Ogreness, Black Lake-book5

Chapter 37
~

First thing when I got to the building, I rushed to a restroom and washed the color stuff off my face, before anyone saw me. Felt weird. After peerin’ into the mirror for a moment I wondered if I should have left it on. I was really pale. I guess I’d lost a lot of blood this weekend. There was the shiner, too.

I called Dave from the elevator—I didn’t have the energy to walk the stairs.

“Hey,” he said.

“Ya really have a guy?” I asked.

“For what? There are different kinds of guys.”

“I’ve got broken windows and dry eggs all across my house. Need it fixed.”

“That’s a different kind of guy,” he said. “I can make some calls.”

“Wouldn’t that make ya my guy?” I asked.

He chortled.

“I don’t need a guy with a masters in IT callin’ a painter for me.”

“So what kind of guy do you want?” Dave asked.

“A guy who’ll find the right painter to call who doesn’t cost me yar salary. Ya said ya had a guy.”

“Don’t get mad at me. You’ll never see the rock again.”

He wasn’t talkin’ about rocks like those that broke my windows. He’s a ball hog. Never gets the basketball to me in the paint anyway. “Did we win, by the way?”

“Lost by twenty-three points. Ruffs was the best you could get us?”

“It’s ya white-collar human pansies. Don’t blame the ogre.”

“Always the little guy’s fault,” Dave whined.

“Always,” I said. “So, ya don’t really have a guy.”

There was clickin’ in the background. He was online searchin’ for a guy. I waited.

“Got a number for you,” he said as the lift door opened. “Where are you?”

I explained I’d just gotten to the office.

“Thought you headed in Saturday morning.”

“Long story. Give me the number.”

I was almost to Darshee’s office when I hung up with my new guy, stomach swirlin’ since I’d just given a contractor who I’d never met, the access code to my house. This is why I’d never had a guy before.

Sissy crawled out from underneath Darshee’s desk, butt flingin’ back and forth. I picked her up and sat in Darshee’s visitor chair to give the pup some lovin’.

“Ya never answered last night, so I—what happened to yar face? Why are ya white as a spring cloud?”

“I had a thing Saturday.” Sissy was tryin’ to lick my chin off.

Before Sissy calmed ten percent, Wizper walked in. “Why’ve ya been out of contact?” she hissed. “Ya’ve always taken our calls. Why didn’t ya take our calls? Why are ya so pale? Ya look like ya’re ready to puke. Are ya gettin’ ready to puke? Did ya get wasted last night, without us?”

She jerked a look at Darshee, who shrugged. I set Sissy down on the floor and took Wizper’s hand.

“Why are ya takin’ her hand?” Darshee hissed. “Ya never take our hand. Ya aren’t the touchy feely type.”

“I’m feelin’ tired, emotional,” I said.

“What happened?” Wizper hissed.

Sissy jumped back in my lap. She was bouncin’ into my chest. It hurt. But I didn’t want to push her away.

“Why are ya bleedin’?” Wizper screeched.

I looked down. The button down I’d put on this morning instead of my normal OW polo, since it was easier to slip into, was matted blood-red from Sissy’s lovin’. Uh oh. Busted.

“Why are ya bleedin’?” Darshee hissed.

Both of them started growlin’. Tapin’ them would have been a great example for Daisy, how we growl, not just because we’re angry. But then again, they could be angry, since I was a little slow explainin’.

“Explain,” both hens hissed together.

“That cop that stopped ya, Monday,” I said.

“That little dweeb,” Darshee growled.

“He shot me.”

“What?” they both roared.

How else could I have told them? Maybe I was abrupt. Mama says I’m abrupt. Worse than Papa. If that’s true, I’m really abrupt.

“Ya been in the hospital all weekend?” Wizper asked.

“No. In jail.”

“They took ya from the hospital to jail?” Darshee asked.

I shook my head. “No. Just to jail.” I explained about my attorney takin’ me to get patched up.

“And ya’re here this morning?” Wizper asked.

“I’m gonna call yar mama,” Darshee said. “She’s gonna let into ya. I’m gonna kill me a cop.”

“After I kill him,” Wizper said.

Folk were startin’ to gather at the door. Dave was one of them. He pushed his way through. “What’s all the ogre-hissy about?”

Darshee started blabbin’. I didn’t have the energy to shut her up. A siren of, are ya kiddin’ me, rose from the door crowd.

“Why aren’t you in the hospital?” Dave asked.

“Ya should be in the hospital,” Darshee and Wizper agreed.

There were several from the crowd agreein’ with them, barely recognizable from all the growlin’. I should have just gone straight to my desk and started answerin’ my messages.

~ Nuel ~

We had a fun weekend, the three of us hens. We never talked politics or bulls. Hiked. Ate a lot. Drank more than my usual. Darshee and Wizper are characters. They talk like previously adjoined twins who still share a brain.

Silva and Ralph welcomed me as though I was home. But I wasn’t home. I was eager to get home. Silva gave me a funny look. I don’t know what she was thinking. She asked about the trip as Ralph conveniently disappeared.

Maybe I cried on her shoulder a little.

~