Monster - A. Lee Martinez [32]
“Did you get it?” asked Judy. “Got them. There were two.” He held up two gray rocks in his palm. “Surprised you stayed in the car.”
“Didn’t want to get rabies.”
Monster chuckled. “Gargoyles don’t carry rabies.”
Judy brushed Chester off her shoulder. He folded himself into his gnomish shape and shrugged.
“Are you ready to go?” asked Monster.
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
Judy took a long drag of her cigarette before flicking the stub at Chester. It bounced off his paper body, burning a small hole in it.
“What was that about?” said Monster. “Nothing to worry about, boss,” replied Chester. “You get used to it in this job. Protoplasm can be touchy.”
9
Monster didn’t answer a lot of calls, going after only a few. He offered excuses, saying he didn’t have the right equipment, that it was too far, or the rescue fee wasn’t worth the trouble. But Judy knew he was just taking the easy ones because he didn’t want her getting in the way. The few calls he did answer were simple stuff: some gremlins (resembling scaly hamsters), an attercroppe (a snake with arms and legs), and a grylio. The grylio looked like a polka-dotted iguana, but Monster warned her that it was extremely venomous. He was immune, so it wasn’t much trouble for him, even if it did sink its teeth into the tender flesh between his thumb and forefinger. But he was used to getting bitten and just slapped a Band-Aid on the wound.
“Guess we should call it a night,” said Monster as the first hints of dawn lit the sky.
“Guess so,” she agreed.
Monster studied her out of the corner of his eye. She was down, and he supposed she had the right. She’d had a bad run of luck lately, and it didn’t look to be getting any better in the future. Incognizants ignored the magic around them with ease, but light cogs had a rough time in this world, always struggling to make sense of things they couldn’t quite grasp but couldn’t quite forget either.
Monster pulled in to a diner with a pasted-on 1950s sensibility.
“Want some breakfast?” asked Monster. “On me.”
“Sure,” said Judy, without enthusiasm. She wasn’t hungry, but she wasn’t in a rush to get back to Paulie’s place.
The diner was all chrome and neon. The Big Bopper played on the jukebox. Maybe later in the day it might’ve been charming, but after a long night, it just seemed tiresome. Most of the other customers were starting their day while Monster and Judy were finishing theirs. Nobody seemed to really care about anything other than coffee and breakfast. Surprisingly, the drowsiness of the customers didn’t seem to register with the waitstaff, all of whom appeared overjoyed to be working there.
A teenager, looking very much the part in poodle skirt and sneakers, flashed a gleaming smile. “Hi, I’m Chipper.”
“I noticed,” said Judy.
Chipper tittered, and it was probably the first time Judy had seen someone ever legitimately titter. “Right this way!”
She sat them at a booth, took their drink orders, and skipped away. She skipped back, and Judy was mildly impressed that someone could skip with two mugs of coffee without spilling a drop.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” she said. “This is a No Smoking building.”
Judy tapped the cigarette on the table. “Have you ever watched any old movies?”
Chipper nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I love them.”
“Then you’ll notice that everyone in old movies smokes. All the time. Even when they’re in church. Hell, even when they’re in intensive care, they’re lighting up. So if this is an actual authentic fifties dining experience, then I think it’s reasonable to expect that I can smoke.”
Chipper’s smile never faded. “We aren’t going for the total experience, ma’am. I mean, if we were going to be accurate, all the black customers would have to be seated in the back of the restaurant. And we wouldn’t want that, now, would we, ma’am?”
“She’s gotcha there,” said Monster.
Chipper took their order, managing to squeeze in two more ma’ams in Judy’s direction, before skipping off into the kitchen.
“Sorry it wasn’t more exciting,” said Monster finally, “but that’s just not the way this works. Usually.