Rules for Werewolves (16 page)

—I’m going to give you five minutes and then if I don’t have my keys back I’m going to call the police.

—Ow. You fucking hit hard. What does my face look like today? I haven’t looked in a mirror yet. What will the cops have to say about that?

—You told me to.

—I bet I fucking
dared
you to. And you did it. Look at that. Every time you hit me I put my hands closer to the edge of the bed where I hid whatever I hid.

—I have to go to work.

—I wonder if what I hid under the bed is still there.

—Go look. Is it my keys?

—Holy shit—It’s a fucking knife. It looks sharp.

—You were into what we were doing last night.

—I still am. Only it’s not over.

—What do you want?

—Why don’t you sit down. And hey … why don’t you put the cuffs on, too? Why not?

—What are you going to do?

—I’m gonna take your cell phone out of my pants pocket and hold it up to your ear while you call in sick to work today. And then we’re going to record over what we did last night with what we’re going to do right now.

—Did you find anything yet?

—I haven’t found the combination to the safe, but I think I’ve found just about everything else in the world.

—They got so much cool stuff I didn’t know I wanted. Toys, clothes, books, DVDs.

—I can’t even make up my mind what I wanna steal from ’em.

—Have you looked in the medicine cabinet in the master bedroom?

—No.

—I pulled all the pills from it, but the lotions alone would take you an hour to alphabetize.

—The little girl’s closet is something else.

—There must be a whole factory in China that stays in business ’cause of her.

—Did you see their pantry?

—Bobert would have loved his new room in this house.

—What about it?

—There are two rows of shelves. The front row is on rollers like one of those sliding puzzles. You can move them out of the way to get what’s on the back row. But the back row is so deep, Bobert could have made
his bed back there and been double protected by the door and the rolling shelves.

—Or he could have had a guest room.

—I gotta go see this superpantry.

—Bring us back some Pop-Tarts, Anquille!

—Meet us in the master bedroom!

—I love this house. It’s so, so, so cool.

—You think everything is cool.

—I already moved all the drawers in the master bedroom.

—I just wanna hang out in there. It’s just a fun place to hang out.

—I swear the bed is bigger than a king size.

—What’s bigger than a king size?

—Obese size.

—Emperor size.

—Nero size.

—Oh, gross. Look what I found.

—Is that a used condom?

—Well, they
do
have a sixteen-year-old daughter. She’s having trouble with Jeff, but she doesn’t want to dump him until she knows for sure if Dylan is into her. Dylan is a total unicorn. OMG.

—That journal should be one of the things we take with us. That could keep us entertained for days.

—So do you think this condom is full of Jeff or Dylan?

—Put it down.

—Where?

—Oh, gross. It’s leaking.

—How old is that?

—Not that old. It still has juice in it.

—Throw it under the bed.

—That’s disgusting.

—Where’d you find it?

—Right on the dresser. Right there.

—You’re right. It’s a shame Bobert’s not here to join in all the fun.

—Bobert didn’t go back home. He wouldn’t. I know.

—Where else is he gonna go?

—Salvation Army.

—He’d hit the road. Go West.

—He did go home. Bobert wrote his home address down for Malcolm.

—Bobert told me his stepdad was a complete and raging asshole. He wouldn’t go home. I’m telling you.

—But he has a younger brother.

—You think Bobert went home to get his brother?

—I think he went home because Malcolm destroyed his PlayStation.

—We should steal his address from Malcolm and write him and let him know where we are.

—That’s why Malcolm made him write it down. He’s going to write Bobert in a month. But until a month is up Bobert is banished for helping Angel.

—Helping Angel what?

—Helping Angel set you free and messing up your change.

—That’s bullshit.

—Malcolm isn’t the fucking CEO of us.

—We’re all digging through the house, looking for the combination. Why are we doing it? ’Cause Malcolm said so. So don’t be so sure who your CEO is.

—You’re right. This is bullshit. I’m gonna go back to the last house, before things got fucked up, and live on my own. Fuck Malcolm.

—Don’t you want to find the combination and get a free wish?

—Fuck that. This is my wish. To do what I want, when I want to. Anybody wanna go with me?

—I’ll go.

—You guys are fucking stupid.

—

—They’re fucking stupid.

—Why?

—If they would keep looking for the combination then they could wish us all back to the old house.

—They could wish Bobert back, too. That’d be cool.

—Too late.

—What?

—Look what I found in the pantry—

—It better be Pop-Tarts, Anquille.

—What is it?

—It’s a set of instructions for the maid who comes every Wednesday.

—Bullshit.

—It was up on the top shelf of the pantry.

—I was in the pantry.

—Next to the applesauce.

—I hate applesauce.

—That’s why you didn’t find it.

—It’s got the numbers to reach them in Israel. And it’s got the neighbors’ numbers. And the alarm code.

—There’s an alarm?

—It’s off.

—No shit, Sherlock.

—But the instruction manual notes: There’s a “personal panic-button key fob” in the second drawer down of the credenza in the vestibule. And some Mace.

—What’s a vestibule?

—But the book is wrong. The key fob and the Mace are in the third drawer down now.

—Haha.

—I hope they do come home and I hope they do panic.

—What’s a credenza?

—That’s the part in the music when everyone stops playing so the main person can just solo.

—Haha.

—Don’t be such a prep-school dick. She’s asking because she doesn’t know. You’re trying to make her feel bad for exposing that. In fact, you’re trying to double that bad feeling by giving her the definition of another word she doesn’t know. But
nobody
knows every word. There are so many more words than one person can carry around. Asking what something means is how words travel. No, seriously. A dictionary is like an orphanage. When she asks what it means, she’s adopting that word. That’s a good thing. All right? I don’t want to ever hear you make any of us feel stupid for asking what a word means again, or else I’m gonna jaw-jack you.

—I get it. You want me to ask what jaw-jack means and then you’re going to hit me.

—I’m gonna hit you either way. You might as well learn something.

—What’s a jaw-jack?

—Ow.

—A credenza is like a long, low chest of drawers.

—Stop fucking around.

—What else is in that instruction manual?

—Then there’s the names of the people at the security company and the passwords, and then look. The combination to the safe!

—No fucking way?!

—You win, Anquille. You win.

—Wait. Wait. Wait.

—What?

—What day is it?

—It’s a Wednesday.

—Does it say what time the maid comes?

—Everybody down to the basement. Now! Everybody. We’re gonna get the safe open ASAP and then we’ll figure out what to do about the maid.

—What do you mean “figure out what to do about the maid”? If we get the safe open we can shoot her.

—Come on, baby. Quick. Down to the basement.

—Malcolm, what about the dog?

—Leave it. For now. Maybe she’ll bark when the maid shows up and give us a warning. Hurry up. Is that everybody?

—Where’s Tom?

—I think he took a walk.

—You’re fucking kidding me.

—No, I think he and the newest kid wanted to go back to the old neighborhood.

—That’s just fucking perfect!

Smash. Smash. Smash. Smash. Smash.

—Calm down, Malcolm.

—You’re right. All right. Let me get to the safe. Where’s Anquille?

—I’m right here.

—Shut the door. If anybody opens that door from the outside, grab whoever it is, drag the body down the stairs to the center of the room, and then I want to see all of you hitting and kicking it until it stops screaming.

—What if it’s Tom and Carl?

—Fuck Tom and Carl. They shouldn’t have gone wandering off without permission.

—Now we have to get permission to take a walk?

—Of course you do! Of course you do!

—Calm. Be calm.

—All right, Anquille, why don’t you read me the number from the book and we’ll see if you have the winning combination!

—Why does Malcolm get to do the combination?

—What the fuck do you care?

—Why are you always sticking up for him, Tanya?

—Malcolm and Tanya are married now.

—When two werewolves drink nothing but each other’s sweat for three days they become bonded for life—

—Shut the fuck up so I can concentrate. And back the fuck up so I can see. I can’t see shit.

—Calm down, baby. Back up and give Malcolm a little light to work by. Back up.

—I still don’t see why he gets to do the combination!

—
I
found the combination. It’s
mine
. It belongs to
me
. And
I
say Malcolm can do the opening.

—Now you’ve got Anquille sticking up for you.

—He wants to get married, too.

—Three-way marriage!

—The combination is 84-87-12.

—Is that what you’re gonna wish for, Anquille?

—I dunno.

—You should wish that every single one of us gets placed into a passionate, nurturing three-way marriage.

—Are we divisible by three?

—They can be interlocking. Anquille will be married to Tanya and Malcolm. Malcolm will be married to Tanya and Susan. Susan will be married to Tom and me.

—I’m not marrying you.

—Don’t worry about it ’cause that’s not what I’m wishing for.

—I wish that you would wish that everyone would shut the fuck up.

—I might.

—You know there are people who pay money to go somewhere quiet for a weekend, like a silent retreat, where no one’s allowed to talk?

—That would suck.

—We’ll see. I haven’t made my wish yet.

—Well, Anquille, I’m afraid you may not get to make a wish.

—What do you mean, Malcolm?

—This combination’s no good. I tried it and the safe didn’t open. It doesn’t work.

—How can it not work?

—Maybe it’s like a code or something. Maybe you have to add one to each number. So the real combination is 85-88-13. Maybe that’s why they were so cavalier about writing it down and leaving it in a notebook lying around the house where any common burglar could find it.

—You’re probably right, baby.

—Shut up, Tanya. It’s embarrassing to watch you two work.

—Have you read the whole book? Has anybody read through this whole notebook? Maybe there’s some page in it where it tells us to add one to every number?

—Or maybe there’s another set of instructions hidden somewhere else in the house that tells us how to read this set of instructions.

—This sucks! I hate this! I hate it!

—Don’t get angry. Just try it again.

—It’s 84-87-12.

—All right. Back up. Jesus.

—What does “cavalier” mean?

—Everybody just be quiet—please—while he tries again.

—Is that your wish?

—Anquille doesn’t get his wish if the combination’s no good.

—It’s just a practice, to see what it would be like if we were all silent and we let Malcolm concentrate.

—

—

—

—It still doesn’t work?!

—No.

—This total fucking bullshit!

—Calm down, Anquille. Let me try one more time.

—

—84.

—

—87.

—

—12.

—Nothing.

—No guns for us, I guess.

—So I don’t get my wish?!

—You just would’ve wasted it on making everybody be quiet.

—You don’t know what I’m gonna wish for.

—You’re not gonna wish for anything. The combo doesn’t work.

—Do the different codes. Add one to every number.

—We don’t have time. We have other shit to worry about. The notebook says the maid is coming today.

—If we figure out the code and get the guns we don’t have to worry about her.

—That’s not gonna happen. If we can’t get the guns we need a new plan of action and we need it quick. Listen. Everybody. Here’s what we’re gonna do. One, we go upstairs and we make things shipshape. Everybody pick a room and clean it up. Sleeping bags and clothes all get put into closets or under the beds. Two, then we meet in the living room and get our story straight. We’ll figure out something to tell the maid that will get her to leave us alone.

—Maybe we should all get out of the house for the day?

—Or we could all hide.

—Wouldn’t that be fucking creepy?! A maid just doing whatever she does—wandering from room to room, half-assed dusting—

—watering the plants—

—sweeping—

—while
unbeknownst to her
, in every closet, someone’s hiding—

—and we’ve all taken a vow of silence—

—we’ve all sworn to one another that if she opens the door and finds one of us, we’ll grab her and drag the body downstairs screaming—

—and everyone will come running to the living room to attack her—

—and each of us has a different weapon, a steak knife, or a golf club—

—or a hammer—