The Man in the Soda Jerk Hat

I Scream, You Scream, Klaus Screams, Diego Screams (We All Scream For)

"C'mon, Diego, raise the paddle!"

"No."

"Diego, please, just—hey! Don't pinch me! Just—FUCK! Just raise the paddle, you bastard!"

"No," Diego growls, shoving the paddle under his armpit. "I'm still not even sure what I'm doing here."

"God's work, Diego," Klaus insists, eyes wide and far from innocent. "We're doing God's work." He digs his way under his brother's crossed arms and grabs ahold of the auction paddle's handle. Klaus starts trying to wrestle it away without making a scene.

From the nasty look he's getting from the bird-faced bitch three seats over, it isn't working too well.

"We have an offer for $7,000 from the lady in red! Yes, $7,000—Can I get a bid for $7,500? $7,500..."

"Uh-huh." Diego snorts contemptuously. "Since when do you believe in God?"

"Since she wheeled her teenage ass up on a bicycle from a black and white forest and acted like a nosey cunt for five minutes straight," Klaus answers. "You can't really believe in the word of God until you hear it directly from her bratty, judgmental mouth." Klaus pulls harder on the little wooden handle, grunting softly and stamping his feet.

"I literally have no response to that."

"Good, no one asked you for one, now did they?" Klaus turns to look at his ghostly brother. "Did you ask for his opinion?" Ben shakes his head wearily. "See—there you have it!" Klaus crows, "Ben didn't ask for it, either!"

Diego scowls and puts his free hand against Klaus' face, fending him off while he continues to grab at the paddle like a madman. "How did you get Allison to loan you the money, anyway?"

"...annnd, $8,250! $8,250 to the gentleman in row eight! Do I hear $8,500?..."

Klaus pauses in his struggling, Diego's palm still flat against his face and squishing his cheeks. "That's a funny story actually—now that we've, as the kids say, been blasted into the past, everything's coming up Klaus!"

Diego raises a skeptical eyebrow.

Klaus laughs. "It's true! Sure, maybe five years in the past is shitty for a few reasons, what with you still being tossed out of the police academy..."

Diego digs his fingers into Klaus' face a little harder at that. "...and—motherfucker!—well, with Dear Old Daddy still being alive like some sort of villainous cockroach—but for me? This is the year after Allison asked me to do a little consulting for that horror flick she was working on. What was it, Don't Tell Mommy? Love Me, Mommy? Something like that—but seriously who came up with that title? When Allie told me, I thought she'd started working in some sort of indie pornography—but anyway, they needed some help with the afterlife, and they loved my stories so much they hired me to help write some of the script. They even put me in the film's credits, if you—"

"Wait, wait, wait—" Diego interrupts, completely flabbergasted. "You helped create a horror blockbuster? A successful movie, and if I remember it right, not actually horrible?"

"Now we're up to $9,000! A $9,000 bid to the man in the yellow sweater. Can I get $9,250?..."

Klaus gives him a shit-eating grin and winks. "I'm a man of many talents, baby." He smacks Diego's hand off his face and falls back against his chair. "And the check arrived in her mail last week, and she gave it to me three days ago." Klaus whips out his purse and pulls out a wad of Benjamins. "I cashed it today." And then he gives the stack a gentle kiss.