Having A Rotten Time; Wish You Were
Here
A
Third Daina-n-Jerry Story
Nothing disturbed the
ghost of Alan Walker more than the idea of losing to anyone, the only exception
being losing to a black girl and the gay guy he was possessing. Revenge,
however, was going to be sweet enough to cover for that.
Alan smiled to himself with
the brilliance of his new plan, then coalesced in
Jerry's mind. "Stevie," he said aloud.
Within seconds, a four
year old boy, a ghost like Alan, stood before him in Jerry's subconscious, his
face shining with the innocence of youth. Suddenly, realization clouded his
brightness. "Oh, it's you, Alan. I'm not youw fwiend no more," he said, folding his arms and turning
his back on Alan.
"That's
friend," said Alan, enunciating the "r" sound. "Your friend."
"That's what I
said, dummy. I'm not youw fwiend
no more," returned Stevie coldly. Alan
considered going further, but realized it was pointless. The kid would grow out
of it the same way he'd grown into it. Besides, he had bigger things to discuss
with Stevie.
"Steven," said
Alan, suddenly as sweet and kindly as poisoned syrup, "I just wanted to
say I was sorry for scaring you last night. I should never have screamed at the
top of my lungs in your face while you slept."
"It's not funny and
you all the time do that to me," Stevie said
mournfully.
"You're right and I
really am sorry," Alan said, his face properly
remorseful. "Listen, I'm gonna make it up to
you. How would you like a new toy to play with?"
Stevie
gave him a dubious look. "Honest and for weally?"
"Really.
It's a neat kind of doll that laughs and cries and says lots of funny things
like 'let me go' and 'I wanna go home' ..."
"Well...I guess
that'd be okay," said Stevie frowning with
uncertainty. "Even though that's kinda weird
stuff to say..."
"Power Ranger dolls
say that sometimes," said Alan, subtly throwing in his baiting line.
"Nuh-uh," said Stevie,
completely missing the hook. "Powew Wanger dolls don't talk."
"The prisoner dolls
do," said Alan, dropping down on one knee.
"There's not no such a thing," Stevie
said. Like every other kid, Stevie was such an expert
on Mighty Morphin Power Ranger paraphernalia that he
was still missing Alan's point.
"No, there's not;
that's why I'm getting one specially made for you," Alan agreed.
Stevie's
eyes fairly danced. "Honest and fow weally?"
Alan restrained an
irritable eye roll. "Yes," he said firmly. "And you have to take
good care of it so I can bring you an even better one. One you can keep
forever. But you can't tell Jerry or he'll want one, too, and I can only bring
the one for you. Can you keep a secret like a big boy?"
"Uh-huh," Stevie said, the thrill of being trusted exuding from his
very pores. "I can, I weally can!"
"Okay," said
Alan, smiling a frighteningly winning smile as he stood up and turned away.
"Alannnnn!" Stevie
yelled, his little voice piercing Alan's very nerve endings.
"Yes?" he
asked.
"Which Powew Wanger are you gonna bwing me?" asked Stevie.
Here Alan was stuck. How
the *%$@! am I supposed to know the names of those
stupid..., he thought irritably. "Uh...which one do you want?" he
asked, hedging slightly.
"Jason!" Stevie said, doing his 4 year old impression of
professional karate and nearly blasting Alan in the nuts with a random kick.
Alan caught the boy's foot just as it was projecting itself dangerously close, then yanked the child up by that same leg.
"Fine," he
said, controlling his growing irritation. "The Black
Ranger, then."
"Alannnnn!" Stevie
shrieked with merriment. "Jason is the Wed Wanger!"
"Whatever,"
Alan replied, killing the urge to drop the brat on his head. He set Stevie down gently, then turned to
leave again, saying, "Now just wait here for me and I'll be back."
"Alannnnn!" Stevie
yelled.
"What?" Alan
demanded, not looking at him.
"I chang-jed my mind," he said simply. "I want Kimbewee instead!"
Alan turned with a sigh.
"Kimberly, fine, the, uh..." He began waving his hand as if trying to
remember.
"Pink Wanger!" said Stevie with a
giggle.
Figures, thought Alan to
himself. This fag stuff must be contagious. "Fine."
Alan groaned. "I'll be right back." He turned to open the door
nearest him and was about to go through it when Stevie
said,
"Alannnnn!"
Alan whirled on the boy, mounted into a fury and contained it again in one swift
motion. "Yes?" he asked, his fists and teeth clenched.
"Is Daina gonna give you that doll
for me to play with?" Stevie asked.
Alan nearly lost his
composure before he realized the kid couldn't possibly know. "Why do you
say that?"
"Because that door
goes to where she lives at her house in her head," Stevie
replied.
Without missing a beat,
Alan said, "That is why you have to take very good care of
this doll, Stevie and never let it out of your
sight, even for a minute. If you take good care of this one and
keep it a secret, she'll give you one that looks just like her.
Okay?"
"Okay," said Stevie, putting a finger to his lips. "It's my most secwetest secwet, Alan, I
promise."
"Good," Alan
said, almost desperately. He paused once more to look at Stevie,
just in case. The boy stood smiling and twisting the tip of his right Converse
into the floor, his questions apparently answered for the time being. Alan took
advantage of the momentary lull and disappeared behind the door...