“We should go on a double date tonight,” Ghoul said.
I replied, “That sounds like a terrible idea.”
“Come on, whaddaya mean? Just look at me; I’m a stud muffin now.”
Ghoul skipped and bounced around our living room like a tenured acrobat warming-up for a performance. The last patch-job brought life to an exotic specimen that was equal parts Ecuadorian, Brazilian, Argentinian, and Chilean or Uruguayan nationality. He proclaimed that he was South America, and more than anything else, ready for action.
It will please you to know that I never learned his definition of action.
“I don’t know. Your face always decays faster than the rest of your body. Let’s see what Liz thinks about—
“I love it, let’s make it happen,” she poked her head in from the kitchen. “We’ll fix your face up and no one will notice… I hope.”
“Is it that bad?” he asked.
“Take a look and see for yourself,” I said.
The mirror hanging from the living room wall provided Ghoul with his needed affirmation. Brown skin drooped and certain spots on his jawline sagged from premature dislocation. The once handsome mane of ebony hair was now frayed with exposed spots of scalp tinged with sickly green decay. His ear lobes looked like molded sprouts shooting from a rotted boiling potato.
“It’s not that bad,” he said. “I’m sure a little foundation will do the trick, right Liz?”
She shook her head no, and started to work.
It didn’t surprise me that Ghoul had a date already lined up along with a reservation for four at Le Petite Morris, Knowlton’s very own Michelin Star recipient restaurant. The menu for the night entailed of four courses I couldn’t even pronounce or envision that my palate would ever enjoy.
“Come on, it’ll be fun. No need to be a Grumpy-Gus,” Liz said as she straightened my tie. “What did you have planned for us anyways? Pizza and a movie?”
I weaved a tale of a romantic evening that I did not plan as the sarcasm in her question indicated that was the last thing she wanted for Valentine’s Day. I did give myself credit for remembering flowers and chocolates. Liz put serious effort into our date. Her red dress flowed to slender calves and her hair was styled like a bridesmaid with a single goal of outshining the entire wedding party. I can say that I’ve never seen her this stunning before tonight. Ghoul on the other hand….
He slipped the Valet a twenty and tipped his top hat to the Maître d’ as we were checked off his list.
“The Madame awaits, Mr. Valdez.”
“Excellent, thank you Jeeves,” said Ghoul.
The Maître d’ muttered a sharp string of French and I could sense the insults within. Ghoul only shrugged, stating that if anyone dressed like that then they must be a butler.
We found our table with ease and Ghoul’s date was polishing-off a tall glass of dark wine.
He leaned in and whispered, “She looks nothing like the picture.”
“You met her on a dating app, what did you expect?”
His date stood and waddled over to us.
“Which one of you gorgeous gents in Juan Valdez?”
I snorted a laugh and nudged Ghoul forward.
“Here he is, Mr. Juan Valdez himself.”
Ghoul sheepishly reached out to shake her hand but Cyndi—yes, with an ‘I’—bear hugged him and lifted him from the ground. She must’ve weighed nearly two-fifty and was surprisingly solid muscle. Those biceps rippled and her veins throbbed with alcohol thinned blood pumping like an opened sluice gate.
“Give me a kiss, sugar,” said Cyndi.
Ghoul was quick with the turn of his head and Cyndi’s lips sucked his cheek. His top hat fell to the ground and a mass of foundation smushed over his flabby skin.
“Yes… it’s very nice to meet you, too… can’t breathe, though… can you put me down….”
“Oh, sorry hon.”
We took our seats and Cyndi pulled Ghoul flush with her massive thigh. She wore a sleeveless baby-blue dress with glitter covering her immense chest, face and neck. Shoulder length blonde hair was in a messy bun and her eyeliner caked over her brow.
“God you’re so hot,” she moaned to Ghoul. “I thought you would’ve been an obese slug from your dating profile. I’m so glad I decided to come.”
Ghoul ordered a few bottles of wine while a pretentious appetizer was served.
“So what do you do for work, Cyndi?” asked Liz.
Cyndi was good at small talk and tonight, Ghoul excelled at drinking. She explained that she owned her own towing company and had always lived in Knowlton. The girls kept the conversation steady while Cyndi smiled with voracious lust to Ghoul whenever he paid attention to her instead of the bottle he hauled off. I could tell his mind was trying to embrace her in some way, and the alcohol was beginning to help. He relaxed when the main course arrived and began to indulged his date until his face began to turn ashen.
“Oh my god Sam, he’s choking.”
“Nah, he’s fine. What’s the worst that could happen anyways?”
Cyndi hopped to her fit and hoisted Ghoul from his chair, pulling under his sternum with her lunchbox sized hands until Ghoul spat out a partially chewed hunk of wine coated steak along with pieces of his lung.
“You alright, sugar?” She pushed Ghoul into her canyon sized cleavage and rocked him back and forth like a mother ushering a newborn to sleep. “You had me so scared.”
Ghoul locked his eyes to hers and said,
“Just hold me a little longer, baby.”
She did, and Ghoul went home with her number.
© Copyright John Potts Jr 2016 – 2017. All rights reserved.