There will come a day when youth will pass away
What will they say about me?
When the end comes, I know
I was just a gigolo
Life goes on without me
I Ain't Got Nobody ~ David Lee Roth
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Thankfully, I don't have to wait an eternity contemplating my many sins on the old Conquistador sin contemplating bench, before her Eminence rolls in for final judgment. The little lady is even rocking those old raisin arch support shoes, those sickly off green-gray kind that squeak slightly on the tile floor. Not totally unlike Nurse Rachet from the Cuckoo's Nest. I really have to wonder if she is doing this for my benefit, just because I am half Insanistani on my mother's side? Or maybe this is just the way this tiny tyrant rolls on the regular?
"Ah, and the Infamous Mr. Dean. And to what pray tell, do we owe this pleasure?" She grandly inquires with the gravitas of someone who wants me to suffer here in Hell for all eternity.
"You said to come to the office and get a late pass?" I have to remind her of her own words.
"Well then, by all means, follow me." She bids me entrance to her domain.
The Sleestak Queen leads me through the low saloon swinging gates, all the way back to her desk in the back of the office. Where once more she retakes her tiny tyrant throne. Her little desk throne is still just a rainbow of nicely organized stacks of multi-colored paper in various sizes and meanings, most of which I am sure are not good news. I do note that the clever "Here only Here" signage from my first visit is long gone. Oddly the Sleestak Queen still has no title nameplate placard thing, lauding how awesome she is at whatever it is that she actually does here?
"Now do you mind explaining to me why it is that you were walking May Belle to her locker today, instead of her sister?" She starts blunt and right to the point, so it's pretty clear to me that all the pleasantries are over between us.
I know I could take this opportunity totally throw April under the bus for ditching out on May for her shiny life as a popularity princess. But I don't snitch, not even on someone as clearly self-centered and screwed up as April's Fool appears to be. And like May said, only she gets to say shitty things about her sinister sister. A privileged that apparently doesn't extend to me.
"No." I dead eye her to see if she will blink first.
But of course, she doesn't blink first. Because like all her Sleestak kith she has one of those creepy cold nictitating glare stares. So she just stares blankly up at me, just waiting for me to say something stupid, to justify my existence. But I show her and remain silent, keeping all my stupidity all to myself.
"Well?" The Sleestak Queens eyes narrow into slicing slits as she tries to intimidate me with her mean Queen thing.
Honestly, if I hadn't grown up around Sunny Hauser, and more recently ol Iris Irish. Then maybe this mean little lady might intimidate me, as clearly she is used to doing with everyone else. But after you've seen someone get their throat sliced open by a real Queen? A little church lady in squeaky old people shoes really don't scare much anymore.
"She asked me to, so I did." I shrug her off into oblivion, just in case this is one of those sneaky Sleestak tricks. Leaving the She in question as ambiguous as possible, thus allowing the mean old lady drawn her own conclusions as to which Grimm sister I speak of.
"I see." She bobs her big beehive hair slowly in crocodilian contemplation. "I can not help but notice you've been having lunch every day with May Belle since school started. Why is that, Mr. Dean?" She inquires with accusatory eyes, in the way of her reptilian people.
"She asked me to, so I did." I slowly repeat my new mantra again.
During my short time among the raisins of wrath, I have found that by repeating the same words low and slow, helps them concentrate better on what you said the first time. And if you can throw in some of their ancient slangy words and whit, all the blazing better.
"She asked you?" The Sleestak rocks in her throne in clear disbelief of this statement. "You mind me asking how it is that particular askance happened to occur?"
"Yeah." I stare right back into her basilisk Sleestak gaze, waiting for her next move.
"Well?" She snips at my silence.
"You mind telling me first, why it is that you suddenly care who I have lunch with?" I inquire right bluntly back.
"Oh, make no mistake Mr. Dean, I do not care one whit who you have lunch with. I do however care very much who May Belle Grimm keeps company with." In the ancient tongue of the Raisin a whit is kind of like shit ...but nicer'ish? "Now for whatever reason, May Belle seems to have taken you into her confidence? So you see the direction I am headed with this line of inquiry?"
"Not really." I blink back at her in the custom of her cold-blooded folk.
"Well then allow me to explain it to you so that can clearly understand my concern." She spits and hisses at me in high Sleestak. "May Belle Grimm is obviously Visually Impaired. As such, we do the best we can to watch out for her, especially when she cannot. Not only to ensure that she is safe and sound, but that all other students respect her right to be here. To ensure that she is treated accordingly, with the full due consideration and respect that she deserves."
"So when a boy who is a recent transfer to this school, is seen continually in her company at lunch...to whit." She crooks her ancient crooked claw at my chest. "I have to ask myself, how is it that a boy who knows no one when school began is always seen having lunch with May Belle Grimm? Which leaves me wonder as to how that came about? And is this something that I need to keep an eye on, for May Belle's sake?" She bares her fangs at me in a clear sign of Sleestak aggression.
"Now it's your turn to say something informative that will make me rest easier, not having to worry about May Belle Grimm." She stops the talking noises and resumes rocking her throne of judgment waiting for my reply, as she glares the basilisk stare thing that she is so clearly fond of.
"You seem to assume a lot of things, Lady," I reply slowly. "I usually find when people assume things? That more often than not, they turn out to be wrong."
"Excuse me?" Her eyes widen into indignation at the implication she might ever be "wrong".
I have only recently learned in my short time here in Hell, that raisins really hate being wrong about stuff. But worse than being wrong, raisins hate it the most when you change their worldview. Because they really do like their old worldview much better. The one where they are right, about being right, about everything? Because being always right was how they survived the Great Depressing and killed Hitler at Hiroshima and whit. So you have to be very careful with the Raisins of Wrath when you explain the "wrong whit" to them. Like all those extra buttons on remote control that never seem to do anything besides screw up the picture?
"Like for instance, you're assuming that May and I didn't know each other before school started? When the fact is that she is the only person that I knew at this so-called school. So when she was kind enough to invite me to have lunch with her?" I shrug and say no more, letting her fill in her own truth. Something else I've noticed about Raisins, they love to fill in their own truth. Probably because it really helps them maintain their general feeling of righteous rightness.
"And is that all you have to say on the subject?" She eyes me sharply, clearly looking for signs of weakness.
"Yeah." I bare my challenge fangs at her, practically daring her to attack.
"I am also given to understand that you've been helping May Belle with her homework, as well? I believe, English in particular?" She lifts up the Study Buddy sign-in sheet from detention last, with both our names marked on it in angry orange highlighter. "Anything to add on that subject?"
"Not really." I shrug off her explanation invitation.
It's starting to be clear to me, that this lady has been seriously keeping tabs on me for some reason. So while I know I can be a total whippersnapper at this moment if I wanted to? There is something about this mean little old lady that has me slightly wary of her. For one thing, I know that May likes the mean little Sleestak Queen for some strange reason? Add to that, I have an unsettling suspicion from our first interaction that she is somehow closely connected to the Irish Antichrist. The crazy old lady I currently stay with, that keeps claiming to be my grandmother. So I take the option best suited to me ...I merely remain stone-still silent and say nothing.
"So is that all you have to say for yourself, Mr. Dean?" Her eyes narrow into mean little slits, practically daring me to change her worldview.
"Pretty much." I shrug her off.
Actually, I have a lot whit to say, Queenie. Starting with the fact that you should feel free to keep your Sleestak nose out of my flocking business from now on. Oh, and FYI your son-in-law Buzzy is a complete piece of whit. So good luck with the next generation of Slestack Buzzy brats.
"Then allow me to ask you this bluntly then?" She eyes me scathingly. "Are you a kind, decent and trustworthy person, Mr. Dean? Or are you someone that I need to keep a sharp eye on in the future?"
"No, I wouldn't say kindness was my strongest quality," I reply slowly.
Am I decent? Honestly, after spending some time with Buzzy this summer, I am not even sure what that even means in the local lingo.
"As far as being a trustworthy person? I guess you can always ask Mr. Blake over at the Annex, where I work weekends? I'm sure he has an opinion he'd love to share." Seeing that old Joe has lots of unnecessary witty opinions that he keeps feeling the need to share with me on the regular.
"So you're still working over at the Annex pool then?" She seems surprised by this news for some strange reason. "And if I was to call Joseph and ask him about you? What would he say?"
"Couldn't say." I shrug her off with a lie. "But if you know Old Joe, then you know ain't much of a talker."
"Isn't." She corrects me out of habit.
"Ri'ight ...izn't." I drone back dryly.
Another thing about raisins, the love to correct you on anything they can. The whole "ain't verses isn't" controversy, is like nails on a chalkboard to their wrinkled little pruney ears. Because they're not buying into the fact that Mark Twain actually invented the word way before even they were born? Or that ain't is in the dictionary now ...since like the dawn of time? Like I said before about the ancient raisins of old, it's like their using all the same words ... but not really speaking the same language. So if you ever wanna see a raisin go ballistic with correction seizures, just answer with "yeah" "naw not" or "whateverz". Throw in an odd ain't and you can practically walk them right into the light at the end of the tunnel.
"You're not a very chatty boy are you, Mr. Dean?" She eye bones me even harder, looking for weakness.
"Nope." I agree, and coldly stare back waiting for the next attack.
"So I see." She eyes me severely up and down for several scathing heartbeats. Then begins to bob her brain slowly as if she has suddenly decided something of import.
"Perhaps that is for the best then." She picks up one of her next colorful pieces of bad news.
"Part of May Belles curriculum requires that she has a regular reader. Someone who reads her textbooks to her, for English, History, Cultural Studies, and Theater. This is mostly done on a volunteer basis, through the detention study program." Something I am now all too familiar with thanks to Or'sir sense of self-importance.
"However with this said, we have had some difficulty finding a reliable reader for her in the past ...in particular during finals week. I, myself and Miss Krystal have even taken on the mantle from time to time when necessary." The Sleestak Queens insistent assertions aside, I am guessing that didn't sit well at all with Miss Krystal at her current TV tabloid reading level. Neptune knows that Billy Shakes-a-spear must have done a real number on her current Kardashian level education.
"Now the school district will pay a qualified reader, should I requests one for her." She taps out thoughtfully. "Now does that sound like something that you would also be willing to undertake, Mr. Dean?"
"You mean get paid to read to May, outside of detention?" I intone slowly, feeling my way cautiously along, to what sounds like an actual good thing.
"Precisely so." She bares her feral fangs back at me.
"Then I'll take the job? But not for the money." I cock my head at her, as this conversation has possibly crossed over into Insanisatni. Like it sounds okay in my head? But in the real world, this is probably very not cool.
Whether she is surprised by this or not she doesn't blink, of course. I have the distinct impression that Mrs. Saint C would blaze whit up at a card table. Because this mean little lady has zero tells, just that same steady, dead eye steely Sleestak stare.
"And during finals, when you have your own studying to do? What will become of May Belle then?" She knifes up her plucky little reptilian brow. "In regards to May Belle's reading needs?"
"Not an issue." I shake her off the stupidity.
Studying has never been an issue for me before, seeing that I've never actually studied for finals in my life. Whit, I wouldn't even know how to do that even if they paid me to study? So why blaze up a good thing for no reason? Like the ancient Raisins of old used to say: "If it is not brokeneth, then do not fixeth that whit. Leave that whit the flocketh alonesome!" After all, that's what rehab is for, right?
"If I should trust you to undertake this responsibility, can you swear to me that not only will not let me down when it matters? But that you will do your utmost to assist May Belle as she navigates thru her classes?" She eyes me severely.
"I can only swear that I will do, what I say I will do." I blink back at her attack. As far as letting you down? Yeah whateverz on that noise, Queenie.
"Then I suppose I will just have to take you at your word." She seems strangely satisfied with this taking of the "word" thing. Like somehow she has tricked me into stealing some of my soul.
"Word." I drone back at her. Yeah, take that wordy whit Queenie!
"So other than a reader, is there anything else that May needs help navigating?" I eye her back evenly.
Now is the little mean Sleestak Queen smirking slightly, as if I have been finally caught in her tricky trap?
"I assume that as a working lifeguard you are trained in current First Aid techniques, should the need arise?" Her alligator eyes narrow.
"I am." I intone back.
That is so flocking funny you should ask Slesetack! Cause I got a great story about a kid I saved this summer from the uncaring claws of his dumb drunk mother. Then check this whit, your loser excuse for a son-in-law even fired me for that? So what the flock, do you think about that whit?
"I've also noticed that you've been walking May Belle to her classes from time to time?" You know, because I have nothing better to do with my time and whit, than spy on you between classes and whit.
"Uh huh ...and?" I grunt in assent.
"So do you wish to take on more responsibility, assisting May Belle's movements between classes as an official escort?" Her eyes narrow into calculating slits.
"Yeah ...I mean yes." I throw the old girl a correction in for free.
"May Belles sister's schedule is mostly matched up to hers, save for two periods. May's first period after homeroom, and her last period theater? When May Belle goes to study hall after her last class of the day. Where apparently she has been joining you regularly in detention?" She sniffs at me severely.
"Perhaps if you were to assist May Belle in her movements for these two periods that could be helpful, at least to start with? Then we can see how that goes for a week, and decide how that works for everyone?" The clear implication that "everyone" meaning solely within the purview of her ancient Sleestaks self.
I resist saying "word" again, and just wait for the other ax to drop.
"Here is a weekly special assistance pass." She hands me a white slip with May's name and mine.
I note that this has already been filled out on all the official lines to be filled out on. Including both of our class schedules? Oh yeah, The Sleestak Queen has most definitely been lying in wait for this little attack chat.
"You must show this pass to your teachers. You may leave five minutes before the end of class to get to May Belle's class, in order to facilitate her movements between classes. If you are stopped in the hallway on the way to fetch May Belle, you will show this pass to any hall monitor that stops you. If you are late for a class because you were assisting May Belle to hers, the tardy will be forgiven." She bares her feral fangs almost pleasantly. "Of course, I will still be reviewing your tardy slips in order to determine that you are not abusing my trust. That in fact, you are actually assisting May Belle to class and then proceeding directly to your own."
"So take this warning to heart Mr. Dean. Do not abuse this pass." She tries to do that pullback move, to fake me out of reaching to fast for the pass. "This Special Pass is only for the purpose of assisting May Belle in her movements. It is not by any means, a get out of jail free card, but merely a means to an end. So know this, I will be strictly reviewing your ingress and egress to and from classes, both your own and May Belle's. Do you have any questions, Mr. Dean?"
"Can I change my schedule out of Not Mrs. Grant's English class, and into May's class with Miss Ferns?" I push my luck on the off chance I can escape my fate.
"Why?" She is oddly a little too curious.
"Because then I can walk May to her first class after lunch?" I proffer logically. "And Miss Fern is a real teacher, so I can probably help May better if we had the same teacher?"
"The curriculum for all junior English sections are the same, and Mrs. Grant will hopefully be returning to us shortly. So until then, I suggest you make do, where you are currently." She easily negates my request, something we will both live to regret that she didn't acquiesce immediately too. For what neither of us could predict at this precise moment, is just how badly we will both live to regret this arbitrary decision in the halcyon days to come.
"One final word to the wise, Mr. Dean. Do not make me regret placing my faith in you." The grand Sleestak "Or else!!!" being clearly implied.
"Right, gotta have faith?" I nod slowly, waiting for the rest of the death threats to be delivered.
"This would be the last part of the conversation, where you assure me that you are up to the task at hand. That I can now rest easy, assured that you are going to live up to your word?" She glare stares me down coldly, willing me to break and bend a knee in supplication to her awesomeness.
"I find that actions speak louder than words..." I decide to throw her a bone. "...Ma'am?"
It's like a raisin thing, to be respected for still being alive and whit. Raisins eat that whole "Ma'am" and "Sir" whit up like there's no tomorrow. Which sadly in many of their cases, tomorrow might be a cosmic crapshoot of epic proportions.
"I am done with you now, Mr. Dean. You may now return to your next class." She bares her yellowed fangs mirthlessly at me and waves her curled claw towards the door.
With that regal dismissal, I go forth armed with my "Special Pass" to stroll the hallway back to my locker. Collect my notebook and then drift on to Drones Strikes history class. So I take the slow way to Striker's stopping off in the bathroom to check the water pressure. By the time I slide back into History, Striker is in the midst of showing the second part of Cleopatra with the snake suicides. I have zero idea how these two crazy kids relate to US Government ...but it's better than listening to Striker read His Story from the big book of Americana again.
As I slip in the back of class, skirting around Sit and Spin, Striker blinks up at me from his seat in the back corner. I can already tell he really doesn't want to engage me on my tardy nature, but is sadly forced to by the dictates of his job. So I save us both the trouble of explaining anything by just handing him my official escort pass. Drone Strike, bless his old historic soul, thankfully just silently reads the pass to himself this time.
After taking an eternity to slowly read the pass he nods his head nonce. Striker even gives me a thumbs-up as he hands the pass back to me. It pretty clear that as far as this dude is concerned I am officially pimped out to someone else's problem, and therefore completely out of his preview forevermore. To his credit for the entire rest of the year, Striker will never again ask me to show him whit again. No matter when I decide to stroll into History, he just gives me a thumbs up, like I am doing the gods work. Then just goes on about his deadly business of sharing His Story.
To be honest. I get the distinct impression that Drone Strike is seriously just counting the days until his pension kicks in. When he can just rest at home watching all his favorite old movies on the "Free Cable". He is so done with teaching the death's of tomorrow, that he doesn't even make us call him Mr. anymore. Just plain "Striker" will do just nicely guys ...now be quiet and watch the movie. This next part has a really good close up of Liz's original cleavage.
So after narrowly escaping the lair of the Sleestak Queen, I settle into His Story and watch on as Mark Anthony ends up really regretting his choice in girlfriends. Then I drone through the rest of my day until Doomsday. At five minutes to midnight, just before Dr. Doom is done showing us why we are all going to die when the oceans rise up and kill Malibu. I flash the pass and head out into the halls of Hell. Now that I have a copy of May's schedule, thanks to my brand new handy pass. I know where May is coming from, so she can't ninja up on me unsuspected anymore.
I casually cruise over to the auditorium, where apparently the theater class is acting up again, to snatch up May at the end of her class. I slip into the back of the auditorium where everyone is still acting like they are too cool to care. Where I easily spot May seating in the cheap seats off to the side.
"Zup Maybe." I drop down next to her on the floor. "It is like I ...Darren of Dean? You're official male escort and whit."
"Omigod, tell me you're a call-boy now!" May is immediately giggling peels of laughter at my expense.
"Yep, it's official and everything." I laugh along. "After I left you in the Ferns, Mrs. Saint C totally pimped me out to you. To whit, I even got a special pass to get me out of class, and male escort you around. I mean, if that's cool with you?"
"Well, let me just think about that for a second." May pretends to think this thru, or at least I hope she is pretending. "Okay, Hell's yeah ...it's cool."
"Oh, and Mrs. Saint C says I don't have to get detentions to read to you in Study Buddies anymore? So like it's cool if I just read to you outside of detention? Like it's a thing now?"
"Wait ...I think you get paid for that?" May is now scowling slightly.
"So she said," I grunt. "But I told her I don't want the money. That I'd be happy do it anyways, so we can kick it together?"
"Okay." The frown slowly dissipates. "But you're still taking the money, right?"
"Naw not, it's all coo'cool." I reassure her on my coolness.
"No, it's not all coo'cool." I can clearly see that May is going to start digging in on this money thing. "You're taking the money, or else I won't agree. And I still have a say on who my reader is, so end of story."
"Ah, that not what I signed up for May. So San Fall bullwhit aside, back in my world taking money to help out a friend is just plain wrong. It's the complete opposite of being cool, and very bad karma. No namastes at all."
"Okay, karmic coolness aside, think about it?" May counters evenly. "If you aren't reading to me, you could be studying on your own? Or working at the Annex to make extra money? Or pretty much out doing anything you wanted to? Truthfully, I don't really need that much reading to maintain my steady C- average? And the last time I checked pizza and movie ain't free? So either we get paid to hang out in Study Buddies, win-win for everyone or..." She leaves me hanging in the wind.
I so do not like this "Win-Win" whit at the moment. But a possible solution suddenly occurs to me that I do like. Pizza?
"Okay, I'll take the money, but on two conditions." I hesitantly agree with her. "First, it's not my money ...it's our money. So you hold whatever origami we pull in for Friday Date Night or whatever else we do. And second, if I am gonna be escorting you around, you have to teach me how to walk with you better."
"Okay, we can do that." She nods slowly. "But not around other people at school? I do not wish to be another spectacle."
Since a couple of lunches ago, I've learned that May has a thing about being watched. I am not sure whether it's the inherent inequity of the situation? Or just because she is a private person by nature? Either way, I know this is a May thing that I have to respect.
"Okay, then how about we go check out that park place behind school then?" I offer up a possible alternative. "According to Guys Mike there is all kinds of strangeness abound up there, so we should fit right in?"
"Alright." May slowly starts to smirk. "But you know this means that I own your ass now, right?"
"So the Sleestak Queen implied." I snort in retort.
"Omigawd ...this is going to be so much fun! Just a gigolo, bro?" May starts to giggle again, and it occurs to me that I really do love that sound.
So we drop her bowling ball bag off at her locker, head across the back parking lot and into the conjoined park behind the school. The Hillside park is long green that ascends up into the hills above Hell, with wide trails winding on both sides of the wide green. With smaller offshoot trails leading off to various small picnic areas, with tables under corrugate shade shelters. As we walk off campus and up into the park, I start to describe the path we're on per her request. Every now and then she will stop me and ask what a specific sound in question is.
Like the hazers and blazers playing Frisbee golf down the long greens, and then move on to the birds and trees.
Further up the hills where the oak trees grow thicker and the crushed rock trails all but disappear to dirt paths out into perfect rattlesnake ambush overgrowth. I've run the hills a couple of times during the summer, so I know most of the main trails well enough to navigate up with May. Also Guys Mike was definitely right about one thing ...apparently, there are plenty of places to make out and get your freak on. As I spot more than a few kids from school who are taking advantage of that freaky fact. We eventually get to a lonely clearing with a nice picnic table under a shade shelter, and even more importantly a decent sized flat area to stroll around in.
"Okay, so how do we do this thing?" I inquire as casually as I can.
"Well, there's really only a couple of ways we can do this. There's me leading you, and you watching out for any obvious obstacles. Then there is you guiding me around..." May informs me evenly. "...but not leading me like you are walking a pet."
"Which way do you prefer?"
"Personally, I prefer to walk on my own." May muses over our most recent awesome awkwardness. "Unless it's a situation like the movie theater? Where there is an obvious issue of unstable or dangerous terrain."
"Okay, so I've watched you and April walking a couple of times. But that dance looks is nothing like what you're describing. So how do you and April do it so effortlessly?"
"That's different, we've always had a skinship sister thing." She frowns down and twists her fingers around.
Yeah, like how two sharks will almost crash into each other. Then they just seem to shiver, swimming side by side touching fins without a thought.
"You have to understand that April and I have been walking together since April was old enough to walk. Hell's bells we practically learned to walk at the same time? So skinwalking together is like second nature for us?" She rocks her head thinking it through. "Also April and I are also about the same height? So I get a sense of my way from how she shifts her body into and away from me, that I can't get from anyone else? She says is more like dancing around me, if that helps?"
"So how do I go about learning to do this secret skinship dance of yours better?" I inquire.
"Practice, maybe?" May shrugs. "For starters, I need to get used to how you move? And you need to understand that you're gliding along with me, not pulling or pushing me along?"
"Okay, that sounds cool. So tell me what to do?"
"Well, we probably want to start off by telling me what you are seeing in front of us when we walk. And of course, noting anything that could be dangerous. Oh, and until I get used to how you move, you should probably say a lot of things like: "Avast thar Maybe, there be stairs ahead!" Or "Caution Dead's Man's cliff coming up ahead!" As well as the approximate distance to my pending death? That might be nice to know as well." May smirks savagely. "Oh, and if you could sound like a pirate when you talk ...that would be just awesome sauce."
"Aye Maybe, awesomesauce for all," I grunt back at her piratically. Which seems to crack her up into another peel of giggles at my expense.
So I slowly begin to learn the lessons of the wraith. Which as far as I can tell so far, pretty much consists of staying out of May's way. All the way back in the damn shadows where I belong, at least until she actually needs the assistance.
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Backside: May thinks this "Male Escort Service" is the funniest whit she's ever heard. She even makes me change my assigned ringtone on her phone to "Just a Gigolo" just for whits and giggles.