Monster - A. Lee Martinez [13]
In his van, Monster woke Chester. The paper gnome didn’t unfold all the way, only allowing his head to poke out of the square. “What time is it, boss?”
“Early. We’ve got a call.”
Chester said, “I believe the terms of service were eight p.m. to six a.m. Three personal days a year, Hanukkah and Arbor Day off, and one floating holiday.” He stretched. His body crinkled as the wrinkles smoothed out.
“Quit bitchin’ and get the paperwork ready. If I’ve got to work, so do you.”
Charlene came over the radio. She sounded a little more bored than usual, if that was possible, as she gave the details. Something small and hairy had popped up in a closet.
It took longer than it should’ve to reach the call. Monster wasn’t accustomed to daytime traffic. He got stuck in a freeway jam, and it didn’t improve his mood.
The Oak Pines apartment complex was a blankness that defied description. Four blocks of brick with eight apartments each. He parked his van and rummaged through the supplies in the back.
“That’s odd,” said Chester. “Yeah.” Monster found a five-by-five piece of cardboard. “What’s that?”
“Trees can be either oaks or pines. I don’t think they can be both.”
“Fascinating.” Monster gathered half a dozen markers of assorted colors and stuck them in his pocket. “I’ll be sure to notify the management.”
Someone pounded on the van’s back door. Monster threw it open and stepped out to confront an angry apartment manager. He leveled a finger at Monster and snarled.
“You can’t park here. Residents only.”
Monster glanced around. There were plenty of spaces available.
“The city sent me,” he said.
The manager glowered suspiciously. “I didn’t call the city.” Chester said, “Excuse me, sir, but we’ve been called about a possible closet infestation in apartment twelve. Possibly a troll or a wodwose.”
Like any incognizant, the manager refused to acknowledge that he was talking to a paper man. Monster sometimes wondered how that worked, how the incogs perceived the universe. Did the manager substitute an easier image, like making Chester into a really short, very thin guy? Or did he just glance over the details and not even bother subconsciously making excuses? Even the cognizant weren’t sure how it worked—not exactly. It was like trying to imagine how a bat used sonar to see the world. The result was easy to observe. The wiring wasn’t. It wasn’t really important to know, but Monster couldn’t help but be curious sometimes.
However the manager justified or ignored it, he snatched the paperwork from Chester and spent a minute fuming over it. It satisfied him without lessening his unpleasantness.
He showed them to an apartment. He grew grumpier with every step, which was saying a lot. By the time he knocked on the door, he was a tense knot of awkward rage.
“I knew she had a pet in there,” he said to Monster.
A young woman opened the door. The same young woman from the Food Plus Mart. Her gaze lingered on Monster with vague recollection.
“These people are from the city.” The manager jerked his thumb at Monster. “And they say you have some kind of illegal pet in there.”
“Actually, sir, we believe it’s more of an unwelcome pest,” Chester tried correcting. “Miss Hines did call us, after all.”
The man either didn’t hear or ignored it. “You’re not allowed pets.”
Monster and Chester slipped into the apartment, but Judy blocked the doorway to prevent the manager from entering. They started arguing, though Monster deliberately avoided listening. He went to the kitchenette and helped himself to a glass of water, waiting for the discussion to end. The finish came when Judy abruptly slammed the door in the guy’s face.
She fixed Monster with a curious look. “Don’t I know you?”
“Last night,” he replied. “You killed my yeti.”
Slowly, realization dawned in her face. “Yeah, the abominable snowman. That’s right.” She frowned. “You’re the guy with the paper man.”
“Paper gnome,” corrected Chester. “The guy with the paper gnome.”
Judy squinted up at the ceiling. “I’d forgotten all about that. How could