Best Served Cold

Twisting His Arm

Note: Who, me? On a manic writing spree? Don’t be silly hahahahaha…ha..ha… Ghost and Mystery Skulls aren’t mine, neither are any of the characters, see Mystery Ben and Artsy for that.

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            Wrapped only in a towel, Arthur had managed to slide down the hall to his room after the shower. He pulled on some sweats and a grungy looking T-shirt, then sniffed the latter and discarded it. He didn’t care at the moment, but it would give Vivi another reason to stay longer. He grabbed a clean tank and pulled it on, then shuffled out of his room.

            Mystery met him in the hall, the robotic arm clamped between his teeth and an apologetic grimace.

            Arthur walked past him, ignoring the arm, and headed for the living room. “Fine, Vivi, I showered, now please go home.”

            “Kitchen!” she sang out.

            “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he moaned, “She’d better not be…” He walked into the kitchen, his senses assaulted by the glorious smell of bacon frying, pancakes flipping, and syrup dripping.

            “A lot of stuff went bad in your fridge so you’d better take the trash out, but there’s plenty of pancake mix, and a few good eggs!” She grinned, setting a heaping platter of food on the table. “There ya go.” She pulled out a chair for him.

            “I’m fine Vivi.” He shoved the chair back in place. “I don’t need you to cook for me, I’m eating fine.”

            “Don’t lie to me Arthur!” Her sharp tone snapped his head around. Her mouth was a thin line. “I don’t know what it is about that mansion that rattled you so hard, but you vanished right afterward. And when I find you, you’re in the same clothes? No shower? I bet you didn’t eat either.” She jerked the chair out again, hard. “I’m not interested in shrinking our group again. So you eat that. All of it.” She plopped down in the chair across from him. “Not leaving ‘til you do.”

            Arthur sighed, easing into the chair. Next time he’d call the police on her for trying to break his door down.

            That wasn’t fair. She was just trying to hold him together. He lifted a forkful of egg to his mouth.

            She wouldn’t if she knew.

            The fork clattered to the plate, his eyes fixed on the food. He felt like vomiting, and if he’d had anything in his stomach, he would have.

            “Oh Squire,” She scooted her chair around, grabbing his hand. It was shaking. “Squire please, I don’t know what’s going on. We’ve been on a hundred ghost busts and mystery tours before, why’s this one sticking with you so hard?”

            Squire. The nickname he’d never outgrow like she promised in high school. “Someday you’ll be grand and brave,, like King Arthur, but for now you’re still a squire. It’s ok, everyone starts somewhere. But you’ll get there someday.”

            No king, or even knight, would act so shamefully.

            He could feel a throb pounding dully in his head. He closed his eyes, feeling the strength drain out of him as he tilted to the side. Was it three days she’d said? It felt like longer…

            “Squire!” She caught him, struggling to sit him back up. “Please, you have to eat something. I’ll call 9-1-1, I will!”

            “Viv I can’t.” He choked, “Just looking at it’s making me sick.”

            She managed to prop him back up, watching anxiously. “Well it’s not my cooking, you never turn down food. Oh Arthur please, what’s going on?”

            “Nothing, please. Just go away.”

            There was silence for a minute, then her chair scraped back and her footsteps moved off into the living room. He sighed in relief. Maybe she was leaving.

            “Yeah, I’d like to report my friend. Looks like he hasn’t eaten in three days, and for him that qualifies as a suicide attempt.”

            His eyes snapped open. She was actually calling them.

            “Don’t laugh at me mister, he’s not in his right mind. Are you going to send someone if I give you an address?"

            He staggered to his feet. “Viv, don’t!”

            She spun on her heel, pointing silently at the plate on the table.

            Defeated, he sagged back into the chair, picking up a slice of bacon and forcing himself to chew and swallow.

            “Looks like he’s suddenly coming to his senses. Thanks for your help, I might have to call again.” She flipped her phone shut and rejoined him at the table. “I want to see at least half of that plate gone, got it?”

            “Five bites.” He muttered.

            “A quarter, take it or leave it.”

            “Fine.” He shoveled a forkful of sticky sweet pancake into his mouth. “If you’ll go away.”

            At her silence, he turned his face toward her. “Tell me you’re leaving, Vivi.”

            She stared back at him. “I make no such promise Arthur. You’re scaring the bejeebles out of me. This isn’t you, and I miss my best friend."

            A paw settled on his leg, and he could hear Mystery’s muffled whine. The mutt must still be toting his arm around.

            Wordlessly he took his arm from Mystery and clicked it back into place. “I’m fine Vivi,” His voice rang hollow, and he tried to infuse it with more life. “Really. I just saw some things, and I have to sort it out."

            “So, sort it out. What did you see?”

            “I don’t want to talk about it!” He snapped, his real arm trembling. He forced his voice to sound calm. “It’s something I have to deal with myself.”

            He could feel her eyes on him, measuring his response. “Promise me you’ll really deal with it Squire.” She said quietly. “You gotta promise me that much. I can’t handle another funeral.”

            He flinched, gulping in air like she’d sucker-punched him in the gut. She never talked about that.

            “Please Squire.” She took his hand gently. “You and Mystery are all I got left.”

            His head bowed. She was right. He owed it to her to try. She didn’t deserve to go through that again.

            “Okay Viv.” He whispered. “I promise.”