“No. No. No. No. No. No,” Petronella enunciated with each bounce of her chair.

Jordan splattered her with green paint.  Then topped it off with a small splash of red.  Petronella kept bouncing, kept advancing.

Jordan walked backwards.  She aimed the remote and said, “Tell the truth Petronella.  The paint will not stop until you admit to your crimes.”

“I. Did. Not. Do. It.”  Bouncity bounce bounce.

Jordan hit the button labeled “rapid fire.”  Four streams of pulsating colors hit Petronella.  It was like she was standing under a colorful waterfall.  Petronella stopped bouncing.  Soon, she was a rainbow collage of colors.  She began to sob.

Jordan stopped firing.

Petronella hung her head, gasping for breath. “I give up,” she said weakly between sobs.  “I can take no more.  I surrender.”

Jordan handed the remote to Edison and said, “Admit it, Petronella.  You are jealous of Amy.”

“Yes,” Petronella said.  “Yes, I am jealous. Is that what you wanted to hear?”  She looked up, her eyes meeting Jordan’s.  “Can you blame me?  She has captured your attention.  You are in love with her.  I loved you once.  But you never loved me back.”

Jordan opened her mouth to disagree, but Petronella interrupted.  “Oh, do not tell me you loved me, Jordan.  I am a lot of things, but I am no fool.  I would have given anything to have you look at me the way you look at her.  All I ever wanted was your love.”  She looked away and sniffled.  “To be loved,” she said softly.  “Alas, it is not to be.  I shall perish, old and alone, wrinkled and shriveled.  The Ice Queen will never be warmed by another’s heart.”  She snuffled.

“Irma loves you,” a voice said.

Jordan looked toward the door.  It was Irma.  Jordan had been so engrossed in Petronella’s sob story, she hadn’t noticed Irma come in.

“What do you know about love?” Petronella sniffled.

“Irma knows a beautiful, talented woman when Irma sees one,” Irma said as she slowly approached Petronella.

Petronella met Irma’s gaze.  If she wasn’t mistaken, Jordan saw something in Petronella’s eyes, something that burned from deep within, a desire that hadn’t been there before, if ever.  Irma, the woman in black, gazed longingly at Petronella, the woman in white.  Well, she was usually all in white.  Right now, she was covered in colors.

Petronella said, “You are a strong, sexy Russian woman.  Why would you want me?”

Irma knelt before Petronella’s chair and placed her hands on Petronella’s knees.  “Irma wants to make love to you.  Irma wants to take care of you.  Irma wants to love and protect you for all time.  If you will have Irma?”

“Untie me,” Petronella whispered hoarsely with desire coloring her cheeks.  “Untie me and show me what it is to be loved so completely.”

Jordan whispered to Edison, “I think that’s our cue to leave.”

Edison nodded and whispered back.  “I just puked a little in my mouth.”

Jordan and Edison quietly left the room and shut the door on the new lovers.  “I think Petronella was telling the truth.”

“Me, too,” Edison said.

Jordan pulled the rubber ball out of her pocket and squeezed it.  “So if Petronella didn’t do all that stuff, who did?”


Lezebel

 

Amy was on her way to Chad’s room at the hospital.  She knew he would be held hostage by pain medication, so what better time to confront him about his unwanted advances?  “Unwanted advances” was the phrase Amy had substituted for what was really beginning to look like a severe case of stalking.  She was starting to think that Chad wasn’t only missing a finger, but was also missing a few of his marbles.

As Amy neared his room, she saw the twins, Veronica and Valerie, peering through the rectangular window of his door.  They were snickering and talking in hushed tones.  Unbeknownst to them, Amy peered over their shoulders and through the window.  Chad’s room was decorated entirely in lobster motif.

 Jeremy had been good on his word.  There were lobster lamps, nightlights, curtains, towels, blankets, throw rugs, and plastic/rubber lobsters everywhere.  Chad was lying in bed, tossing and turning, intermittently moaning and whining as he slept.  He was probably having a dream about giant lobsters chasing him.  At least Amy hoped he was.

“I’ve never seen anyone with so little pain tolerance,” Veronica whispered.  “He acts like he’s had major surgery.”

“It’s a finger not a pancreas,” Valerie said.

“I never figured him for such a pansy,” Amy said.  Her already low opinion of Chad was dropping as rapidly as a runaway elevator.

The twins parted, allowing Amy into Chad’s room.  She walked up next to his bed.  “Chad?”

He stopped whimpering and opened his eyes.  They were red and swollen. “Amy,” he breathed.  “I knew you’d come.”

“I love what you’ve done with the room,” she said.

“God, how I’ve missed your sense of humor.  I love the room.  I know you did it to make me feel better – like making lemons out of lemonade.”  He smiled and patted the bed beside him with his good hand.

Ignoring the gesture, Amy picked up his other hand and checked the bandage.

Chad said, “Will you still love me now that I have a freakish hand?”

“It’s a Mickey Mouse hand now,” Amy said.  “Cartoon characters only ever have three fingers.  You ever notice that?”

Chad tried to smile, then gave up.  “Was that supposed to make me feel better?”

Amy slid into doctor mode.  “The surgeon did a great job.  He says you should regain most of your mobility.  Do you have any feeling?”

“I feel your love for me.”  He gazed at her with unfocused eyes.  Amy realized he was completely and utterly looped.

“I meant do you have any tactile sensations in your finger,” she said.

He made a clumsy grab for her.  “Come here, I want to kiss you.  I want to marry you.  Amy, oh my beautiful Amy.”  He rolled toward her with outstretched arms.  Amy took a step back and Chad wobbled on the edge of the bed.  He teetered and then he tottered, caught in limbo between the safety of the bed and the danger of the hard floor.  Instinctively, Amy reached out to save him from falling.  But she was too late.  Chad tottered too far, and fell, taking her down with him.  She hit the floor first, cushioning his fall.

Lying prone of top of her, he looked into her eyes and said, “You little vixen.  You couldn’t even wait until I was released from the hospital.”

“I think I’m getting sick,” Amy said.  This position and Chad’s breath in her face brought back some very unpleasant memories.

“I knew you wanted me,” Chad said, nuzzling her neck.

“Get off of me.”  Amy struggled but she couldn’t budge him.

Amy heard the door swing open.  “Help me,” she muttered.

Jeremy’s face appeared over Chad’s shoulder.  “Whoa, get a room, you two.”

“Hey, buddy,” Chad said.  “I told you I’d get the girl.”

“Jeremy, please, get him off me,” Amy said, still struggling to free herself.

“What happened?” Jeremy dead lifted Chad to his feet.  Chad staggered and then went limp as a noodle.  A very big noodle.  Jeremy pushed him onto the bed.

Amy said, “He fell out of the bed.  I tried to catch him.”

“Next time just yell ‘timber’ and get out of the way,” Jeremy said.

Chad grabbed Jeremy’s hand, saying, “I love her, man.  She’s my everything.  I love her so friggin’ much.  I love her hair.  I love her eyes.  I love her breasts.”

“Whoaaaa there, big boy,” Jeremy said, interrupting him before he could add any more parts to the list.  “You’re talking about my roommate, Dude.”

“How much morphine did they give him?” Amy inquired.

Chad’s head bounced to Amy.  He smiled in surprise that she was still in the room. “Marry me, Amy.  Marry me.”  He looked back to Jeremy, saying, “Be my best dude at our wedding?”

“Sure thing.  I’m so there for you.” Jeremy put the bed rails up.  “It’s beddie-bye time, Dude.”

Amy leaned over the rail and took Chad by the chin.  She waited until his eyes focused, then said, “I can’t marry you.  I can’t be with you.  I can’t be your girlfriend and I can’t date you.  I came in here to tell you that.  Understand?”

“You’re so funny,” Chad said.  “I love your sense of humor.”  Then he closed his eyes with a big smile still on his face.

Amy sighed and turned to Jeremy.  “What am I going to do?  Nothing works.”

“He won’t remember any of this,” Jeremy said.  “You’ll have to try when he’s not so medicated.”  He opened the door just as Jordan was opening the door.  They collided, bouncing off each other.

“We have to stop running into each other like this,” Jeremy said.

Jordan laughed.  “Sorry.  I was looking for Amy.  A couple of twin nurses said she was in here.”

“Ah, she’s right here.”

Amy stepped forward.  “Jordan!  Hi!”

“I love you!  You’re my little love button,” the reawakened Chad yelled at her back.

Amy laughed nervously and pushed Jordan out of the room before she could get a good look at Chad, saying, “Don’t pay any attention to that patient.  He’s so drugged up he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

As the three of them stepped into the hall, Chad yelled, “Don’t leave.  That woman is a Jezebel.  She’s a lesbian.  She’s a Lezebel!”

Jeremy quickly shut the door.  He laughed and flapped his hand in Chad’s direction.  “Homeless dude.  Crazy.  Loco.”  He twirled his finger in little circles beside his temple.  “Cuckoo.”

“I’ll say,” Jordan said.  She smiled at Amy, “So, I just dropped by to see if you want to do lunch?”

“Sure,” Amy said.

Jordan looked at Jeremy.  “You know, Jeremy, I’d like it if you’d come too.  I haven’t really met any of Amy’s friends yet.”

Amy and Jeremy exchanged a look.  Jeremy clasped his hands under his chin.  “I promise to be good,” he said, making puppy dog eyes.

Amy laughed.  “Okay, but you’re buying.”

Jeremy rubbed his palms together.  “Deal.  But if I’m buying, we’re going to this new place I’ve been scoping out.”

“What’s it called?” Jordan asked.

“P.C.’s,” Jeremy said.

“Never heard of it,” Jordan said.

“It stands for politically correct.  It claims to have the smallest carbon footprint of any restaurant in the world.  It’s a gas.”  He paused then added, “Not literally a gas, you understand.”

Amy looked uncertain.  Jeremy and Jordan each took one of Amy’s hands, and in unison said, “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”


Zombie at the Restaurant

 

P.C.’s turned out to be housed in what was once a car dealership.  The entire front of the restaurant was glass and there was plenty of parking.  This was a bonus in a city with parking issues.  Amy wondered if that wasn’t the big draw to the place.  They’d taken Jeremy’s Buick Le Sabre, inherited from his grandmother.  They’d popped Jordan’s bike in the humongous trunk.

“I mean I love this car but I can hardly park it anywhere,” Jeremy said, sighing with relief as they parked easily.  “One of the bonuses of this restaurant.  Miles and miles of parking.  Who knew?”

“Yeah, but is the food any good?” Amy asked.

“We’ll soon find out,” Jeremy said.  They all got out of the car.  Jeremy lovingly patted the hood of the Buick.

Jordan said, “There are a lot of cars.  The food must be pretty decent.”

“There are a lot of BIG cars.  Doesn’t that sort of defeat the purpose?  An organic restaurant that attracts gas guzzlers because it has a huge parking lot,” Amy replied, as they walked to the restaurant which seemed to be a half a mile away from where they were parked.

“Not necessarily.  If the food is all sustainable and does positive things for the environment then the carbon footprint with the car thing brings it to the level of a Burger King,” Jordan said, as they passed into the slide glass doors.  “It’s kind of a wash.”

“I like how you think,” Jeremy said.

Jordan thought that the inside was exactly how you would expect a used car dealership turned restaurant to look – all chrome, glass and plastic.  Jordan took one look at the booths and chairs and joked, “You know how many naugahydes had to die to make this place?”

Amy giggled and put her hand over her mouth like a little kid in church.  Diners stopped chewing and scowled at them.

Jordan marveled about how everybody in the whole place was so solemn.  Obviously, being P.C. was serious business.  She set her face to serious mode and scowled back at the patrons.  Amy giggled again, then snorted behind her hand.

“Sorry,” Amy said.  “That happens sometimes when I laugh.”