The Dinner Guest- Chapter 29: Road Risible

“If any of say a word, I’ll gut you like a flounder.”

Shriss appeared more nervous than upset, but it was hard to tell. I’ve seen chain smokers before. Hell, I was one at age nine. But I’ve never anyone chain smoke three cigarettes at a time. I think my mom came close when she was pregnant with me, which explains why my dad called me Ashtray during my childhood. That and the cigars he would put out with my asscheeks.

There Shriss was, puffing away. I was directly behind her in the car, sitting next to my dog as we watched the smoke clouds billow up from her unmoving body, like a muffler with three pipes.

“They’re just cops. Why’re you so nervous?” I asked her, petting Abita as she cocked her head to the side and barked softly.

Shriss turned around abruptly, snarling at her three passengers. Through the smoke and ash of the cancer sticks, she mumbled, “They’re not cops. They’re Mormons. I don’t do well with these galactic assholes.”

The creature sitting next to Abita started snickering. Not a normal snicker like a stifled giggle. These guffaws were more like the moonshine cars, sputtering and popping, ready to explode from the toxic fumes infecting his engine. His bright, round eyes changed hues with each whirr and whiz, trolling the rainbow from puce to vermillion.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was having an aneurism.

“Quiet down, they’re here.”

The cops tapped on the window with their nightsticks. They stepped away as the window rolled down, brandishing their sticks from their hips like violent dildoes, ready for puncturing the yeast infection of society. No wonder cops get off on power.

“How can I help you officers?” Shriss said in her most feminine voice possible, a low falsetto that would make James Earl Jones proud. “I was just on my way to Temple to be with my husband and his sixteen other wives.”

The cops looked at each other and grinned. “Ma’am, are you aware that polygamy in the great state of Utah is strictly forbidden. It’s punishable by death here. Now, I’m sure we can arrange some sort of ‘alternative’ penalty for you, pretty lady.” They snickered together, real snickers, scratching their bellies with their black, plastic members.

From the back of the car came a tiny voice, cracking amidst its own giggles. “Help me, (snort). She’s going to (giggle) make me marry a goat (snort).”

The cops and Shriss turned their attention to the monster sitting beside me. Sir Bill smiled back at them, his sharp, pointed teeth jutting out in an awkward grin.

“What the hell are you doing?” I whispered to him. I tried to nudge him with my elbow, but instead got Abita, who had been laying down with her head dipped down into the foot space. Sir Bill giggled even louder as Abita whined and brought her head up. The cops stared at our silly trio in the backseat. They shifted their focus from me to the dog to the lizard-like monster with a Mickey Mouse hat on. After a long pause, one of them pointed his nightstick at Bill.

“You’re a funny looking kid, you know that?” He spat on the ground, chewing his smokeless tobacco slowly. “You look almost like a lizard.”

The other officers nodded at him, one of them (the biggest one) moving around the car to get a better look. Peering into the window, the officer scrunched his face against the glass, mesmerized by the strange being before him. “He’s green!” he exclaimed, his breath fogging the window and his voice muffled, “and I think he’s a chupacabra. In fact, he is a chupacabra. They just put a hat on him to disguise him.”

With this statement, Sir Bill roared with laughter, shaking the car and the people outside of it. His red eyes filled with tears as he shook from side to side in mirth and glee, hitting his leg with the palm of his hand. Shriss took a swing at him, aiming for his head, but missed and hit Abita in her shoulder. Abita yowled and stood up straight.

The force from Bill’s laughter shook the cops as they moved, compelling them to hold their hats onto the head and stay low to the ground to keep balance. The car shook violently, upending itself and tilting in every direction, nearly capsizing onto its side. Still Bill laughed, holding his sides and flailing his arms. The noise drowned out all speech as it grew louder and more forceful. I saw Shriss yell at me, her mouth moving in silence against the din, the lips moving from a deep smile to a quick kiss. I stared at her quizzically, not able to decipher what she was saying. She repeated the same word over and over, SMILE KISS, SMILE KISS, SMILE KISS, pointing at the ground by Bill’s feet.

Outside the car, the cops had found their balance and drew their guns, aiming them directly at Bill and me. Shriss repeated her word, wrath in her face. I shrugged my shoulders at her, too stunned to move, my brain distracted by the sonic howls of laughter beside me. Shriss repeated the word one more time, slowly, emphasizing each syllable. SMILE……KISS….

Abita nodded and nuzzled beneath Bill’s feet. She grabbed a bottle of cough syrup and, with a twist of her head, hurled it into the gleefully gaping grin of Bill.

The laughter stopped as a giant sucking noise came from his side of the car. The shaking ceased and the cops gathered themselves. They ran to the car, opening the windows, ready to pull Shriss, Bill, and me from the car.

They stopped and stared at Abita. She returned their glare and nodded her head. The cops backed away, bowing their heads. After three steps they kneeled, genuflecting.

“What the hell?” Shriss looked at me, puzzled.

Again I shrugged my shoulders.

Bill sat there, silent, that same stupid expression on his face. He was lost in tangerine dreams.

Abita barked, a long yowl. The cops stood and bowed.

“We had no idea you were in the car. We will escort you to your palace, your majesty,” one cop said in a hallowed tone.

“What the hell is going on?” asked Shriss.

“Shut your mouth. You’re in the presence of Abita, Queen of Mormonia.”