Going Bovine
Page 147“Can you keep watch?” I ask, and then I remember how Gonzo got our asses stranded by not looking out for the bus. Seems like years ago. “Never mind. I’ll keep an eye out.”
“No, man. It’s okay. Get some sleep. I’m on it.” And I can tell he is.
“Thanks. You know, for everything. You’re a great wing-man,” I say.
Gonzo smirks. “Yeah. Well. That’s what you get when you sign up the Dwarf of Destiny, cabrón.”
I climb into the backseat, shut my eyes, and go to sleep.
I’m a roadrunner. I look down and see those big bird feet and that’s when I know I’m dreaming. I’m standing in the middle of a cartoon desert landscape. It’s two-dimensional, a bunch of squiggly lines and paint. There are no anvils rigged over my head. No fake holes painted on a backdrop. No explosives rigged to a fuse that will trigger a domino effect of roadrunner-snuffing devices. Nope. I’m alone out here. Just me. And then I see the coyote sitting in a chair, watching TV, his paw in a big bowl of popcorn, like he could care less. At first I think it’s a trap, but then I realize that he really doesn’t care about chasing me. I say, “Beep, beep,” and he keeps flipping channels with his remote. Finally, I give up and hop over to him.
“Aren’t you going to chase me?” I ask.
He looks at me. His yellow eyes are weary. “What’s the point?”
“Huh,” he says. He offers me some popcorn. I peck at it because I’m a bird now.
We sit watching cartoons. A tumbleweed rolls past. It’s really just a bunch of angry pencil marks made to look like motion, an illusion. I guess this is nice, but what I really want to do is run. But without the coyote chasing me, I don’t have a reason to run. Knowing he wants to catch me makes me keep going; and knowing I’m just out of reach makes him keep coming after me. We can’t really live without each other. That’s how it works.
“Come on,” I whisper in my bird voice. “Chase me. Just one more time.”
“Dude. Wakey-wakey.” Gonzo’s face looms over mine. “We got movement.”
I wipe the sleep from my eyes. Through the windshield I can see Employees #457 and #458 opening the back of the truck and loading a box onto the dolly. Two minutes later, they come out of the diner with the empty dolly, climb into the truck’s cab, and head back toward the interstate.
“Dude, aren’t we following them?” Gonzo asks.
“Gotta check the diner first,” I say, making my way toward the door. My legs have really stiffened up.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “We’re sort of in a hurry. We were just wondering about that box of snow globes that was delivered? Could we check them, please?”
Her thumb hovers over the silent alarm button near the cash register. Buddha Burger had one of those. “We don’t let people just check out our snow globes till they been inventoried.”
“Inventoried?” Gonzo mouths.
My eyes flash a Don’t Go There signal. I’ve got to see if Dulcie’s in that box. “I’m sorry. I’m with quality control. We think you may have gotten one of our tainted shipments.”
“Tainted?” the hostess repeats, her smile gone. “What’s that mean?”
“There might be something wrong with them. Really wrong. Like laced-with-poison wrong.”
Her hand flies to her mouth. “Omigosh. We better call the police, then.”
The hostess’s eyes narrow. She looks from me to Gonzo and back again. “Is this some kind of prank? Are y’all with a fraternity?”
I shake my head. “You got us. It is a prank”—I steal a look at her name tag—“Freedom LaToya. Actually, we’re casting for a new reality TV show.”
Freedom LaToya’s eyes get very big. “For real?”
“You bet. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but …” I make a show of craning my neck left and right. “It’s set in a restaurant and it’s all about finding the perfect restaurant hostess. In fact, it’s called The Hostess. United Snow Globe Wholesalers is the sponsor. You know, you’d make a great candidate. I’m gonna let them know.”