AND THEN THINGS GOT HAIRY: By Chris Allinotte
Thursday, April 29th, 2010LYCANTHROPY Contestant
Oh. My. God. Tiffany, Marcus is so GROSS,” said Chelsea.
She walked into the kitchen, wireless phone pinned snugly between shoulder and ear.
Tiffany was watching TV and snacking loudly on cheese puffs, but replied, “Like, why? He’s got a totally bitchin’ bod.”
Chelsea was rooting through the fridge, “I KNOW, he’s buff, but he’s all HAIRY and junk. Like, I just thought it was his arms and everything, but he wore a tank top …”
Tiffany gave the appropriate response, “Eww. A tank top, on a first date? Were you at the beach?”
“As if!” Chelsea said indignantly.
“No, we went to a movie. Me and him and his hairy, stinky body.”
“Stinky? Barf me out Chelsea! No WAY he’s stinky too.” Tiffany’s voice was hard to make out with the obscene amount of crunching going on.
“Tiff? Are you trying to like, make me deaf? As IF you’re chewing louder than a horse, right in my, like, ear.” Chelsea moved aside a grody looking casserole that Mom had left, but it was all lentils and beans and junk. Ick.
“ Oh my god, you’re being a total RAG.” Tiffany sounded hurt, but the crunching slowed to a dull roar, “So what movie did he take you to anyway?”
Chelsea was inspecting half a bacon cheeseburger, but she thought it might be a week old. God, she was so hungry. It was making it hard to think.
“Chelse? Are you still there?” , said Tiffany, still chewing.
Chelsea was totally starving; it was making it hard to think, but she replied, “I don’t know, some slasher movie thing. The guy was all burned and gross, like OBVIOUS rubber mask. Marcus totally put his arm around me at the jumpy parts.”
Tiffany gave another, “Eww. And that’s when you noticed he was stinky? Right?”
Chelsea was busy taking stuff out for a sandwich, and started nodding into the phone before she realized what she was doing, “Totally Tiff. You know what he smells like? Remember when Tango got stuck outside last summer, like when you guys went out and left him in the yard, and it was totally nice out, but then it rained for like, the whole afternoon, and then you got home and he’d been in the rain like, all day? Marcus smells like that.” She surveyed the counter and realized that none of the food looked appealing; though her cat Buddy had jumped up to make up his own mind.
Chelsea became aware of silence on the other end, and said, “Tiff?”
Tiffany didn’t answer for a long moment. In the distance, Chelsea thought she could hear singing. There was a sound of fumbling, and Tiffany’s voice came flooding back, “Sorry Chelse, I’m watching Friday Night Videos, and they’re playing Material Girl, and they just got to the good part. What did you say again?”
Chelsea sighed; she would like, drop dead if she didn’t eat something soon. “You’re such a cow, Tiff. Wet dog. He smells like wet dog.” She started stroking Buddy. He felt extra soft and warm tonight.
Tiffany made her gagging sound that had stopped being cool like, last month, “Tell me you got out of there, like, pronto.”
Chelsea stayed non-committal, choosing to go with, “Umm.”
Tiffany started spluttering around a mouthful of snack food. When she had recovered her breath, she squealed, “No WAY Chelsea. Why did you stay if he was totally gross?”
Buddy was staring at Chelsea now. His green eyes were like green mirrors in the reflected light of the still-open refrigerator. He suddenly hissed and tried to get free. Chelsea held him tight; she didn’t want him to leave just yet. She could smell him now too, and her stomach rumbled again. She eyed the baloney on the counter. Nah.
It was Tiffany’s turn to be impatient, “Chelse? Chel-SEA? Are you THERE? Like, where do you keep going?”
Buddy was spitting now, and digging his little claws in; but it didn’t hurt, “Tiff. Take a chill-pill, I’m like right here. I stayed at the movie because, I dunno, he was gross and junk, but I just kind of felt like staying. Weird, huh?” The cat was frantic now, Chelsea could feel its little body twisting this way and that in her grasp.
Tiffany asked her, “What’s that sound Chelse?”
“It’s just Buddy, he’s in heat.”
That seemed to satisfy her friend, “Well, did you make out with him then?” Munch. Crunch.
Caught off guard, the truth came in a blurt, “Yeah, a little.”
Her friend squealed again, “You SKANK! How far did he get?” The high pitch hurt Chelsea’s ears, and she almost dropped the phone out from her shoulder, which was starting to itch.
“Not far. He gave me a ginormous hickey though. I think he broke the skin. Hey Tiffy? I gotta go get something to eat. If I don’t get some food like, right now, I’m totally going to waste away and die. Kay?”
“Kay. But this is SO not over. See ya.” Tiffany hung up.
Chelsea tightened her grip on Buddy’s calico sides, she was salivating. Gross. But kind of okay too — like her date. Marcus had been a biter, but that had kind of made up for his hairiness and stuff. She probably wouldn’t see him again. Probably. He was so weird; but after they’d kissed for a bit, she wasn’t so sure.
She liked him a little better now. So maybe.
Buddy wouldn’t stop yowling, so she squeezed his little voice box and made him stop. Her nails were totally bitchin’ today; they looked longer and thicker than ever. The phone finally dropped from her shoulder, and when she rubbed at the warm spot, Chelsea wasn’t totally surprised to find a thick patch of coarse blonde hair had sprouted there.
Deciding suddenly that she wanted some fresh air, Chelsea opened the back door, and walked out into the light of the full moon. The moon was SO rad. As she sunk her lengthening teeth into her midnight snack, Chelsea thought she could do a LOT of radical things under a moon like that.
Totally.
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©2010 Chris Allinotte
