MisStaked (6 page)

For some reason he got the feeling she didn't want to let him out of her sight. Stud even commented as much when she left them to use the facilities. Of course the diminutive demon termed it differently. Breathred couldn't see how he could get any luckier than he already was, and what did cards have to do with anything? They weren't even playing cards. The chimp could be strange at times.

The telephone rang, driving a spike into his already aching head. Breathred glanced over at the clock. Who would be calling at 11:57 in the morning? Oh crap! He had overslept.

Breathred jumped out of bed to find his legs were in no shape for such an endeavor. He tripped over his clothes in his hurry to stop the pounding. Breathred barely missed colliding with the couch. An impromptu spin saved him from anything worse than bruised pride.

The phone kept up its incessant ringing. He plunged through the remainder of the makeshift living room to where the phone normally rested. In its place Stud lay sleeping in nothing but his “The King Lives” boxers. Breathred skidded to a stop in front of him. The underwear was in an unseemly position. He shook his head in disgust. The little pervert was having the Estelle Getty dream again.

Picking up a stick he kept around for these occasions, Breathred jabbed the stick into his side, flipping the creature off of the phone. Stud landed with a wet thump and emitted a noxious explosion that sent Breathred gasping for breath, but made no sign of waking. Just as well. Breathred couldn't stand the idea of dealing with him just yet. The underwear would have to come off before he even thought about waking the chimp.

He eyed the phone suspiciously. Grabbing his ever-ready bottle of Lysol from the bookshelf beside the phone, Breathred gave it a healthy dose and gave Stud a shot for good measure. Satisfied the phone was now safe to touch, he picked up the receiver.

"Hello,” he grumbled.

"Is this Mr. Breathred Petrifunck?” a husky female voice asked.

"You're not a telemarketer are you?” he asked back, ready to slam the phone down.

"No, my name is Professor D. L. Grayson. I'm calling in response to your ad."

"Well, in that case you have reached the offices of
Petrifunck Paranormal
. How may I be of service?"

"Now that I have you on the line, I'm really not sure,” Dr. Grayson admitted.

Breathred answered in his best businesslike tone, “Please be assured I will hold this conversation in the strictest of confidence. Feel free to discuss your situation."

"This is not something I wish to discuss over the phone. Is there any way we can meet later today?"

"My calendar is free any time this afternoon, I can meet you then, if it's convenient,” Breathred said, giving himself a gold star for his professionalism.

"I have a free hour after five before my evening class starts at six. Can we possibly meet then?"

"Of course. I and my associate would be more than happy to meet you then."

"Good. I'll be in the Science building at the college. Do you know where it's located?"

"Yes, I am familiar with the campus.” Breathred said, not wanting her to know he had no idea where it was, but Luna did.

"You will find me in room 507. I guess I'll see you then, Mr. Petrifunck. If possible, I'd like for you to keep this between you and me for the moment,” Professor Grayson repeated.

"You have my word this will go no further than my ears,” Breathred reassured her.

"Till then, Mr. Petrifunck,” she said, and hung up.

Breathred fell back into his chair. This was all just too much. Two clients in two days! That had to be some kind of record. True he had only made a buck and some change on the first one, but this one would be different. She was a professor. Professors never cheated anybody, like mean old ladies did.

This would be a good day. Wait a minute. Today was Wednesday. What did Wednesday mean? Comic book day! A client and comic book day, what more could a man ask for?

For those of you who have no concept what all the hoopla is all about, it's quite simple. Every comic book company ships their comics to a main distributor. Then the distributor sends the comic books to select dealers on Wednesday. To any most right-thinking people, this has no bearing whatsoever on their lives. Not so the comic book fan. In expectation of said event every Tuesday, a massive gathering is planned by the comic-buying community to go to their own private Mecca.

This event doesn't happen once a year or even once every month. No, every week. That's fifty-two times a year and happens as regular as clockwork, barring national holidays. To a geek like Breathred, it was like having Christmas fifty-two times a year. No other day invigorated him like Wednesdays. Birthdays didn't even come close.

But today was even more special. The latest issue of
Tales of the Undead
hit the shelves today. Of the multitude of titles populating the comic shelf, not to mention his floor, closet and bed, this was the only one that mattered. Aside from the Boffrend handbook, all 178 issues of the hallowed magazine taught Breathred everything he knew about vampire slaying.

He checked his alarm clock. Its red numbers proclaimed 12:32 pm. His late start didn't give him much time to get everything done by six. Planned just right, he might be able to squeeze it all in. The big thing was to get hold of Luna. She had morning classes and one overlapping the dinner rush at the Jumper.

To have any hope of catching her meant getting Stud up and running. He tossed the remote toward the sleeping monkey. It cracked the animal in the gut and sent him flying into the air. The chimp came down in his typical ninja stance. A disturbing thing to witness, especially since it was evident the Estelle Getty dream had yet to run its course.

"What in the bloody hell are you thinking?” Stud growled. “I could have Chimp Fu-ed the crap out of you."

"Stow it. We have to go.” Breathred shouted from the closet.

Stud crossed his hairy arms. “You may have to go, but this primate ain't going nowhere."

"We're going to the Jumper.” Breathred teased, pulling the underwear over his head.

"So, what? Unlike you, I have no interest in mooning over Luna."

"Edith might be working.” Breathred smirked.

Stud rushed to his own closet. “Why didn't you say so, you dumb homosapien?"

Forty-five minutes later the pair walked into the Java Jumper. The place sat devoid of the majority of its lunch crowd. There were enough bodies to make Breathred feel self-conscious of the leering eyes as he and Stud plopped down at the counter. On general principles, the slayer dismissed the majority of the stares.

Stud was more of a regular than most of the people in here. Breathred had been bringing the chimp in here for as long as he owned him, if anyone could be said to own the chimp. Sometimes Breathred got the distinct impression Stud saw the situation totally reversed.

Scanning the room, he saw no sign of Luna, but caught a glimpse of Edith roaming the far end of the counter. In the entire world, aside from Luna and Stud, she was the only person he willingly called his friend. Edith presented an imposing figure with skin the color of rich milk chocolate and a tall voluptuous figure, reminding Breathred of an Amazon, only one dressed in a blue waitress uniform.

"Hey sugah, be right with ya,” she yelled seeing him, her thick Southern accent floating across the room.

Breathred waved an enthusiastic hello, earning him a warm smile from the woman. His happiness at seeing his friend proved short lived. The smell of axel grease wafted across his nose. Rubbing the throbbing vein in his forehead, he looked over to see Stud running a comb through his pompadour with the look of lechery in the first degree on the chimp's face. Breathred felt the embolism coming at any minute. The chimp would be the death of him.

"You had better behave,” Breathred warned him.

"Like I would act otherwise around the delightful Miss Edith,” Stud whispered.

Breathred glanced around the room to make sure no one was listening to their conversation. “And remember, try not to talk too loud. We don't want you snapped up by some science freako."

Stud gave a silent shudder. Ever since they got the Discovery Science Channel, the chimp had developed a profound fear of scientists in general, which Breathred had found quite useful when dealing with Stud in social situations. By the time Breathred finished his warning, Edith had made her way over. He gave Stud a last eye twitch to reinforce the threat before turning to her.

"Well, boys what'll it be? The usual?” Edith asked.

"Nothing, I'm sorry to say. I was looking for Luna,” he mumbled, feeling bad about not ordering anything.

"She hasn't made it in, yet,” she answered, as she turned to Stud. “What about you, little man?"

"You know what I want, Hot Stuff."

"Monkey Boy, you couldn't handle what you want.” She shot him a disapproving look belying the laughter in her eyes.

"You know what they say...” Stud jumped up on the counter.

"And what would that be?” Edith asked, warily.

"Once you go chimp, everyone else seems limp.” He cocked his eyebrow.

"You know what sugah? That's the exact same thing I told my ex-husband right before I peeled his nut sack off with a spork,” Edith growled. “And if you don't get yo’ monkey ass off my counter, you'll find out about it firsthand.” To illustrate her point she pulled a cellophane-wrapped piece of plastic from her overflowing cleavage.

"Well of course propriety and all that,” Stud stammered, as he slid off the stained counter top.

"Do you want me to give her a message, Breathred?” she asked, clearly in no mood to put up with either of them for much longer.

"Yeah, tell her it's really important she gets a hold of me before five.” Breathred said, emphasizing the “really” and “important".

"Should I have her call your cell phone?” Edith asked, jotting down the message.

Breathred shot the chimp an angry glare. “No, have her call Stud's."

The woman let out a chuckle. “Lost yours again?"

"No, someone ran up my bill by calling 1-900-Hot Monkey Love."

Raising an eyebrow, Edith tapped the note before placing it in her apron pocket. “I'll be sure to give her the message as soon as she gets here."

Breathred swung his leg off the stool. “Well, we'd better get going."

Edith reached over and cupped his head back to hers before he could get up. “I know people who could put that monkey straight, if you know what I mean.” With a wicked smile she drew a line across her neck with her thumb.

"I'll keep it in mind,” he answered.

"You do that. Baby. Now, get,” she cackled, pushing him from the counter and toward the door.

Stud could tell Breathred felt better after leaving the coffee shop, in spite of not catching Luna at the Jumper. With Edith on the case the chimp couldn't very well see what they had to worry about, not that he was concerned to begin with. Breathred was doing enough stressing for the both of them. So all he had to do was survive a trip to Clint's Comic Emporium and, hopefully, they'd be home in time for
American Idol
.

He made it a point to stick close to his master on these little excursions. The chimp had no love for crowds. Unbeknownst to humans, they stink. They didn't just stink. They stank. The whole stinking lot of them smelled like a week-old burrito fart.

If the smell wasn't bad enough, they had the bad habit of patting him on the head and he hated it. He wasn't some dog. He was simian supreme, the height of the evolutionary scale. Until he learned differently, Stud would continue to consider humans a little above cattle, but not as low as insurance underwriters.

Avoiding a group of head patters if he ever saw one, Stud spotted the comic store before Breathred, which was a wonder. The boy definitely had it bad not to have spotted his own personal wet dream. The thought gave Stud pause.

What if his big buddy was growing up? The concept was disturbing. For the past three years he had been the only grownup in this relationship. A change in the status quo would be quite unsettling.

"Come on, Stud. The comics are in. The comics are in!” Breathred screamed with glee before taking off at a dead run toward the little shop.

Stud breathed a sigh of relief. All his worrying was for nothing. His little man-boy wasn't going anywhere just yet. Stud wobbled after him, content the world had not tilted on its axis for the foreseeable future.

Stud sauntered into the shop a full five minutes after Breathred. He was immediately assaulted by a wall of quivering flesh. It stopped him cold in his tracks.

A dead silence loomed over the shop's narrow confines. A few hushed conversations invaded the lull, but otherwise the room was void of sound. The shuffling of comics by the shop's owner was the only sound dominating the place.

Stud scrambled up to a wooden rack full of bargain discount back issues. This drew a sharp intake of breath from those closest to him. Bared teeth and an upturned middle digit silenced them.

Once atop his tower of periodicals, Stud had a full view of the shop. He caught sight of Breathred edging close to the sales desk.
Go get ‘em, boy, but I'm staying put
, Stud thought.

Breathred saw his bid for comic heaven dashed, as a pair of Goth twins pushed him to the back of the line. He knew from experience you didn't mess with those two. It wasn't that they were dangerous. They weren't, on the whole. It was just too hard to clean white-face and mascara out of your clothes once they touched you.

Breathred decided a few minute's wait wouldn't kill him. It would damage him mentally, but not kill him. He checked his watch. It was 2:57, three hours until his meeting with Dr. Grayson. How long could this realistically take?

An hour and a half later, Breathred saw the daylight at the end of the tunnel. After the Goth kids, came the Marvel junkies, then a horde of Gathering players descended in full regalia. Breathred knew when to back away, and this was the time to back away.

When the store finally emptied, Breathred emerged from the back issues and made his way to the counter. Clint, the store owner, gave him a tired smile. Exhaustion peppered his weary face. Despite the tired look, he happily retrieved Breathred's books from their cubical.