Deathskull Bombshell (16 page)

“Where the hell is dinner?” Grandma Roche
said, not one for sentimentality.

Alex cooked up grilled organic
peanut-butter-and-banana-and-honey sandwiches, his favorite. They
all sat at the dinner table, chewing through the salty burnt taste
and the peanut butter texture. One of the nice things about Alex,
when he wasn’t being a pest, he liked to keep the peace. Organic
peanut butter stuck to the roof of everybody’s mouth, forcing them
to talk only when necessary.

It took Grandma Roche a while to stop asking
who everybody was. Her eyesight was so bad that she couldn’t
recognize people, except by their voices. She hadn’t seen Nick in
over a decade. He was like a whole new person to her. Gradually,
she took to calling everybody “hey, you”, or “hey, asshole” when
she felt like being rude, which was often.

Brooke slept on the couch and met up with
Elizabeth Ericksen for an awkward conversation over hoagies. They
were only staying for a week, she promised.

Then they missed their flight.

One week turned into two weeks. Nick was glad
to have a job. It was nice to get away from home.

. Brooke wore on his nerves, like sisters
do.

One night, after cheeseburgers and garlic
mashed potatoes, when everyone settled in to watch television, she
motioned to Nick to speak with her privately in the kitchen. He
hated to miss the evening news, but the look on her face said
something was up.

He walked over to her. “What?” he asked, once
they were out of earshot.

She sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“Leaving you like that,” she said. She looked
out the window, then back at Nick. She was starting to get a cold,
he could tell. Sniffling a few boogers back, she wiped at her face.
“I had some stuff I had to deal with.”

“I know, dude,” Nick said. “You were
pregnant. You told me already.”

“What? No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, you did.”

She blinked rapidly, with a worried
expression on her face. “When did I tell you that?”

“When you first got here. You were kind of
drunk,” he said. He scratched an itch on his chin, then looked at
his hand. The ring still surprised him when he noticed it.

“Oh,” she said. “Right.” She paused, then
looked at her fingernails, dark green nail polish. “Are you
mad?”

“Of course not,” Nick said. He narrowed his
eyes. There was some melted cheese on the counter. Always
something. He grabbed a sponge, adding dish detergent. “I’d
probably run away too, if it were me. I was mad for a long time,
dude. You scared the shit out of me. But I got over it.”

“I thought you hated me,” she said.

“Nah, I can’t,” Nick said. He scrubbed at the
melted cheese, not looking her in the face. “Wish I could, but I
can’t.”

“I suppose that’s as close to a kind word as
I’ll ever get from you,” she said.

He laughed. “Don’t push your luck.”

She shoved him, then, and he fell over. He
was such a lightweight. Never could handle his wine.

“Hey, guys,” Austin called from the couch,
“no hate crimes over there. I haven’t gotten my Criminal Justice
degree yet.”

“Oh, are you pre-law?” Brooke asked, looking
over at him with raised eyebrows.

“No,” Austin said. He slouched in his seat.
“I mean, yes. Kind of. I guess.”

“He just goes to the library on his days off
work to read college textbooks,” Alex said, mouthful of tofu
burger. “He likes LSAT study guide books the best though. Isn’t
that funny? I think he’s got a crush on one of the librarians.”

“Does nobody read for fun anymore?” Austin
asked, blushing.

“All the time,” Parker said.

“I think they just like making fun of you,”
Brooke said. She smiled at him.

“Maybe you should read self-help books,” Alex
said. He took a sip of his organic fruit-vegetable juice. “I hear
they help a person develop a sense of humor.”

“Your face is a sense of humor,” Austin
said.

“What?” Alex said. “That’s the worst insult
I’ve ever heard.”

“You’re the worst insult I’ve ever
heard.”

They glared at each other.

A piece of plaster fell from the ceiling. It
landed between the two of them.

“What was that?” Nick asked.

“Pirates,” Alex said, to be funny. Just then,
a gnarled old man wandered into the living room from upstairs. He
wore a ratty old shirt, torn and faded. His teeth were a decaying
mess. He had one glass eye. The other eye was merely a socket, a
black hole in his weathered old face.

Parker stared at the eye socket, wondering
what it led to. Who was this mysteriously creepy man?

“And who might you be?” the old man said to
all of them, in a gravelly high-pitched accent. “Why might you be
taking up space on me ship?”

“Your ship?” Nick asked. “Your ship? This is
my house.”

“Then ye be the landlard?” the man said.

Nick furrowed his brow. “Well, no, but the
real landlord is… hm.” He paused. “Where is she?”

“She who?” the man asked. He rubbed his hands
together. “There be women on this ship?”

“It’s not a ship,” Brooke said.

The old man pointed a rusty sword at Brooke.
It was a real sword, serrated, mean-looking. “Shut up, cabin boy,
or I’ll make ye walk the plank!”

Brooke closed her mouth.

“Nick’s not the landlord,” Parker said. He
bravely stepped in front of Nick, facing the old man. “I’m the
landlord.”

Nick sighed, shaking his head. He stepped in
front of Parker. “No, I’m the landlord.”

“Neither of you assholes are the landlord!”
yelled Grandma Roche from upstairs. Austin had installed a PA
system for her, so she wouldn’t have to worry about anything, but
she was prone to abusing the privilege. “I’m the landlord!” She
stomped out from the guest room, where she’d been working on Sudoku
puzzles. “Now will everybody please shut up? I’m trying to
concentrate!”

“Ay, forgive me,” the old man said, “but ye
have a rather poorly-organized group here. I suspect they be up to
no good. Ay, they’ll probably stage a mutiny behind yer back when
ye least expect it.”

“Good!” Grandma Roche said. “You boring
fucks! You had the whole house to yourselves for years and you
never threw a single goddamn party!” She coughed and hacked.

“Hey,” Nick said. “Grandma. Chill out.”

“I ought to call your mother,” she said.
“Treating a guest like that. You never even offered him a water!
And lying! To an old man! Where are your manners?”

“Yaar, where be yer mannerisms?” The old man
sneered at Nick. “I oughta make every single one of ye walk the
plank for yer blatant disrespect.” He pointed the rusty sword at
everybody, taking time to linger over each person, allowing them to
notice the fat maggot crawling out of his empty eye socket. It fell
to the floor. He picked the maggot up and stuck it in his
mouth.

“Um, begging your pardon,” Parker asked, “but
would you happen to be dead?”

“Arr! Insulting!” the old man said,
straightening up his bent vertebrae and puffing out his chest. “I’m
un-dead, thank ye for asking! The name’s Captain Fishbeef!”

“Nice to meet you,” Brooke said.

“Shut up, cabin boy!”

Brooke frowned.

“Well, Mister Captain Fishbeef,” Parker said,
“you do understand this is the land of the living, and not the
undead, correct? And also that it is not a ship?”

“What?” Captain Fishbeef said. His glass eye
blinked a few times in confusion. The eyelid made a weird sticky
noise each time. “Looks like a ship to me!”

“No, see, actually this is a house,” Parker
said. “You’re on the wrong existential plane. The undead pirate
ships are a few hours over, in Minnesota.”

“Oh, damn,” Captain Fishbeef said. He sighed
heavily and put his sword back in its scabbard. He scratched at his
cranium. “I feel quite the scoundrel.”

“You are,” Nick said.

“Sorry.”

Parker stood next to Captain Fishbeef. He
grabbed the Captain’s bony arm and his skeletal, flea-bitten hands,
pointing with Captain Fishbeef’s own hand out the door, so the old
man could understand, even with his glass eye. Parker suspected the
glass eye was some sort of real eye, but years of undead
shenanigans had warped it into what appeared to be glass.

“Well, Minnesota’s that way,” he said. “Go
out the door and take a left. Follow the sidewalk until you get to
West Street Boulevard Avenue, and from there, turn a right. Keep
going right. You’ll get to a gas station where you can buy a ticket
for the bus, and they’ll take you to Minnesota. Once you get there,
wait until the bus driver reports you’ve arrived at Lake
Superior.”

“Ay, a lake,” Captain Fishbeef said, nodding
to himself. “A superior lake.”

“Yes,” Parker said. “That’s where they keep
the undead pirates.”

“I see,” Captain Fishbeef said. “Well, thank
you, dear boy.” He clasped Parker’s hand with his skeletal hand
shape. A shred of flesh hung off his knuckles, and he scratched at
it. “I suppose I’ll be going now.”

“Okay, bye,” Nick said, trying not to gag at
the smell as Captain Fishbeef staggered outside in search of
Minnesota.

They waited to make sure he was really
gone.

“Man, who was that guy?” Austin asked.

“Never met him,” Brooke said. She paused. “I
think he just got lost.”

“Shut up, cabin boy,” Nick said, and she
pushed him again.

And that was the end of that story.

There were more stories later, about
Valentine’s Day, and Halloween, and the wedding, not to mention the
honeymoon. But some stories are better off described only in epic
poetry books or smarmy romance novels, neither of which fit the
scope of this publication.

For everything, there is a time and a
place.

But if you really wanted to know, it’s true.
Captain Fishbeef made it back to the land of the undead pirates,
and Nick O’Doole married Parker Beloit, and everybody lived happily
ever after.

First I’d like to thank my friends. You are
such great people and I hope life brings you all the love and
success you deserve. Special mentions for Derrick, Linda, Zac,
Bridget, Mike, Addie, Kyle, Kayt, Elizabeth, Heather, Joel, Adam,
Tamee, and Veronica. Thank you for your kindness. May prosperity
follow you wherever you go.

Furthermore, I owe a note of gratitude to
everyone who ever called me retarded, slutty, or fat, and anyone
who said my life would never amount to anything. You guys helped me
learn to move forward even in the face of opposition. Never accept
anything as truth without considering the source.

I leave you with a quote from the philosopher
Aristotle: “It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to
entertain a thought without accepting it.”