“No,” she giggled. “Aunt Moon-Unit has her house under lockdown. She says she’s close to eradicating some kind of fucking chi. No one’s allowed in and she hasn’t come out.”
“Does she have food?”
“Yeah, I left a couple of bags of groceries on her front porch this morning and her neighbor ripped me a new one.”
God, I missed my best friend. “Why’d the neighbor go after you?”
“Because for some unknown reason, Aunt Moon-Unit spread saltpeter all over her yard.”
“Oh hell, that was Edith and Mrs. C’s idea, so the chi would stop having sex and multiplying.”
“Oookay, that somehow doesn’t surprise me,” she chuckled. “I have no idea if the chi have stopped playing hide the salami. I was unaware that chi could even get it on, but apparently the neighbor’s registered stud bulldog can’t get his pink lipstick up.”
“That’s both disgusting and hilarious,” I said, pointing my toes up at the mustard ceiling.
“The unhilarious part is that the beeotch neighbor, Mrs. Bloomhouse, is going to sue Moon-Unit for causing canine erectile dysfunction.”
“Get out of town.” I sat up, realizing the old lesbos could wreak havoc even from hundreds of miles away. “Is Moon-Unit upset?”
“Hell no,” Rena said. “She thinks it’s payback.”
“Payback?”
“Yep,” she snorted, trying not to laugh. “As the story goes, the late and great Uncle Fucker boinked Mrs. Bloomhouse on a semiregular basis, so Moon-Unit feels vindicated. Plus, that dog shits all over Moon-Unit’s hostas.”
“That’s wrong on all levels.” I readjusted myself on the bed so I couldn’t see myself in the cracked mirror over the vanity as I posed my next question. I knew my face was red. I felt the heat crawling up my neck. “Um, Rena, I was wondering if you had, um . . .”
“No,” she said matter-of-factly. “He left the same day you did.”
My stomach dropped and my throat went dry. I squeezed my eyes shut tight and tried to keep the tears from rolling down my cheeks. I couldn’t believe he was gone. “He left?” I whispered. “For good?”
“I don’t know,” she said softly. If she were here I knew she’d hold me in a bear hug and play with my hair. “I told Jack I would withhold sex if he mentioned Mitch’s name, but I can find out if he knows anything—if you want me to.”
“Um, no . . . it’s better this way. I think.”
“Okay, but if you change your mind . . .” she said.
“I did,” I told her.
“You did what?” she asked, confused.
“I changed my mind. Ask Jack what he knows.”
“Do you want to see him again?”
“I have no idea,” I said honestly. “I just want to know if he’s coming back.”
“I’ll ask,” she said. “Jack might not know anything, but whatever I find out, I’ll tell you.”
“I love you, Rena.”
“I love you too, Kristy.”
I hung up and curled into a ball on the bed. I didn’t care that I was still fully dressed. I tried to sleep, but it eluded me . . . Images of Mitch’s beautiful face were burned into my mind . . . his laugh, how sweet and smart he was, his butt . . . Shitclowns, I needed to push him into a closet in my mind and lock it. He was gone and probably never coming back. No matter how much I wanted him to. I closed my eyes again and focused on my team, the sweet and semisweet bunch of misfits that we were. I wondered what tomorrow would bring. It simply couldn’t be any more weird and unsettling than today . . . I hoped.
Chapter 21
“He found that wearing clothes made him slightly less frightening to humans, if he kept his distance. The main problem with this strategy was that the sheer amount of hair all over his body made the clothing very itchy. Not to mention, it was damn near impossible to find a pair of pants large enough to house his massive pork sword.
“His fearless leader had given him a pair of crotchless pants to alleviate the pain of having to encase his jewels in suffocating denim, but it kind of defeated the purpose of disguising himself enough to fit into polite society. His isolation was tearing him apart. His true dream was to be a rock star, but even though he could sing like an angel, his exterior was too horrific.
“He cried out to the heavens. ‘Why? Why am I such a hairy bastard with such a commodious skin flute?’ He received no answer. Why had Zeus forsaken him? Or was it Buddha? Or maybe Bryant Gumbel . . .
“He had never seen another of his kind; maybe he was the only one. What kind of cosmic clusterfuck was that? His anger caused him to hatch a plan . . . If the humans didn’t want to date him, he would screw with them . . .”
“Oh my God,” Heidi Kugelschmooson gasped, interrupting Boo’s recitation. “What kind of revolting bestiality porno is that?”
Heidi had voiced the question that had been in my mind for days, but all it did was piss me off. I could say or think anything about my team I wanted . . . because I cared about them and they were mine. Heidi, on the other hand . . .
“It’s the bible. The Bigfoot bible,” I snapped. I paused for a second and had a weird déjà vu moment. WTF? Whatever. Seven in the morning was too early to get into a fight with Plastic Barbie, but she left me no choice. “It’s written in code,” I explained as if she were two years old. “You have to interpret the, um, foul and pornographic text in order to get to the true roots of the Bigfoot myth.”
“Really,” she said skeptically.
“Really,” I shot back, hoping the conversation was over. Kim had picked up coffee and doughnuts before we congregated in the parking lot, so I quickly shoved a glazed one into my mouth to signify the end of the conversation.
“So, what in the hell did that repulsive passage mean?” Heidi asked, not one to give up easily. Assclowns, I could just imagine the article she would write later.
“It means that Bigfoot is a tragic and lonely beast. There is solid proof in that particular passage that there may be just one Bigfoot in existence. His intelligence level is on a par with or higher than humans’ and clearly he’s been gifted in the genital area,” Boo told Heidi without flinching.
“He also enjoys humping trees and large furniture,” Hugh added.
“Which is why we will be searching trees for pubic hair today,” Mariah told Heidi. “We understand that you will be taking pictures and gathering information for your article, but if you want to come you will have to comb the woods for pubes also.”
Heidi Kugelschmooson was shocked or possibly revolted into silence. I’m sure that was a first for her. We all enjoyed her traumatized expression, especially Rich. I guess he’d noticed how disgusted she was by his unusual appearance. Payback is a bitch.
“Where’s Stuey?” she choked out, clearly wanting to escape our company.
“He and Stan will be out right before we leave, dear,” Kim said, trying to be kind and make Heidi feel welcome. “Here, have a doughnut. Will you and your bald friends be riding in the van with us? I’m sure we could make room.”
“No,” she answered, declining the ride, but taking the doughnut. “We’ll take our own car and follow. I’m not sure we can stay the entire time.”
“Well, that’s too bad.” Kim smiled sweetly. “We really have a wonderful time together and you look like you could use some fresh air and good company.”
“Or a breast reduction, bless your heart,” Edith muttered.
Heidi whipped around on the old lesbo so quickly, I was surprised her wig didn’t fly off. She took three steps toward Edith, completely invading her space. “What did you say?” Her eyes narrowed and Edith shrank back.
“We’re on a quest of, um . . . deduction, bless your, um, heart,” Edith said, her eyes wide with fear.
“Hmmm.” Heidi tapped the toe of her high heel in the dusty gravel of the parking lot. She was dressed totally inappropriately for a hike through the woods, but I’m sure tight dresses and stilettos were the only items of clothing she owned. She e
yed the trembling old woman for a moment. “It sounded like you made a comment about my chest,” she said way too quietly.
“Oh, ah . . . nope,” Edith said, laughing nervously at the obvious misunderstanding. “I never even noticed your huge hooters,” she said, backing away.
“Good,” Heidi snapped. “Let’s keep it that way.”
“Of course,” Edith agreed meekly.
How in the hell did she do that? They’d been up my backside for a week about my boobs and no matter what I said, they kept it up. I suppose I didn’t have that natural command Heidi did. People seemed to do what she wanted them to. She kind of reminded me of...
“Are you ready?” Stuey shouted, running around the corner of the building and scaring the hell out of all of us. “Hop into the van and let’s get a move on!”
As we piled in, I noticed Heidi having a private chat with Stuey. She grabbed him by the collar of his starched polo and laid a big wet one on his gross little mouth. Stuey walked a very happy and unsteady line back to his sedan.
“I got a call from Moon-Unit last night,” Kim said once we were safely in the van and out of earshot of Stan, Stuey, and Heidi.
“What did the crazy old coot have to say?” Mrs. C asked.
“Pot. Kettle. Black,” Mariah mumbled.
“She said that Bigfoot is in the area, but they’ve been sending us in the wrong direction. She believes it’s on purpose.”
“I knew it,” Boo said. “They don’t want us to find him.”
“I’ve thought long and hard about this,” Kim said. “I think they may know they’re sending us on a wild-goose chase, but it may be for the good of the show. If we found Yeti on the first day, the show would be over.”
“That’s a good point,” Rich said. “What do you want to do about it?”
“I think we should follow their directions, knowing that the direction they don’t want us to go in is most likely the area where we will find him.”
“Do you think we should sneak back out here at night and do an independent search?” Mariah asked, clearly excited about the idea.
“No, absolutely not,” Rich said sharply, making Mariah jump. “It’s, um, not safe . . . or ethical.”
“He’s right,” Boo agreed. “What if we locate Sasquatch on our own and scare him away? That would ruin the show.”
“True,” Hugh said slowly, “but if they find him, do you think they would harm him?”
The entire van went silent at that question. Would Stan and Stuey or possibly Heidi and the bald guys try to kill Bigfoot? Or trap him and put him in a zoo . . . or God forbid, experiment on him? WTF? Am I starting to believe Bigfoot actually exists? That there’s some depressed wild creature with a gargantuan pecker running around the woods looking for love? Help me, Jesus.
“I don’t think their intention is to hurt him,” I said, “but maybe we could lead them on a wild-goose chase of our own.”
“What do you mean?” Rich asked.
“I’m not really sure, but the more I think about it, the more I wonder if it’s really okay to reveal Sasquatch on national TV.”
“Praise Jesus,” Kim bellowed. “She’s a believer!”
“No, I’m not,” I insisted. “I’m worried, just in case.”
“Riiiight.” Mariah grinned.
“Oh my God!” I shouted. “I don’t believe in Bigfoot!” Everyone in the van shot me their best skeptical look. “All right, fine,” I muttered. “I don’t necessarily not believe anymore.”
“What do you mean by wild-goose chase?” Hugh asked, grinning at my embarrassing turnaround.
“Honestly, I have no idea.” I blew out a long breath and dropped my head back on the seat.
“I know,” Boo said. “What if we plant and find clues in an area we know Sasquatch isn’t in?”
“We could insist on staying in the same area,” Kim said excitedly. “They would look like asses if they forced us to leave a potential sighting.”
“I could cry really hard on camera if they tried to make us leave,” Boo offered.
“I could damage their nuts,” Mariah volunteered. “Off-camera, of course,” she added as an afterthought.
“We could threaten them,” Edith chimed in.
I wasn’t so sure this would work. Not to mention, what kind of proof could we plant? How would we do it without getting caught? Was there actually a reason to go to all this trouble?
“We don’t have any proof,” Rich noted, reading my mind.
“Oh yes, we do, Mr. Man-boobs,” Mrs. C said. She bent over and pulled a bizarre triangular beard-looking thing out of her ever-present sewing bag. It was attached to a hideous lime green knitted belt. The hair was dark and curly and it smelled vaguely of wet dog. I briefly wondered if it was alive.
“What in the hell is that thing?” I gasped, holding my nose.
“It’s a merkin, shit for brains,” Mrs. C informed me. “A genuine vagina wig made from poodle hair!” She beamed proudly and I threw up a little in my mouth.
The car went silent. I wasn’t sure if it was in revulsion or admiration . . . Now I knew why no one had wanted to tell me what a merkin was. Why in the hell would anyone need, want, make, or have a merkin? Was it some weird lesbian sex toy?
“Um, it’s all well and good that you carry merkins around with you,” Mariah said, trying not to laugh, “but how is a vajayjay wig made out of poodle hair supposed to help us?”
Mrs. C rolled her eyes. “I will cut the cooter wig into eight pieces. I will then hand each of you an eighth of the hair pie. You will put it in your pocket. When that shiny bastard is filming someone else, you will run your section of poodle beaver over as many tree trunks as you can without being caught. The individual hairs of the love taco will get caught in the trees and we can play it off as Sasquatch pubes.”
My brain had frozen on the term love taco. I didn’t think I could get past it. Even if I went to therapy every day for the rest of my life, I would never get that explicitly visual paragraph out of my head. I was now stuck with poodle beaver, hair pie, cooter wig, and the worst of the worst . . . love taco.
“I think that might work,” Kim said, impressed. “Good plan, Mrs. C.”
Was no one going to comment on her butchering the word vagina?
“Maybe you should cut the poodle beaver into seven sections,” Hugh offered. “I’ll be singing next to Stuey all day and I don’t think it would be wise for me to try to distribute any of the hair pie.”
“Good point,” Edith said, handing Mrs. C a pair of scissors. “You’re not as stupid as I thought you were.”
Hugh smiled at the backhanded, passive-aggressive compliment. I shook my head and glanced over at Rich, who looked at me with amusement.
“What?” I asked him, trying to bite back my laughter.
“Nothing.” He smiled. “It’s just fun to watch you.”
“Why?” I said, exasperated. “Because I’m going to self-combust?”
“That among other things,” he said softly. He gave me a look that made me strangely uncomfortable. I felt a zing of weird. WTF? I am not attracted to a guy with man-boobs, British teeth, and crotch hair on his head. Crapitty, crapitty, crap. What did he really mean by that? Please, God and Jesus and Brett Favre, don’t let Rich be getting a crush on me. I want him as a friend. Only. Assclowns, if he thinks he likes me, it will screw everything up . . . I’ll just stay away from him today and tomorrow and the next day . . . shit.
Chapter 22
“Oh for God’s sake, is he going to sing all day?” Heidi groused as she unwillingly searched the trees for pubic hair.
I grabbed her and yanked her aside before Hugh could hear her griping. She’d been bitching for the last hour straight and I’d had enough. “Listen to me,” I hissed quietly. “Hugh has some, um . . . self-esteem issues. Singing is good for him even if it’s painful for everyone within hearing distance. So, yes, he is going to sing all day and you’re going to enjoy it . . . or at least pretend to.”
Why in the world did she cover herself up with the makeup and fake hair? She was gorgeous and somehow familiar . . . “Do I know you?” I stared at her and tried unsuccessfully to place her.
“Nope,” she said, moving away. “You don’t.”
I watched her as she sidled up to Stuey and grabbed his tiny butt. Something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t put my finger on it . . .
“Thank you,” Kim whispered, startling me. To keep from falling, I grabbed the tree that I was covertly pubing.
“Holy hell, Kim. You scared me,” I said, wiping the poodle hair I’d wasted off my shirt.
“Sorry,” she chuckled, helping me remove the damning strands from my clothes. “I wanted to thank you for sticking up for my Hubie. I know he’s a bit unusual, but he’s a beautiful person and I love him.”
“You’re welcome,” I said with a big ball of emotion clogging my throat. “You guys are lucky to have each other.”
“I know, dear.” She smiled and tilted her big head to the side. “What about you, Kristy? Do you have a love in your life?”
“Um, well . . . I thought so, but . . .”
Kim stood quietly and watched my struggle. Did I?
“It’s okay, sweetie. You don’t have to tell me.”
“No, no, it’s not that. I just think I might have found it and screwed it up,” I told her.
“If it was the real thing and meant to be, it will always be there,” she said with confidence. “I chased Hubie for three years. He had no idea I even wanted him till the night I jumped him at a Sasquatch Singles gathering.”
“Wow,” I said, hoping there would be no graphic details.
“Yep,” she reminisced fondly. “We got married two days later and have been madly in love ever since.” She took my hand in hers. “Kristy, you are a beautiful girl on the outside, but more important, you are just as beautiful on the inside. You will find your love when you are ready to accept him.”
“Do you think?” I choked out, feeling the tears well up in my eyes.
“I know.” She gave me a hug. “You should let Boo touch you. She has the gift and might be able to tell you what your future holds.”
Size Matters (Handcuffs and Happily Ever Afters) Page 17