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“Damn it! She knows we have to go over billing today,” Valeska hissed, leaving the room.
“Why don’t we go upstairs, and I’ll show you to your room,” Marija said, reaching for my hand. I grabbed my bag and quickly barged ahead of her. I was at that age when you still secretly believe that crazy is contagious.
“Oh, ok… it’s the second door on the right,” she called up to me. I found the room and barricaded myself in the closet. I pulled out a few comic books, along with Esperanza’s picture.
“Is all this some kind of joke?” Esperanza’s grand piano grin seemed like an admission of guilt.
“Well, the shit ain’t funny!” I screamed, throwing the picture back in my bag. She always could take a joke too far, like the time she told me that if you swallow watermelon seeds, watermelons would grow in your stomach. I swallowed a handful of them, just to prove that I didn’t believe her. The next day I woke up in a bed full of watermelons and green paint on my stomach. Just as I started to cry, she came in laughing like one of those retarded hyenas from the Lion King.
“Why are you laughing?” I sobbed.
“Too keep from crying,” she replied, before explaining to me her hijinks. She always thought that a few giggles beat a handful of Percocet any day. I spent the rest of the afternoon just lost in my anger and jungle full of zombie bounty hunters. Around six o’clock, a conglomeration of food smells wafted their way into my makeshift fort. I checked my watch, and I couldn’t believe that no one had checked in on me for so long. Obviously, these women hadn’t caught wind of all the fuckery associated with recycled kids. I inched my way down the hall, until I came to a kitchen that doubled as some sort of freaky art gallery. In between the usual kitchen clutter were statues of bazooka toting fairies, a picture of some poet lady being attacked by flies, and a five foot statue of a woman wearing greasy overalls. All three of them had their backs turned when I came in.
“He’s going to love it,” Raven giggled, turning around with a giant tower of waffles.
“Speak of the sprite!” The other two quickly turned to join her.
“You’re just in time for the feast. I was going to come get you, but Valeska thought we should let your stomach page you,” Marija said, balancing a plate full of spaghetti. Her sister just grunted at the mention of her name. The table was set for five, but there was enough food to feed fifty.
“Great… dinner and a freak show,” I whispered in between my teeth.
“We didn’t know what you liked… Sooooooooo we made everything,” Raven sang. She slid a chair under me and pushed me to the table. Marija began heaping piles of spaghetti and hash browns onto my plate. Valeska had already started to devour a steak that still appeared to have a pulse. Raven grimaced and poked angrily at her salad and tofu cubes.
“Don’t mind her, Ezekiel! She’s just a rare breed of lion that’s learned to walk upright,” Raven laughed. Valeska quickly cut a piece of her steak and threw it on my plate.
“Spare us your Vegetarian propaganda! Meat is good for your brain,” she said, with authority. Raven pretended to hack up a very dramatic hairball.
“That’s why tofu for brains over here can’t even balance her own check book,” Valeska whispered to me. She licked some of the blood off her fingers.
“Let Ezekiel decide what he wants to eat,” Marija said. She brought me over a few extra napkins. The doorbell downstairs interrupted the debate with a few bars of “She’ll be Coming Around the Mountain.”
“That must be Char!” Marija laughed, hurrying down the hallway. Moments later the main event arrived.
“Well, there’s our little man!” I turned to see a six-foot black figure wearing red leggings, a leopard print blouse, and a scarf that flimsily hid the largest damn Adam’s apple that I had ever seen.
“This is Chardonnay Robinson. She’s going to be running our New Age Health Clinic,” Marija said.
“She?” I asked, eyeing the black question mark from head to toe. Valeska snorted and Raven quickly kicked her under the table.
“That’s ok, boo! Pronouns always confuse me too,” he said, scooting a chair right into my personal space bubble.
“Speaking of confusion, why don’t you clear up mine? Where the hell have you been all day!” Valeska shouted.
“Vlad…Vlad…Vlad… Why must you always assume that Missus Robison doesn’t have your back? I’ve been out promoting our little establishment all day.”
“Talking to your little chew toys down at the Cubby Hole doesn’t count!” Then, with a loud click of his teeth Char dug into his pleather Prada knock off for a stack of pink flyers.
“How delightful,” Marija beamed, taking one.
“You’ve really outdone yourself, right… Valeska?” she said, handing her sister one.
“Right…I can’t help but notice that only your services are in bold,” Valeska replied. She crumpled it up into wad of glitter and exclamation points.
“Well, maybe if you put a sista on the damn sign,” he replied. Valeska jumped up and growled, “We’ve been over this a million times! When you bring in enough customers then we’ll talk,” she said, heading for the back door.
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About Christina Ginfrida
