, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and corduroy shorts. The mostly unbuttoned shirt showed off his extensive bed of chest hair, so thick that his gold chain just floated on top of it.
“You the kid?”
“Uh, I dunno.” This was happening fast.
“You’re the fuckin’ kid. How old are you?”
“Six—”
The guy shook his head before I could finish.
“Sev—?”
He shook his head again.
“Eighteen?” I said.
“Ha, whatever. So you want a job here?”
“Yeah!”
“Four bucks an hour, under the table.”
I was confused.
“You get paid, you just don’t get a pay slip.”
“No problem.”
“Be here tomorrow, ten o’clock.”
“Thank you so much, this is like a dream come true.”
“What’s your name?”
“Donovan.”
“Donovan, welcome to my fuckin’ nightmare. I’m Jack Spires.”
He threw the cigar down and went back inside. The open door let out all kinds of screams coming from inside the Castle.
Renaldo got up from the table.
“Dude, so you’re just gonna ditch me now, huh?” he said.
“No way. But fuck, man. The Castle!”
“Alright, bro. I get it. But don’t get all weird on me when you’re a big shot. Or I’ll spit in your nachos.”
“I promise I won’t get w
eirder than I already am.”
“Okay, then we’ll make a plan to punch Dracula in the fucking face on Saturday.”
The next morning, I showed up an hour early to the Castle. The pier was empty and I used the time to walk around every inch of it, now that I would be “Donovan . . . from the Castle.” I went to the end of the pier and looked out at the ocean, the horizon, and breathed in the salty air. But it didn’t matter how picturesque it was. I turned my back to it and gazed down the pier toward the Castle. My heart beat with anticipation and intimidation.
Just before ten o’clock, as the steel gates rolled up on the arcade, food stands, and carnival games, I walked to the back door, eager to get inside the Castle. I joined the group of about forty people gathered by the back door. A community of individuals, all dressed in street clothes and without makeup yet, ranged in age from older teens and early twenties to a few in their thirties. They were all older, confident, relaxed, cooler—just more of everything I wanted to be. Most of the people looked far too normal to be concerned with the dark side. The Castle was their frat house. But a small group of the older ones did not hang around for the same reason. They were social rejects you’d cross the street to avoid. If they were prone to talking to themselves and threatening the skies while off the clock, they would certainly be an authentic fit for the Castle. No acting required. I was too nervous to talk to any of them and stared at the backs of their heads and sides of their faces.
I stopped scanning the group when I came to this one girl. She was uniquely perfect. Her incredible combination of bright blue eyes and a glowing round face pushed my heart into my throat. If I wasn’t so fascinated by her face, I would have noticed her hair first. It was feathered and dyed completely green, totally rare around Dunes. The green hair was an awesome invitation. It was like a flashing OPEN TO WEIRDOS LIKE YOU sign on her head. I must have stared too long because she noticed and turned toward me.
“Hey, you’re here!” she said, scaring the shit out of me.
It was a familiar voice, a scratchy coastal drawl that made you want to hear her talk about anything. I couldn’t remember ever talking to a chick that hot, minus that demonic nun from yesterday. Who I still wasn’t sure had even been real.
“Uh, hey?” I coughed up.
“It’s me!”
“Sorry?”
“From yesterday. The nun? I’m Melody.”
“Oh! Hey! I’m Donovan.”
I had never seen a girl look so beautiful as both a human and a member of the dark side. Good or evil, I’d take both.
“Did Jack get you a job?”
“Yeah! Fucking thanks!”
“Awesome. Well, hopefully we get to do a room together soon!”
A week ago, I couldn’t imagine working in the Castle or a hot chick talking to me without sneering, and now both are happening.
“Yeah, totally,” I said.
“You’re tall enough to be Executioner, maybe you’ll get to slay me!”
“I would totally slay you,” I said while trying to process what she meant by “slay” and that she even used the word “slay.”
Melody laughed at my vow.
Jack came out through the back door and banged his clipboard on the front table to get everyone’s attention.
“Anyways, good luck!” she said and joined her group of friends while I was still lost in over-excited thought. Every day before this one sucked . . .
Jack coughed and addressed the group.
“Alright, it’s gonna be the first real big one of the summer so I hope you’re all ready for the kingdom of madness. And I don’t mean in a cool way. Don’t take shit from anybody tonight.”
This sounded both awesome and profoundly inspirational.
“We’ve got RJ on Rat Room. Beth in Nightmare Tavern. Bobby in the Graveyard. Blake, you’re a roaming zombie. TJ, you are . . . Executioner . . . with Melody.”
Whoever TJ is, he sucks and is slaying the queen of my dreams.
One by one, everyone’s name was called as they went inside to apply their assigned makeup and costumes.
Jack looked up from his clipboard and saw only me left.
“Ah, yeah, new kid! Ready?”
“Yeah!”
“Come with me.”
We walked down the pier, away from the Castle. I had so many questions I wanted to ask.
“So is, like, that hearse yours?” was the best I could think of in the moment.
“Yeah, don’t hold it against me,” Jack said.
“What? No. It’s awesome.”
“Ha! Yeah, strip clubs make me park it a block away.”
I was confused. Was he taking such a sweet car for granted? But it wasn’t important. The real question was Why are we walking away from the Castle?
“Isn’t the Castle back there?” I said.
“Sure is!”
Jack didn’t really pay attention to me. He was busy saying “hey” to people who knew him on the pier. He called the girls “doll” and the guys he liked “mack.” I wanted to be a “mack” and not “the kid.” Jack pretended to be a tough asshole and maybe he was, but I sensed there was another side to him.
We came upon the food vendor section that I already knew so well. Behind the counter sat Tony, a devoted and miserable man, feeding the Castle Pizza carousel with pepperoni slices.
“Tony, this is . . .”
“We know each other from food runs,” I said as Tony nodded.
“Great. So he’s gonna work with you from now on.”
Now on?
“I could use it,” Tony said.
“He’d be perfect for the pizza guitar,” Jack said.
“Yeah.” Tony nodded.
Pizza guitar? My dream took a nosedive.
“Let’s move some ’za, boys!” Jack slapped me on the back and left.
Fuck. I wanted a job on the front of the Castle Dunes brochure, not on the back of it.
“No more running back and forth, huh? Welcome aboard,” Tony said.
I watched Jack disappear down the pier as I stood frozen, paralyzed from shock.
“Here ya go,” Tony said, handing me a heavy metal–styled cardboard guitar with promotional pizza graphics on it that read “Hot ’n Ready!”
I grabbed the cardboard guitar and looked at it as I took my first breath in a while. Was Renaldo right?
“What am I supposed to do with this?” I asked.
“Your job is to play this thing in front of here, and try to wrangle people over to buy a slice.”
I thought I said something to acknowledge the instructions but nothing came out.
“What’s that?” Tony asked.
“Okay, yeah. Yes.”
“Think you can handle it?” Tony raised an eyebrow.
“Totally.”
“At lunch I’ll give you a coke and two slices if you’re doing good.”
“Cool.”
“Alright then, get at it,” Tony said.
There wasn’t anyone even on the pier yet. Just me, the pizza guitar, and the rising temperature. I wanted to terrify people in the darkness, not get laughed at in the sun.
I began trying out a variety of grips on the guitar, looking for one that felt right. There were none. I stood there with my knees locked, mock strumming as I stared at my shoes. A couple walked by, not paying attention to me. I was horrified anyways and turned my back to them and stared at Tony.
“Kid, don’t sell me the fucking pizza. Sell them!”
“Okay.”
“And you also need to be yelling ‘Hot ’n Ready!’ in a heavy metal voice,” Tony said.
“Are you fucking with me?”
“Ya know, if you’re too shy for this, we can get someone else.”
“No, no. I got it.”
I walked out to the middle of the pier, strumming the guitar high up on my chest, and worked up the courage to say, “Hot ’n Ready,” at a decent volume.
No one paid attention to me. Thankfully, my pizza song fell
on deaf ears.
I turned my performance toward the Castle. So close, yet so . . . disappointing. But I guess as long as I was within a stone’s throw, it beat anything else. As I gazed at the Castle, I got caught up in my thoughts and stopped pizza rocking.
“Kid! Hot ’n Ready! Hot ’n Ready! Hot ’n fucking Ready!”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“I’ve got enough shit to worry about, alright?”
The pier had started to fill up and I let one rip, “Hoooot ‘nnnnnn Reaaaa-daaaay!” My voice cracked halfway through “ready” and made everyone within fifty feet laugh out loud. Families with their kids, bored teenagers, couples looking for something to do. Now my awkwardness was the attraction.
My cheeks filled with icy blood. I looked to Tony for help.
“Don’t look to me for a sign, kid. You’re holding it.”
I resumed wandering a small perimeter around Castle Pizza, trying my best to yell “Hot ’n Ready!” every thirty seconds with just a passable amount of panache. All while constantly strumming guitar like a man with two broken hands.
“D!”
It was Renaldo.
“Ha ha, shredding some cheese! You’re the new Hot ’n Ready guy, huh? That’s cool . . . I guess.”
“Kinda,” I said, trying to maintain my silent song.
Renaldo took a step back.
“Dude, don’t you watch music videos? That’s not how you play that shit!” he said.
Tony yelled from behind the counter, “Renaldo, show ‘em how it’s done and I’ll give you a slice.”
“I’ll show him but your pizza sucks, dude. Give me free refills all day and I’ll turn Donovan into a shredder.”
“Deal. And fuck you.”
“You play guitar?” I asked.
“Nah, but it’s not about that. Okay, first off, you’re playing that shit way too high. Only assholes do that. You gotta hold it down low. You want to be strumming your dick. That’s where the action is. Playing guitar is pure cocksmanship.”
I tried it out.
“Alright. But don’t hold your picking hand like that, take your thumb and index finger and put them together while you fan out the rest of the fingers.”
“I don’t get it,” I said.
“Like you’re making an “OK” sign but pinch your fingers together.”
I did what he said.
“Yeah, man. Alright, now the other hand. You can’t just stay in one spot like that on the neck. That would be the most boring fucking song you’d ever hear. You gotta go all over, man, that’s the shred.”