Mom called, told me that she was going to the ER cause her back spasms just aren’t letting up and she’s finally run out of her hydros, or oxys or whatever pill the doctor she fucks gave her last week. That she fell down chasing Lancer and Suzy after they ran away to terrorize the cats and ransack through Ms. K’s trash with their yellow teeth, looking for some food or another owner that would treat them better. (Ever since Dad died I’ve helped her feed her dogs every morning because her back won’t let her get out of bed until noon, and the dogs get hungry before then. Sometimes I forgot to feed them). She told me she didn’t find the dogs the night that they ran away, but she left the doors open so they could come back inside. That an opossum came in, spent the night with her, and gobbled up her box of Hydrox cookies. She told me she woke up the next day to Ms. Del banging on the door. Lancer was with her. Mom said Ms. Del found the dogs in the pool when she went out to water her expensive hydrangeas, fertilize the fuchsias, and do this-and-this, all that, and so-and-so. (‘This-and-this, all that, and so-and-so’ is what old widowed women say when their vocabulary runs out). She told me that Suzy had a seizure and fell into the pool. That Lancer jumped in and tried to save Suzy, but he couldn’t swim well after getting his leg caught in some thorn bushes. So Suzy drowned. The pool was a deep red, almost black from all the blood. Mom said it looked like when you mix too much Kool-Aid in the water. I’m going to the ER, mom said again. Just sleep off, I told her. Okay, son, but if I don’t get better can you drive me to the ER? Yes, mom, I told her. I love you son, she said, I love you all the way to the stars, and the moon ball, and back aga—
“HENRY,” my boss said, “Get off the GODDAM phone and go get those beautiful pieces of tail some fucking waters!”
So I went to get those beautiful pieces of tail some fucking waters, and my god they were beautiful. Well, one of them. The other piece of tail looked like an old dishrag with pink hams for thighs, like she once had something good going for her, but got knocked up young and now works in retail. She was probably beautiful ten years ago, when beauty was something that still mattered to her. But none of that mattered now because her daughter had to be the most beautiful woman in town. She had that half sexy, half crazy spirit about her with a mesmerizing, mystical body to go with it. She moved like fire in the most mysterious ways. She stood on legs that kept going and going and going until you caught yourself looking too long and had to snap yourself out of it. Those legs could ruin a family, I thought. She had that kind of beauty that pitches a tent in your gut for a while, and it doesn’t leave until it gets what it wants. The kind that makes you jealous cause you know God put her on this world with a “catch me if you can!” sign strapped to her chest. She bounced her ass when she walked like she knew people were watching. Which they were. All the other servers in the restaurant—including my boss, I bet—wished they had my section tonight. So yes, you’re damn right I got those beautiful pieces of tail some fucking waters.
“Here you go ladies,” I said, letting my eyes roll over everything the daughter was showing off to the world.
“Do you all get your water from the tap?” Ham Thighs asked.
“Uh, yes ma’am. I’m not sure where else we’d get it.”
“Well! What a high-end place this is, huh Dee Dee?”
“Mother!” Dee Dee said with closed teeth, slapping Ham Thigh’s hand. “I’m so sorry,” she said in a salacious, high-pitched Betty Boop voice, looking up at me with her almost purple, pearl-like eyes that I swear screamed at me to catch this girl if I can.
“I can go scoop some fresh water out of that river out there if you’d like, ma’am,” I said to Ham Thighs, pointing out the window at the river. “But that’ll cost extra.”
“SIR!” Ham Thighs gagged on her water and it rolled down her chin and back into the cup—a truly sexy sight to behold.
“Mother,” Dee Dee said between laughs, “he’s just joking!”
“I don’t give a damn hell about a joking sonuvabitch. Get me some fresh water. No ice.”
“Do you want a lemon with that?”
“What do you think I am?”
“I have some ide—”
“—I’ll take a drink too,” Dee Dee said.
“Oh yeah? What’s your poison?”
“Surprise me.”
After I gave Ham Thighs her lemons with a dash of water, I went to the bar and whipped up Dee Dee her surprise. I was thinking about the dark red, tight-in-all-the-best-places strapless dress she had on, so I made her a vodka cranberry to match it. I guess I mixed too much syrup in the vodka ‘cause the drink looked like it came from the bloody pool that my dog drowned in. So I made it again. And again. The dead and seizing Suzy kept popping up in my head uninvited, splashing and whining and dying under water while Lancer tried to unsnag his leg from the thorns. Thinking of Suzy made me think of my mom and her back spasms, and what might happen to her if she had one while she was in a pool, or the tub or wherever. Hydrocodone can’t cure hydrophobia. All this personal shit was distracting me from my major goal of fucking Dee Dee that night, so I made her a stiff Sex on the Beach and wrote a note on a napkin: Tip me tonight. 843.666.3437 – Henry.
I dropped off the drink at her table, gave her another once-over, winked and slowly swaggered back towards the kitchen ‘cause I knew she was watching. Dee Dee was going to be mine, and she was all I wanted to think about for the rest of my life. I went back into the kitchen to the cheering, roaring, stomping and stamping of the cooks.
“You git her number, Hen?”
“You take a peep down her dress?”
“She’s mine if you fuck it up!”
“SMASH!”
“What did they order?”
“Getter done, Hank!”
“Henry, what did they order?”
“Tell us what she’s working with!”
“You ain’t gonna fuck her.”
“HENRY!” my boss yelled. “WHAT THE FUCK DID THEY ORDER!”
“Sorry, sir. I didn’t hear you over all that poetry we had going on just now. The scamp ordered the shrimp scampi and her angel-of-a-daughter ordered pasta. Angel hair.”
Some dogs chased each other into the street on my way home. I slammed on the breaks and screeched to a stop, nearly sending the fattest pooch to hell. “FUCK!” I yelled. My tires started to reek of feet and cheese mixed with burnt coffee. The pooch didn’t move. I honked my horn and he still didn’t move. He limped over to my side of the car. I had clipped his back leg and there was blood dripping down him and onto the street. He started to sniff my car’s smoky tires so I rolled down the window and yelled, “GO HOME YOU DOG FROM HELL. GO HOME. YOUR FRIENDS ARE LEAVING YOU!” He limped closer to my door. I opened it and got out. Blood had trickled down the front of the car and seeped into the headlights. Half of the street turned a bloody, cranberry red and then the headlight sparked and flickered until it died. “YOU FUCKIN SHIT! LEAVE!” The pooch looked up at me, gave me a sniff, and then whimpered up to my leg. He rubbed his nose into my work shoes, licked off some of the dried butter, and then looked back up at me. His eyes were a deep emerald color, like the cilantro I put on the pastas to make them look nicer than they actually are. I opened the backdoor of my car and the pooch hobbled inside, bleeding all over the back seat. I drove him to the animal emergency room a few miles away and carried him inside.
“Is he yours?” the vet asked. He was on the phone.
“No.”
“What happened to—Gina, prep the OR!” He yelled down the hallway.
“I think he got his leg caught in a thorn bush. I found him on my way home from work.”
“A thorn bu—Gina are we ready? This man said its leg was caught in some thorns,” the vet yelled to Gina. “Sir, did you see the owner nearby?”
“He probably doesn’t have one,” I said on my way out the door. The pooch watched me through the window as I got into my car, staring at me with his emerald eyes. His look made my stomach flip around and spin in circles, so I opened the car door and puked in the parking lot.
When I got home, I brewed some coffee and took a beer out of the fridge. I hopped in the shower to clean off the blood and butter, drinking both the beer and the coffee while I let the hot water drizzle over me. My phone started ringing.
“Hey Siri, who is calling?" I yelled over the running water.
“I didn’t quite catch that.”
“Siri! Who is calling me?”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“SIRI! WHO-IS-CALL-ING-ME?”
“Now playing: Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jep—”
“NO!” I jumped out of the shower, still covered in soap, and reached for my phone. I slipped and fell to the floor of the bathroom, slamming my head against the sink along the way.
I threw a wish in the well
“STOP.”
Don’t ask me I’ll never tell
“FUCK YOU CARLY!” I grabbed the edge of the counter to help myself up, but my hand slipped and knocked over my straightedge razor.
I looked at you as it fell
It fell off the counter and glided on my leg, slicing my skin up like a red snapper fillet. I cursed and saw the blood start to mix with the pool of soapy water on the floor.
And now you’re in my way
I slid on my ass to the other side of the bathroom and felt for my phone on the counter.
I trade my soul for a wish.
I snatched it and shut Carly Rae Jepsen the fuck up for good.
“One Missed Call & Voicemail: Mom.” I put the phone back on the counter and got into the shower to wipe off the blood. I couldn’t tell which blood was mine and which was the dog’s. I dried off, had another beer and sat down on my couch to bandage up the cut on my leg. My phone rang.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Henry? Is this Henry?” I recognized her Betty Boop-ish voice right away. Although it sounded a little less Betty Boop-ish over the phone, it was still hot—but not as sexy.
“Yes.”
“Hi, Henry, it’s Dee Dee.”
“Hi Dee Dee.”
“So, uh, how was your pasta?”
“It was great!”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Well, whatcha been up to?”
“It’s been a pretty normal night. I’m just having a drink at home.”
“You save one for me?”
“Yea, what’s your poison?”
Mom called again. I sent her to voicemail. She left one, called once more, and again I sent her to voicemail. No time to hear her go off about this-and-this, all that, and so-and-so again. Dee Dee was on her way to my house to fuck me. The doorbell rang.
I opened the door and there she was, standing right in front of me, her arm resting on the threshold. The light bounced off her blood-red dress, filling the room with a shade of scarlet. She looked at me with those pearl eyes of hers that whispered: “You caught me, now what?” I grabbed her by the front of her dress and pulled her towards me. She tugged her body closer to mine, kissed up my neck, found my lips and kissed and kissed and kissed. She guided my arm up her legs, over her ass and up her back until I found the zipper. I tugged it loose. She kissed me one last time and whispered, “Where’s your room?” I pointed to it. She grabbed me by the hand and led the way. Sweat glided down her back as she walked, and she slid off her dress in one practiced swoop as she walked into my room. I followed her. She was lying on the bed, wearing nothing now. I jumped in and kissed her. I made my way down and down and down and down—my phone dinged.
“I just got a text,” I said, while kissing her.
“Really?”
“Yeah my phone just—”
“Your phone is really your number one priority right now? Really, Henry?”
“It could be important.”
“Henry.”
“Just let me go check it.”
“Fine.”
I got up and walked to my dresser. It was a text from my mom that just said, “Henry.” I put it back down on the dresser, walked back to Dee Dee and told her it was nothing. She fell on top me. I kissed her neck. She stirred as she worked her way one by one down the buttons of my shirt. My phone dinged again.
“Henry.”
“I know.” I pushed her off of me onto the bed.
“I thought it was nothi—”
“Just hold on.” I left her there and walked back to my phone. Another text from mom: “Henry, helpp mwe.” My stomach flipped and turned like it did when I took that dog to the vet. This wasn’t good. This was real, real bad now and I’ve realized that I’m a very shitty son. I ran to the bathroom and called her. Straight to voicemail. I called her again. Straight to voicemail.
I walked back to the bed. “Alright. Dee Dee, if this is gonna happen we’ve got to hurry. My Mom really needs me and I need to get to her as soon as possible,” I said, while taking off my belt. “Now I don’t have a condom cause I gave my last one to my mom so she could fuck the doctor for some extra painkillers. I know that’s crazy and you’re probably wondering how my mom still hasn’t gone through menopause yet, but it’s what happened and it’s the truth and now here we are, without a condom, both of us wanting to fuck each other really badly.”
“Oh.”
“I understand if you don’t want—”
“No it’s okay. I have an IED.”
“You have a what?”
“An IED.”
“An IED?”
“Yeah an IED,” she said. It’s better than a condom and the pill. It’s the best birth control on the market right now.”
“An IUD?”
“Yes, that’s what I said. An IED.”
“No. You do not have an IED inside of you.”
“Henry.”
“Dee Dee look, you’re very beautiful. You’re probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and sleeping with you would be a once in a lifetime opportunity, but I promise you do not have an IED inside of you, and I don’t have the time to talk about it anymore.”
“Henry, I think I would know what’s inside of me.”
“No, Dee Dee. You do not have an IED. IEDs are IMPROVISED EXPLOSIVE DEVICES that were used in the Afghanistan war. You have an IUD inside of you, not an IED.”
“Oh. That’s what I meant. An IUD.”
“I mean damn. They’re both used for a bang, but they’re very types of bangs.”
“Fuck it Henry. Stop fucking around with this shit. Stop fucking around with your texts and your mom and fuck me instead. Your mom will be fine. She’s a big girl.”
“What did you say?”
“I said ‘fuck me.’ Fuck me, Henry.”
“No. What the hell did you say about my mom?”
“She’ll be fine, Henry. You have better things to do than worry about her.”
“What? Get out. Get out of my house. I love my mom. She’s the greatest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Every morning I go and feed her last surviving dog because she’s sick and depressed and can’t do it on her own. I go there every morning just so I can see a smile on her face because I think she’s the most incredible, maddening, amazing and strongest person I have ever met. And I love her, Dee Dee. I love her all the way to the stars, and the moon ball, and back again. And she knows the fucking difference between an IED and an IUD, so put your sexy clothes back on and get out. I’m leaving.”
I tried calling Mom again while I ran to my car. Straight to voicemail. My stomach did that shitty, flipping thing again and I puked on my car. The beers and slimy chunks of my dinner slid down the rusty blue hood of my car and seeped into the crack over the only working headlight. I got in the car. Both of the lights didn’t work now, so I sped my way down the streets to Mom’s house under the light of the rising sun and the light from whatever streetlights still worked. I thought of Suzy and Lancer and the dog with the emerald eyes. I saw another pack of dogs under the streetlight ahead of me. I stopped. They all looked at me, and then they ran across the street into the woods. I sped up. I drove faster and faster and faster than I’ve ever driven before. I slammed on the breaks right in front of her house. The door was locked, so I kicked it in like they do in movies. The alarm started shrieking. I heard a robotic voice say that help was on the way. I yelled for her. “Mom! Mom where are you?” No response. I ran to her room but she wasn’t there. The bathroom light was on.
The tub was filled with water. Half of Mom’s mouth was submerged and her phone was at the bottom of the tub. The water was a deep red, almost black from all the blood. It looked like when you mix too much Kool-Aid in the water. “I’m sorry mom,” I screamed. “I’m sorry.” The water muffled her voice, but I heard her say that she loves me all the way to the stars, and the moon ball, and back again.
The ambulance came. They said that they were taking Mom to the ER and that she was going to make it. They wheeled her out of the house to the ambulance, so I followed them to the street and watched them drive her away, speeding towards the emerald sunrise. She was going to make it. I went back inside her house and lay down on the couch. Lancer was awake now, and he limped over to me from his kennel. Mom had wrapped a bandage around the part of his leg where the thorn bushes ripped him up. Dad used to go hunting every other weekend before he died, so he always needed a hunting dog. He loved the Setters: the Irish Setter, the English Setter and Gordon Setter. He had both the Irish and the English Setters when he went hunting as a kid, so got a Gordon and named him Lancer when I was born. But Lancer has always hated water, so Dad never took him hunting. When it rained, Lancer would run inside while Suzy jumped in the puddles without a care in the whole damn world. So I guess it’s pretty amazing Lancer jumped into the pool to save Suzy. At least he tried to save her. At least he didn’t wait.
I went to the pantry and opened him a bag of Pedigree dry food. With real chopped liver and beef. I poured him a bowl of organic, fresh apple juice. He has always hated water.
Robert Stodola is a 20-year old college student at Rhodes College in Memphis, TN, writes for the sake of writing and strives to be honest, gritty, raw and disgusting with each piece he creates. Each short story expresses what it means to be human. For Robert, funny is the new deep.
Photo by Adrian
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