FicWad

THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO DUST BUNNY A.K.A. DUSTY
IN LOVING MEMORY
?? 2002 - 10/07/2006
MAY YOUR SPIRIT BE REINCARNATED IN YOUR PREVIOUS EARTHLY FORM,
THE ONE CLOSEST TO PERFECTION,
THE MASTERPIECE OF EVOLUTION,
YET ONLY RIVALED BY BABY RUTH BARS:
A GUINEA PIG

P.S.: TELL ELVIS TO STOP FEEDING THE TALK SHOW INDUSTRY BY MANIPULATING POTATO CHIPS SO THAT THEY ARE SHAPED LIKE HIS LEFT PINKY.

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13. Hail to the Pumpkin King: Flaming feces and sissy drummers


As the end of October was drawing near, all my students were talking about was Halloween. They were talking about what costumes they would be wearing for trick or treating, which houses they would make sure to check because the people living there always handed out "good candy" (I´m guessing it´s somewhat synonymous with "tons of expensive junk that colors your tongue green") and which households to avoid because they gave out "crap" (fruit and orange-flavored chocolate).

I had to interrupt the heated conversation among the youngsters to point out that "crap" should not be used in class and probably, as a general rule, not at all when referring to food. This led to laughter and Jimmy Newman shouting, "But my guinea pig Doughnut eats his poo!" This remark turned the mass of already giggling children into howling hyenas.

Over the past two months and some odd days I had managed to connect to most kids in my class, some more and some less (as for instance, previous mentioned Poo Boy Jimmy). On the whole, I was very pleased with how things were going during our lessons. I had the feeling I called the shots. Yet, every now and then they´d get a bit out of control. Usually the mention of excrements - this had not been the premiere of Doughnut and his diet - or me announcing a test did the trick. Those two things probably held the same value to the kids.

I sighed and calmed everybody down. "Since I´m in no position to change Doughnut´s liking for the self-made -"

Jimmy again. Well, at least he had raised his hand to speak and not shouted out. "Yes, Jimmy?"

He looked at me with sincere eyes, "It´s natural. All guinea pigs eat -"

I interrupted him before he could repeatedly pronounce the word that had caused this whole commotion.

I nodded understandingly, "Yes, yes." I started again, "Since I´m in no position to change Doughnut´s liking for the self-made, given to him and his brothers and sisters in guinea pig-hood by Mother Nature, I might as well teach you words that you can use instead of the c-word."

"Do you mean cr-"

"Yes, Jimmy. That´s the one I mean." I sighed and spelled ´excrements´ and ´feces´ on the blackboard. Then I pointed at the writing, "Now, if you want to sound like adults you use these words, okay?" I saw some heads nodding. Good.

Wait, I had counted my chickens before they were hatched. Jimmy´s hand was up. I smiled and nodded at him to speak.

"I was wondering, Ms. Scully, do you want us to write sentences using those new words again?"

I had in fact asked them to do that with new vocabulary that came up in class. I just hadn´t thought it would come back and bite me in the ass, pardon me, in the ´rear´, ´behind´ or ´bottom´.

"I don´t think that´s necessary this time. I´m sure all of you will remember them perfectly without writing sentences."

"But, Ms. Scully, I have a good one."

Hm, you should encourage students to speak up in class so I figured what the heck, "Okay, let´s hear it, Jimmy."

"If Mr. Bellows gives me an apple on Halloween like he did last year I will put a bag of burning excrements or feces on his porch."

Lovely. That´s my bright student talking. Well, obviously the new vocabulary did come in handy for them. I gave him an affirmative nod, "That´s a perfect example of how to use those new pieces of vocabulary, Jimmy."

He was all smiles. It was cute.

Then Cindy Burt raised her hand and wanted to know what I was doing on Halloween. I told the class that I really hadn´t made any plans yet. Somehow the little brats talked me into staying home and waiting for them to ring my bell so I could give them some "good candy". How they found out where I lived, I´ll never know. But I got a feeling that Jimmy was involved.

_ _ _ _ _


The day before Halloween Patrick asked me what I had planned for the night of the ghouls and witches after we had finished our practice.

He and Andy had again talked to Joe about letting me into the band and had finally succeeded in convincing him. Mostly it was due to the outlook of being able to play lead guitar, Joe´s favorite position. Favorite position in the vertical, I mean.

To appease Joe´s skepticism Andy had me ´try out´, all three guys watching as the fingers of my left hand danced over the fret board and my right hand hit the strings with and without a pick as well as slap them. Joe called out the title of a different song - I had been given a special-made mix CD with songs that I had to learn for the ´audition´ that Patrick had burned - every 30 seconds in order to find a bass line that I would screw up. With all modesty, even his eyes widened in amazement as I started tinkling "Maxwell Murder" and displayed a yawn to show off.

Andy, clapping as I was done, had told Joe, "Not even a former pothead like yourself can have possibly lost so many brain cells that you wouldn´t realize that not having Sheena in the band would be a crime against the band´s self-improvement!"

Patrick nodded eagerly, "I´m not sure about the remaining brain cells though."

Joe flipped him off, "Alright, alright. She´s in."

Unplugging my instrument, I thanked him, "Glad I could convince you."

He gave me a smile that I couldn´t quite interpret; was ist honest, was it fake, was it the silly remainder of having been a pothead? "Yeah, just don´t fuck up." Then he pointed at Andy, "It´s your fault if this fails."

This had happened some days ago. By now, Joe had cooled down about "the chick in the band" and, if you´ll excuse the lame phrasing, had ceased being the dick in the band.

At the time being Patrick was still waiting for my reply concerning my Halloween plans.

"Ah, nothing special. I´ll just hang out at home, watch some horror flicks. I´m a sucker for Freddy Krueger."

"Alone?", Andy stared at me with disbelief.

"No, not at all," I shook my head, "I´ll have my ever trusty buddies Pete Pizza, Mary Mountain Dew and a bunch of chocolate covered friends at my side."

"God, that´s lame," Patrick teased me. "And if I say that it means it´s really lame."

"Couldn´t agree with you more there, Pat in the Hat," Joe commented, earning a mad glare from our singer. "We watch movies here, you should come over."

"And bring some of your friends," Andy winked at me.

"Only I´m kinda stuck at my place," I informed them about what the kids of my class had planned.

Patrick exhaled loudly, "Geeeez. None of those kids will show up later than 7 or 8 PM tops. Come over when the last one´s paid you a visit."
"But come in a costume or you´ll be smothered in rotten eggs," Andy cracked.

"Dang, there goes my idea for a costume."

_ _ _ _ _


When I arrived at Joe and Patrick´s apartment on October, 31st the guys had set up a buffet that would have made the older fat Elvis throw up and my school children shout out in glee. It was a match of the greasy vs. the sweet. In the end they both got their ass kicked by the sugary AND fat stuff.

"Behold, today´s candy fest and tomorrow´s diarrhea," Joe presented the table with the food.

He had a pirate´s hat on and a stuffed parrot stuck to his right shoulder. Patrick had slung on a white straitjacket that had holes on the shoulders so he could stick his arms through them. That looked pretty neat. However, my heart skipped a beat when Andy showed up about one minute after my arrival. He was wearing a red and black striped sweater and a huge glove with five plastic blades.

"Look! It´s Andy Krueger. Vegan by day, human meat slaughterer by night," Patrick greeted his pal.

"Please do take off the horrible mask though, matey," Joe teased him. Andy wasn´t wearing a mask.

The boy ignored the insult and looked at me, "Now where´s your costume, Sheena?"

"Oh, right," I rummaged through my bag and finally found what I was looking for. I pulled out an old cap of mine, placed it on my head and proudly proclaimed, "I´m going as Patrick."

All three guys laughed, Patrick pretending to be a little hurt at first.

We had a blast throughout the evening and night. We watched several bad horror flicks, even some Nightmare on Elm Street movies. I forced the guys to watch the scene where Freddy uses one kid as a puppet, my favorite scene, three times in a row until Andy mumbled in disgust, "If I hadn´t refused to eat meat a long time ago I sure would from now on."

At some point Joe left us to meet up with Jordan. The other two men and I watched a couple of the Simpson´s Treehouse of Horror episodes to calm Andy´s mind. Really, that guy couldn´t stand the sight of blood, let alone spilled guts at all. He had let out a couple of girly squeaks in the course of the movie session and therefore practically volunteered to become the laughing stock of the rest of us.

Around 4 AM Andy and I said good night to Patrick and got into the guy´s car. On the drive home Andy was yakking how great it was that I had joined the band and that he had a feeling that this would turn things around for them. I was flattered to no end and bathed in his compliments.

When he stopped the car in front of my house, he placed his hand on mine and said, "I´m so glad you tried out for Joyce´s band. Really. I don´t know if you believe in fate but this is perfect proof of it."

At the cheesiness of the last line I pinched myself. Just in case. The last time I had heard crap like that I had woken up with a twisted arm and an ill-nourished libido.

Nah. It was real, alright. I was telling him how I enjoyed playing music with them and that I loved what Patrick had come up with for the bass. Then I paused and considered the signs I believed to have detected coming from Andy.

He had been extremely friendly and kind to me from day one. He had not only complimented my bass skills but fought until I was accepted to his band. He had laughed with me, had tried to make me laugh. He had invited me to his room and had let me sleep on his couch. He had dressed up like Freddy Krueger after I had admitted that I loved that character.

Give me some chaps, heave me onto a horse and call me cowgal, I think this guy likes me.

"Andy?" His hand was still resting on mine, "I was wondering... would you care to hang out sometime? I mean, just the two of us?"

"You mean like jamming out? Just the backbone of the band: bass and drums?"

I cursed myself for having given this such a clumsy start. "I was thinking of a date that´s not necessarily related to music."

"Did you just say ´date´?"

I nodded.

"Like a DATE date?", he looked amused. I was not.

Then his facial expression changed, giving him a serious look. He slowly removed his hand while talking, "Ok. I take complete credit for this situation. I´m sorry if I´ve let out the wrong signals but I don´t have any romantic feelings for you whatsoever... Thinking back, I can see how you got the wrong impression though." He looked at me, sadly. "I´m sorry, Sheena."

I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened te door. I was in trance, it was like a movie. Unfortunately there was no ugly green and slimy monster that lurked in the shadows ready to attack me. No pale bloodthirsty vampire dangling from the lamp post next to the car. I got out and before I slammed the door I said, "It´s ok. I thought asking wouldn´t hurt, ya know."

Andy looked guilty, "But it does, right?"

"Nevermind," I was holding back the embarrassing tears that were forming in my eyes, "I´ll see you at practice on Friday." Then I stormed off to my apartment.

I heard Andy yelling after me but I didn´t turn or even stop.

Cowgal needed to be alone.