by D. M. Guay
“Here we are.” Her hand emerged from the depths. She handed me a black roll.
“Duct tape?”
“Waterproof tape, dear.” She shook her head. “I thought it was an odd order, too, but it's better if we don't question the divine.”
Gee. I wonder who ordered this. Where is Angel eight ball, anyway? I was about to look, but Henrietta had more nightmares in that bag of hers. She lifted out a small cardboard box. It clinked when she handed it to me. It was heavy and filled with glass bottles. “This is all I could get. Celestial supply problems. The Heavens are in disarray. Audits! Make this last, dear. Always read the label and follow the directions.”
“Read? This guy? Heh heh. Good luck,” Kevin threw shade at me then stuffed another cookie in his mouth. “Mmmph. Mmmmm. Mmmmm.”
“Goodness. Look at the time. I'm late for cards with the ladies.”
“Ooh, bridge?” Zack asked. “I like bridge.”
“Tarot. Good luck, dear.” She patted me on the arm. She turned to Zack and said, “I'll see you on March 13, 2041. Bye, boys.”
She shuffled over to Bob the Doughnut Guy, pulled something out of her purse, and sprinkled it all over him. She said what sounded like a prayer, and he sat up so fast, so frantic, it's like Henrietta had just jolted him to life with a set of defibrillator paddles. “It's okay, dear. They're not here to kill you.”
Henrietta kicked open the front door with her thick rubber orthotic shoes and booked it across the parking lot. Man. She's fast for a granny. Bob the Doughnut Guy stood up, smoothed himself out, and picked his magic pink box up off the mat. His wide eyes locked on Gunther. “Uh...”
Bob the Doughnut Guy sped past him, around behind the counter, clutching that box tight. Probably to keep it from shaking out of his hands. “Wow. Crazy night. Heh heh.”
He tried to smile, but it was really just gritted teeth. A bead of sweat had broken out around his mustache. He tugged at his collar. “So. Um....Got another seasonal flavor for you. Special edition.”
Poor Bob. Trying to pretend it's all good.
“I told you no more pumpkin spice, Bob. Mmmm. Mmmmm.” Kevin chewed, but he must have turned full ghost again, because the cookie stayed intact. Even the crumbs were ghostly. He looked at the cookie. At his transparent carapace. “Shit. I can't win for losing. Oh well. It was good while it lasted.”
Bob leaned away from Kevin. It was subtle, but there was no disguising it. He was scared. Great. This guy works in a bakery of nightmares. If he's scared, we're totally screwed.
“Uh..no. Heh heh. No. You'll like this one. Chocolate doughnut with peanut butter filling. Ohio buckeye flavor! Heh heh heh.” Bob the Doughnut Guy fake chuckled as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with a pink, elbow-high rubber glove. Then he lifted the cover off the doughnut case and loaded it so fast his pink hands were a blur.
Gunther changed the second the cover lifted off the case. He took one look at all that frosted glazed evil and couldn't wait to get at it. His giant meaty hand grabbed, but he couldn't get at them. He grabbed again, and his hands went right through. Poor Gunther. Still vapor.
“Nooooooo!” Gunther screamed. “It's CHEAT DAY!”
His fists came down on the counter, so hard he dented the formica.
Oh, snap.
Bob the Doughnut Guy froze in terror.
“Cheat,” Gunther groaned. “CHEAT!”
Gunther's shoulders popped, his head rolled in circles. He creaked and cracked. His body stretched. And stretched. And stretched even more. This dude was like salt water taffy on steroids. His arms stretched until his knuckles dragged the floor, like an angry blue demon King Kong. They were thick and muscular. With claws. His body cracked and puffed, taller, stouter, wider. So thick—so solid—he cast a shadow over us.
He lifted a big fat arm and smacked the doughnut case off the counter, grunting, “CHEAT DAY!”
That demon arm? It was not vapor. It was solid. Rock solid.
“Lloyd. Poltergeist!” DeeDee backed away, pulling Hunter back with her. “Get away from him.”
DeeDee ducked as Dolly's doughnuts flew up up, arcing through the air. Kevin's ghostly blue legs waved, trying to catch them, but you know how that went.
Gunther opened his mouth, ready to eat. Not good. If he swallowed just one of those chocolate frosted ones, he was gonna turn into a really big problem, really fast.
My hands shook. Tink tink tink.
The glass bottles. I stared down at them, white-knuckling the box, and everything became so clear. This was my moment. I was not going to run. Henrietta just dropped the answer right in my hand, and I was gonna use it. It's my turn to save the day.
I backed away from Gunther and riffled through the box. I grabbed a bottle. Green liquid. Curse Breaker? Might work. My palms were so sweaty the bottle nearly slipped out of my hands, but I held tight. I read the label through my fat, pink, shaking fingers. Kevin said to follow directions, right? The label said: Mix with Gut Scraper.”
Gunther screamed, “CHEAT!”
His fists crunched down. The counter split. Bob the Doughnut Guy ducked for cover.
“Will open portal and transport entities...”
Portal? Yes, please. A second later, I had a bottle of Curse Breaker in one hand and a bottle of Gut Scraper in the other. I uncorked them and threw them like grenades, right at Gunther, whose mouth just chomped down on not one, but three fresh-baked devil's food chocolate with chocolate frosting doughnuts.
This better work.
Nope. The bottles bounced right off of him. Shit. They dropped like stones, and shattered on the linoleum by his cloven hooves. The liquid splurped up out of the bottles, green and red, until the two streams touched.
That's when DeeDee hopped out of the aisle wielding two giant metal flashlights. She waved the lights all around Gunther like laser pointers. “Ooh! Look at the light! Go into the light, Gunther. Go into the light!”
“What are you doing?” Kevin said. “He's not a cat!”
DeeDee took one look at the liquid, the broken bottles, and catapulted herself up off the ground, straight at Kevin. She shot at him as fast as a bullet. She tackled him, and the two of them disappeared behind the counter.
Because those liquids? The second they touched, they turned to gas, sizzling and sparking, and sssssing like a leaky air mattress with a fat dude on it. (Ask me how I know.) It was not a casual fizzle, like when you open a Pepsi. Oh no. It formed a big angry cloud of swirling purple, green and blue ribbons. They shot up all around Gunther, twirling and swirling, and twisting around his bits. And that gas? It grabbed him and pulled him down, like they were solid. Down in. As in, into some sort of hole.
I couldn't move. It's like I'd been turned into a Lloydcicle and frozen on the spot.
“Uh, Guys? What's this? What's happening? Hey. Get away from me! Get off of me! Aahhhh!” Harmless ghost Gunther returned. He punched and smacked, fighting the smoke. It was all for nothing. The harder he fought, the tighter it grabbed him. Until chunk by chunk, his body sunk lower and lower, until only one of his giant outstretched meat hands was visible, reaching out for help, for anything to grab hold of. The puddle? It slurped him right in.
Oh God. What have I done?
Even Zack was shaking. He'd grabbed onto me and held tight, finger bones quaking.
Bob the Doughnut Guy popped up from behind the counter. He swallowed hard and said, “Welp, see you tomorrow night, bye!”
He ran right through the hipster ghost, planted his hands on the counter and hopped right over, taking all the cheap cigarette racks down with him. He sprinted out the front door like he was hoping to win an Olympic medal. His tires squealed on the asphalt as he peeled out of the lot.
DeeDee rose from behind the counter, a giant fat semisolid ghost Kevin squirming in her arms. “What's gotten into you? Let me go! Shit. Whose gonna clean up those cigarettes? Hint: It ain't me.”
She looked at me. I looked at her. Eyes wide. Not really understanding what j
ust happened.
“Hey. Where's Gunther?” Kevin saw the puddle, which was now closing in on itself, shrinking down to nothing. “What did you do, kid?”
“Uh. Saved us?” I think?
“I mean, what did you pour on him? Bring that over here and let me take a look.”
I picked up the box. The bottles nearly shook out of my hands as I carried them to the counter. My heart buzzed. “Henrietta said read the labels, so I read the labels.”
Kevin bent down to inspect. “It says 'Warning. Do not mix with Gut Scraper. It will open a portal to transport entities to the seventh circle, ring three, boiling pit division.'”
We all stared at the now inert, evaporating puddle.
“Oof. Poor Gunther. So uh, tell me, kid. What part of that label made you say, 'Oh, this is a great idea!'”
“I didn't see that part. My fingers were in the way. He was huge. I panicked!”
“Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh.” That was Kevin, exasperated sighing me. “Wow, kid. Wow. You seriously half ass, dumb assed this one. Where's my pen? I gotta write you up. You better slow down. The notebook's almost full!”
Chapter 17
“Where's the tape I ordered?” Angel eight ball wobbled on my desk, leaking. The wood veneer underneath him started to warp. His fluid level was so low the triangle could barely turn. “I'm in really bad shape here.”
“Why don't you go look for it? Can't you see I'm busy?” I shooed him away. “Gah! Can you go leak somewhere else? If you get it wet, it'll be ruined!”
“Don't get snippy with me. You know I'm trying to transfer into an iPhone. Errrrrr. Errrrrrrr. Wow. It is really hard to turn this remotely. Errrrrr.” Oh, but he managed. Because always an opinion. “Why don't you top me up while you're at it? And hurry up. I've almost run dry. We need to make this thing last. I'm number 9,998,383,750,000 in line at Divine Embodiments. They're only serving No. 3!”
I rolled my eyes. He was just as bad as Kevin. Nag nag nag. So I ignored him and shooed him out of the way while I rifled through my desk drawer. Again. I had to find the blank check Faust gave me. Had to. Because it was high time to use it.
This investigation had to end. It was not my fault that eel showed up at Bubba's. It was not my fault that Zack went on a killing spree. And it sure as hell wasn't my fault my employee manual was a biting, feral nightmare. It's not my fault Gunther—well, never mind. That was kind of my fault.
Anyway, I'd show them. I'd wish it all away. Dear Faust, please reward me by removing all the ghosts and the crying reaper from the store and replacing my employee manual with a real, normal useful book. Amen. Boom. See? One blank check, and I could finally clear my name. One blank check, and I could get back to normal life. One blank check, investigation over, problem solved.
My face flushed hot. Dammit! “I know I put it in here!” I upended the drawer again. But it didn't matter. It was still just a nest of wrinkled bills and receipts, old late notices and crumpled twenty-dollar bills.
“Thank you, baby Jesus. I found it.” Angel rolled into my arm. He had that roll of tape next to him. Don't ask me how he moved it. “Wow. Look at this place. We really need to start in on the cleanliness and godliness thing. Hold on. I'm gonna put a note in your file.”
I grabbed him, and I shook him. Hard. Really, really hard. Jaw clinched. I grunted at him, practically chanting. “No. More. Notes. In. My File. I'm. Done. With. Stupid. Files!”
Growrrrrr.
“Stupid angel. Don't growl at me! You're a jerk. A weird nosey jerk.”
Shake shake shake. Splosh splosh splosh.
Because yeah. Every time I shook him, more water flew out.
“You're a shitty guardian angel, do you know that? Where have you been anyway? You're supposed to help me. But no. You were nowhere around. You didn't even stand up for me with Faust. Because you're shitty! I hope you get fired! Because you're not helping meeeeeeeeeeee.”
I slammed him down on the desk. He stopped. Then he rolled. Well, clinked. I pretty much shook the last of the water out of him. “Ow. Meany pants. I told the truth. Bubba's was fuzzy. In fact, that whole block is fuzzy, especially the store. Something's wrong on your end. I reset my Ethereal Net connection twice, and it didn't help at all! And you listen here, Bub. Don't get high and mighty with me. I'm trying to upgrade you from a Nobody to a Somebody and this is the thanks I get? Sniff. Herp. I told you. I'm going through a hard time right now. Work is crazy, and my home life is hurrrrrr hurrrrrrr. Sniff. Sniff. Sorry. Pfooooooooooooooo.”
“Are you blowing your nose?”
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
“What was that? Did something follow you home? Monster!” Angel's triangle clinked. “Quick. Grab a weapon! Do you have a flaming sword? No. Wait. Get your celestial trumpet. Those are good for pretty much everything. They can even make walls crumble. One time, at Jericho—”
“I don't have a trumpet! Where would I get a trumpet?”
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
“It's there. THERE!” His triangle chinked. An arrow. Pointing at my closet.
Gulp. Sure enough. Something was rattling around in there. I tugged at my collar. “It's probably just Gertrude.”
“You better double check.”
I wanted to ignore it. I really did. But Angel was right. You can never be too sure. Anything can follow you home from Demon Mart, including the angel of death. I grabbed the closest weapon. Which was, unfortunately, the guitar controller for my Guitar Hero game. But it'd have to do. I clutched that plastic fretboard so tight I was pretty sure it was gonna crack in half. I tiptoed to the closet.
Grrrrr. Rrrrrrrrr. Rrrrrrrrrrrr. The floor rippled and writhed as something moved underneath the pile of dirty clothes.
“Seriously, though. You need to clean.” Angel hit my foot. Leaking red all over my carpet.
“Shhhhhhhhh!”
I held my breath and reached down into my closet, guitar ready to smash whatever beast lay hidden underneath.
Hisssssssssssss.
I grabbed a dirty shirt. I yanked. I jumped up and landed, feet apart, ready to bring that guitar down like a hammer. “Hi ya!”
Gertrude looked up at me.
“Oh. Sorry, Gertrude.” I patted her head. And she swatted. Not at me. Something shot out and clamped down right on my hand.
“OW!” I shook, and it flew through the air. In a flash, I saw my employee manual, spine rumpling, chewing? Flying right toward the handful of Slim Jim Monster Meat Sticks I'd left on my dresser. It landed on them, open, and started sucking them all in. “No! Those are mine!”
I dropped the guitar and scrambled after it. But it was no use. That book was hungry. He horked and snarfled and sucked them all right in. Yeah. I get it. I saw it eating all those Savage Meat Sticks, and I thought, mmmm. Those don't look half bad. But I'll never know now, will I? Because it growled at me every time I tried to step closer.
Grrrrr. Grrrrrrr.
Angel rolled up. “Uh. I've never seen a book do that before.”
“Yeah. Me either.”
“Did Celestial Library Services accidentally issue you a Necronomicon? Because you are not qualified for that. Trust me.”
I looked at Angel. Angel looked at me. The book grunted as it chewed. “Thanks for your vote of confidence. I thought you wanted me to be a big hero.”
“Baby steps,” he said. “Is that its stomach growling? Is it still hungry?”
“I don't know. It ate a whole pound of Slim Jim's today already. And three packs of Red Vines. Oh. Wait a minute. I've still got one Savage Meat Stick in my backpack. Yay!”
I swear the book heard me. Because it perked up and whined like a sad dog. If books had faces, it would be making sad puppy dog eyes. I swear. Ugh. “Fine. Take it.”
I unearthed my backpack from the piles of dirty laundry by my bed, unzipped it, and tossed the meat stick at it. That'll keep him busy. I don't have time to entertain a rabid book. I needed to find that blank check!
“This is so weird. Has it let y
ou read it yet?”
“Can you make yourself useful and help me look for that check? If you want me to keep my job, I need it.”
Mamrfff Narmfff Narmfff.
“I already found it. Look.” His triangle clinked. It had a tiny arrow on it. Pointing at the closet cave. There, at the edge of my book's creepy hobo villain lair, was a crumpled red envelope. My blank check. I must have stopped breathing or gasped or something, because my book immediately perked up.
The book looked at me. I looked at the book. Suddenly, it shot up off the dresser, flying right at that check. Spine open.
“No!” I lunged, arms out, racing to beat it, screaming, “DON'T EAT THAT! NOOOOOOOOO!”
Snap. Crunk. Thump. Ow.
That was the sound of my employee manual snapping shut. Around the blank check. And me, hitting my head smack on the closet door and sliding face down into the carpet. The room spun for a hot minute, and when I came to, that stupid book was Muppet chomping down on my check.
I grabbed the little red end of it before it sunk all the way down in. “Let go. Bad book. Bad! I need this. NEED. You don't understand! Please let go.”
It stopped wiggling, looked at me, and whined. “Yeah. You get it. Good boy. Now let go. Uncle Lloyd needs to cash this so he can keep his job and his life can go back to normal.”
It eased up. Phew. “Thanks, dude.”
But then it yanked, once, really hard, and slurp, it snatched it right out of my hand and swallowed it whole. It was a fake out. Just like the cleaning crew and the pack of Red Vines. Man, this book was crafty.
“That's it. Stupid book. I'll shake it out of you.” I grabbed at it. It dodged. “Give it. Give it here!”
That book looked right at me and turned to page eleven. The portal form? Huh. Was it trying to tell me something? The page moved. I squinted. All the little blank spaces on the form were filling in, as if written in by some magical hand. Suddenly, a green portal opened up, and my book shot me two middle fingers. Yeah, I know it's a book, but I also know when a book is flipping me off. Then it dove right in and disappeared.