New Moan

by Stephfordy Mayo

  D’Acula took me on tour of his studio. Explained he was entertaining himself in his undeath by making romantic and educational films for both living and dead. What an artist, gentleman and egalitarian; felt myself quite overcome with awe. He said he had been sadly let down by one of his stars, who’d gone for a walk in the woods and never returned. Would I consider taking his place? And then, once I’d done him this favor, he would answer all my questions.

  Naturally, I agreed with alacrity. He took me into a room made to look like a restaurant, all done up in red velvet and satin. A man of such taste! I asked what my motivation was in scene. He said I was to think about being really, really hungry.

  A young woman entered, wearing black skirt, corset and little white apron – the waitress, I presumed.

  ‘How can I serve you today?’ she asked.

  I suggested seeing a menu might be a start. D’Acula frowned and thrust a script towards me. The title page said: ‘Fangs for the Mammaries’. Mammaries? Were they that tribe from New Zealand?

  ‘No time to read the script now!’ D’Arcy said, and told me to take my shirt off. A kind suggestion; it was rather hot in there. Rehearsed scene for an hour or so; D’Acula’s main advice to think ‘hungrier! hungrier! starving!’ but not sure this really helped me uncover my character’s personality.

  The girl was definitely NOT a method actress, am fairly sure no real waitress would lean quite so far forward over table to lay out cutlery, nor attempt to lick her customers’ necks. Didn’t really understand the specials menu, either – almost made it sound as if I was to eat the waitress not the food!

  Still, this is foreign country etc., and the film is almost certainly art house, therefore not expected to make sense. Must return tomorrow to run through the final scene. Think budget will be much higher than for today’s paltry production; D’Arcy kept talking about ‘filming my money shot’.

  I returned to hotel to write down progress so far. Must admit, I am a little disappointed – was hoping that D’Acula would simply answer questions so I could be with Heffa once more. But suppose that one must prove oneself worthy of his patronage. Considered letting Heffa know what I was up to, but decided not to worry her. After all, what could possibly go wrong?

  chapter 15

  * * *

  going all the way

  (to romania)

  Another day passed in a slow, agonizing mist of sadness and pain and confusion. I was just trying to decide if anyone had ever been so strong in the face of unending adversity as I, when my reflections were interrupted by Bobbi crashing through the door. ‘Oh, thank goodness you’re here – it’s an emergency!’

  Honestly, couldn’t she knock? I was right in the middle of soul-searching, where were her manners?

  ‘What is it, can’t it wait till morning? All this late-night drama is doing terrible things to my skin, I’m getting positively aged. I don’t know how Chump is going to afford all the lotions I need.’

  Bobbi looked wildly at me. All her poise seemed to have deserted her. Her hair was disheveled, her shoes untied, she looked utterly insane. ‘It’s the worst news – it’s Teddy!’

  It was a good thing I was already sitting down, as I felt sure I would have collapsed otherwise. My mind raced through all the possibilities. Perhaps he’d found someone else, some Romanian seductress, or perhaps he’d been kidnapped by white slavers or brainwashed or murdered. Nothing Europeans got up to would surprise me.

  Somehow, I found the inner strength to articulate my worst fear. ‘He’s dead, isn’t he? Or deader. Oh, Bobbi, tell me he’s not dead!’

  ‘Not yet,’ Bobbi said urgently, ‘but I fear he will be. Look at this headline!’ She waved her phone in front of my face, and I saw the Stawker splash: ‘Haughty Heart-throb to Star in Romanian Rumpfest.’

  ‘What does this mean?’ I yelled, throwing the evil device away from me and out of the window.

  ‘Gee, thanks. I was going to use that to call Teddy and talk him out of it. Now we’ll just have to go and stop him ourselves. Oh well, I suppose a race against time will be fun.’

  ‘A race where? Tell me what’s going on!’

  ‘Don’t you get it? Teddy’s agreed to be in one of D’Arcy D’Acula’s blue movies! A porn film, Heffa. Even you must have heard of those. He’s committing career suicide! We must fly to Romania this instant and stop him.’

  I swayed, the world graying around me. My Teddy, stooping so low, how could he do such a thing to me? I was going to be a renowned star, and I’d never be able to associate with anyone who had a dirty movie on their IMDb page; people might have thought I was involved, too. Not to mention that his private parts belonged to me alone, and I couldn’t endure the thought of him sharing them with the world. There must have been some dreadful mistake, but Bobbi was right. Time was of the essence. I had to prevent this disaster before the death of Teddy’s career took place.

  ‘Quick, Bobbi, help me shift this stuff outside. I’ll need money if I’m getting a plane; it’s the only option.’

  Together, we moved my dad’s TV, three-piece suite, stereo system, rare butterfly collection and Best of Humphrey Bogart DVD set onto the front lawn. I hastily scribbled a sign for passing cars: ‘All this for just $500.’ Bobbi generously offered to pay for my ticket, but naturally I said no. I was a big girl now; I had to stand on my own two feet and pay my own way.

  An hour later, we’d collected enough money. Now I just had to break the news to Chump. I knew there was a way to handle this sensitively, so he’d know I was doing this for a good reason. If I explained everything to him, I was sure he’d take it well.

  Chump entered just as I was about to leave, and blinked in confusion at the empty spaces where his furniture had been. ‘Say, Heffa, didn’t I have a front room before?’

  ‘No time to go into details, Chump. I had to sell everything, but it was pretty shoddy anyway. Think of this as a timely opportunity to upgrade,’ I said gently.

  ‘But, Heff, the game’s on this evening, how am I going to watch it without a TV?’

  ‘How can you be so heartless, Dad? This is an emergency! Gosh, no wonder Mom left you, it’s always “me, me, me” with you, isn’t it? I’m leaving now, and I’m not going to tell you where I’m going, and I may never return. So there, I hope you’re sorry now!’

  And, with that, I ran out of the door to where Bobbi was waiting. I thought that had gone okay. He’d had to make it needlessly upsetting for me, of course, but I was going to be strong about it and only mention it once or twice in interviews in the future. I’d tried to be as reassuring as possible given the dramatic circumstances; I was sure he wouldn’t worry about me anyway. He was such a terrible father.

  Chump did run after the car for a mile or two, waving his arms, but soon enough he clutched his chest and collapsed and we left him behind. Thank goodness for that. I was so tired of the way he kept trying to hog the limelight.

  Bobbi had already booked us on an overnight flight to Romania. Finally, I had a use for that passport I’d foolishly applied for when my class went on that Geography trip. How was I to know Rhode Island wasn’t overseas? But I was glad now that I had a logical reason to be among the few US citizens with passports.

  The journey was unbearable. I couldn’t sleep and the in-flight film was the Bratz movie. I couldn’t understand how that had even been made, all the characters were so dull, uncharismatic and self-obsessed; I had no idea what kids saw in it.

  In the end, I distracted myself en route by contemplating all the things I was going to say to Teddy once we saw each other again. I had missed him so much; I was going to have to ignore him for ages, and probably flirt some more with Joe Cahontas, so he’d understand what he’d put me through.

  Once we finally got off the plane, Bobbi raced us through customs (literally, to everyone there we must have seemed like a blur) and we joined the long queue for car hire.

  ‘Can’t you just steal something?’ I asked, jumping up and down in haste. ‘Or r
un us there, don’t you have super-speed? C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, we gotta go!’

  ‘Do you want us to get arrested before we get to Boubcharest? Now calm down; if you’re really good, I’ll let you buy an ice cream later.’

  I was momentarily pacified, and soon after we were in the rented Vulvo G-Sputz and driving carefully through the Romanian woods. Their trees could not measure up to Spatula’s: they were spindly, thin specimens that looked pale and undeveloped, with half-grown shrubs sparse on the ground around them. The view was entirely uninspiring, and once more my mind drifted to full-blooded American wood, Teddy rugged at my side as we explored every nook and cranny of the landscape.

  ‘Are we nearly there yet?’

  ‘No.’

  I waited at least a minute. ‘What about now? Are we nearly there now?’

  Bobbi sighed. ‘We’ll get there on time, okay, the laws of fiction demand it, we just have to get there right at the last minute for added drama. Why don’t you read the guidebook and let me drive? I’m not used to handling stick.’

  Judging from the way she and Jack were usually all over each other, I somehow doubted that, but I reached for the guidebook as instructed.

  ‘Hey, it says that today is the Festival of St. Voluptua. Apparently, in the fifteenth century, the Boubcharest convent was attacked by marauding rapists, and St. Voluptua saved the nuns by bearing her breasts and beating the rapists over the head with a schlonga – a large Romanian candle – while they were distracted. In memory of this, the townsfolk wear breasts in her honor and the young men have to race around town carrying their schlongas. And then there’s an orgy in the main square.’

  How quaint Europeans were, and how sweet to see them keep up traditions, even ones as ridiculous and unlikely as this. I hoped we’d be able to stay and witness the orgy once we’d rescued Teddy. It was always good to help preserve local customs, and I was sure it would give us all sorts of useful ideas.

  ‘Ah, yes, St. Voluptua. I heard that D’Arcy D’Acula invented her in the 1950s for a laugh, and the locals decided it would be a good way to bring in some tourist money.’ Bobbi glanced over at my crestfallen face. ‘What, you didn’t think it was genuine, did you? Come on, Heffa, it’s the silliest-sounding festival in the world, obviously it’s made up.’

  ‘I totally knew that,’ I sniffed. Did she think I was an idiot or something? It was quite a coincidence that it was happening on this very day, though, of all the days in the year we could have come to Boubcharest. Anyone would think there was dramatic irony at work, but any narrative with me at its heart had to be an irony-free zone. There simply wasn’t room for the both of us.

  It seemed like forever before we reached Boubcharest, but arrive we did at last. It took ages to find a parking space, and I was nearly crazy with tension when we finally penetrated the thick walls of the town with their schlonga-shaped battlements, and approached our goal.

  The streets were crowded with partying locals and tourists. There were grown men proudly wearing St. Voluptua’s bosoms on their chests or heads, women brazenly walking the streets bare-chested, and small boys having sword fights with imitation schlongas. I barely knew where to look in this fervent celebration of fertility.

  ‘Wow, everyone looks like right tits,’ Bobbi said, ‘especially the people wearing them. I’ve got to take some photos. There’s a whole section on Stawker called “Mock the Foreigns”; these gap-toothed Euro-hicks are pure gold.’

  How could she think of such things at a time like this? I grabbed a schlonga from a passing ten-year-old and hit her over the head with it. ‘Focus, Bobbi, we’ve got to find Teddy before he does something he’ll regret for ever!’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Bobbi said, and thrust herself into the throng, tossing schlonga-wielding yokels to the left and the right with gay abandon. I ran behind her as her violent rampage cleared us a path; no time to worry about the wails and moans as the festival-goers picked parts of themselves up from the ground. It served them right for getting in the way of true love.

  ‘Where’s the studio?’ I yelled as we ran.

  ‘I don’t know – I thought you knew!’

  Oh Lord, did I have to do everything round here? I looked about wildly, catching sight of a convenient billboard that read: ‘D’Acula Films – So Stimulating You’ll Rise from the Dead.’ How fortuitous! I raced on, and soon found myself at the studio gates. A bored-looking attendant tried to bar my advance, but I swiftly elbowed him in the crotch and carried on running. Teddy, Teddy, I’m on my way, wait for me!

  I rounded the corner, and there he was: my angel, harder than I’d ever seen him before. Time seemed to slow down. I was really tired from all the rushing about and my feet dragged on the ground. This was no time for a slow-motion montage, and yet I couldn’t help it. Time passed in dramatic flashes as I went forward …

  … the sound of my panting – the clapperboard slamming down – D’Acula shouting, ‘Action! Drop ’em, Teddy boy!’ – my darling’s hand on his pants – the thud of my heartbeat – his fingers on the first button …

  ‘Nooooo!’ I yelled, all time for finesse long gone. When things went italic, it was really getting serious. I dived forward, knocking Teddy over just as he was about to take his pants off, and falling heavily upon him. His flesh was just as rigid and cold as I’d remembered it. I placed my hand on his as it rested on his flies and squeezed, feeling him jump at my touch. Oh, Teddy, Teddy, how close I came to losing you! How close you came to coming without me!

  ‘Heffa?’ Teddy blinked. ‘Is that you? What in the blazes are you doing here? D’Acula was about to blow his wad on this scene, and you’ve ruined it – now he’ll never tell me about The Reshuffle.’

  ‘Don’t you understand this is career suicide?!’

  He didn’t answer me at first, but helped me carefully to my feet, checking me over gently to make sure that the ground hadn’t sullied my clothes or mussed my hair. That was the Teddy I remembered. Then he said, ‘What do you mean? This is an art-house movie. They’re very well respected, especially the ones where everyone’s naked all the time.’

  ‘Oh, my love, how sweetly naive you are. Look around you: the cheap bedroom set, the semi-naked women, the title, what did you think this was?’

  ‘Fangs for the Mammaries? Is that supposed to mean something?’ He looked embarrassed, probably by his endearing innocence, and changed the subject swiftly. ‘Did you come all this way to save me?’ He clutched me harder to him; I rested my hand on his unbeating heart.

  ‘Of course I did, my darling. I know your chances of having a career are slim-to-nonexistent, but you should have thought about me before you agreed to star in a porno. What kind of impact could it have on my future if it came out?’

  He lifted me to him. ‘Oh, Heffa – am I forgiven?’

  ‘Oh, Teddy – of course!’ He spun me round, and for a moment it seemed as if birds sang, glitter sparkled in the air, the sun set overhead …

  ‘Cut, cut, cut!’ a loud, uncouth voice shouted. ‘What is this? This is not some romance, stop messing with the special effects.’

  Teddy lowered me back down to earth, and we turned together to see D’Arcy D’Acula growling at a luckless technician. I glared at him. So this was the man who had lured my angel into the world of vice: a faded matinee idol with greasy hair and highly inappropriate clothing.

  ‘I am so disappointed,’ he proclaimed, gesturing at the two of us. ‘I thought I had found a real man for my movie, but the minute you turn up, he turns into a crybaby, a weedy teen heart-throb, bloodless, yurch, you make me sick.’ He threw the script at Teddy, but missed, and it fell at my feet. ‘You’ll never work in this town again.’

  ‘But we must know about The Reshuffle,’ Teddy insisted, advancing on D’Acula with his teeth bared. The sight of him all shirtless and macho like that was quite overpowering; I picked up the script and fanned myself with it. Perhaps he and D’Acula would duel to the death!

  ‘Hah, I should just kill you, you
pathetic failure of a vampire,’ D’Acula scowled. ‘Still, it would be a shame to destroy something so pretty. I shall grant you this favor. Come with me.’

  We followed him away from that dreadful place. I kept Teddy’s hand clasped tightly in mine. I wasn’t letting him go anywhere on his own. I might need his protection from the strange men with oiled muscles and jockstraps wandering the set; it was all making me feel rather dizzy.

  Outside the studio, D’Acula led us to a sunken concrete pit. I peered into it, and saw a foul-smelling pile of pieces of paper, treasure maps, warp drives, MacGuffins and flux capacitors. Within it, up to their knees in garbage, a few workers picked through the mess. I gagged on the rotten stench. ‘What is this?’

  ‘It’s the Exposition Dump,’ D’Acula announced proudly. ‘Repository of half-baked justifications, long-winded explanations – and we’ve been diversifying into technobabble, too; it’s amazing how much people will pay for a bit of reverse polarity. What was your question again?’

  ‘A vampire I encountered announced there was something called The Reshuffle about to take place, and he also mentioned the rising of the New Moan. What is the nature of these events?’ Teddy asked.

  ‘Also, it all seems to be connected with a bunch of people trying to kill me. Tell us what the heck is going on,’ I demanded.

  D’Acula motioned into the Dump. A few seconds later, a worker emerged with a soggy length of knotted string, which he handed solemnly to his master. D’Acula scanned it. ‘If this flimsy skein of narrative is to be believed, there is indeed something called the New Moan rising. Are you ready for the exposition?’

  I grasped Teddy, and he nodded as we braced ourselves for an onslaught of over-detailed plot description.

  ‘The Reshuffle is an Ancient and Dread Time of Reckoning—’ D’Acula began.