8. CHAPTER #3
Dill suddenly materialized with a roar, standing behind Indy and having grown to such a size that his antlers scraped the ceiling. “Grow!”
Indy spun around and held up his hands. “Easy, easy! It’s fine, Dill! It’s—”
Dill squeaked in terror as he stared at the hood on Indy’s head, promptly dropping to the floor as—what else?—a pickle.
Indy groaned loudly and jerked the hood off his head. “Dill, it’s fine. It’s not a monster or something, I promise. It’s just a hedgehog that some asshole thought was funny.”
“Very funny and very fitting. Matches your hair.” Mr. Heiss bowed his head, his lips brushing right up against Indy’s ear. “And you do like to go so fast.”
“I’m about to go fast upside your fucking—” Indy swung out to smack at Mr. Heiss, but he was already gone. He looked down again at the ridiculous outfit, screamed in frustration, and then took several very deep breaths.
The pickle, Dill, squeaked.
“Come here, babe.” Indy kneeled to pick up Dill and cradle him close, indignation and rage still surging through him. “Let’s go get drunk, huh? Can you get drunk? Let’s find out.”
Dill squeaked again.
“Okay. Yes. We’re taking that as a yes.” Indy carried Dill with him into the kitchen. He thought Gammy might still be in here working on the potion, but there was no sign of her or any crafting. When he opened the fridge, however, he did see booze and all the soda he’d mentioned. “Cool.”
He poured himself a drink of crunchy proportions, and while he was pouring, he heard RuPaul’s trademark cackle. He poured more when he realized how similar it sounded to Mr. Heiss’s.
Ugh.
He trudged back to the living room to find Gammy sprawled on the couch with the TV remote close by and RuPaul Drag’s Race blaring away.
He didn’t want to process Mr. Heiss’s teasing, much less how it had made him feel, and he flopped down beside Gammy with a groan.
“Where are we at? Did you go back and watch Chi Chi’s lip sync? ”
“Yes!” Gammy cheered. “It was so beautiful. Such an absolute tragedy, you know.”
“Yeah. RIP.”
“What in the world are you wearing?”
“Jammies. Mr. Heiss. Don’t ask.” Indy watched the TV for a few moments so he could figure out what episode they were on. “Okay, the book ball. Right. Got it.”
“Don’t you dare spoil anything.”
“Nope. Not a word.” Indy drew a line over his mouth like a zipper.
Gammy cleared her throat noisily. “Your, uh, juice is almost done.”
Indy sighed in relief. “Great. Wonderful. Love it. Thank you.”
“Why are you holding a pickle?”
“It’s Dill. Apparently Stitch scares him.”
“Aren’t you Sonic?”
“Whatever.”
“Have you eaten yet, sweetie cakes?”
“What? No.” Indy snorted out a laugh. “Sorta forgot with all the kidnapping and shit.”
“Come on! I’ll see what I can get done in that kitchen and—”
“Ah ah, stay put,” Indy chided as he pulled himself to his feet. “You’ve already been cooking lots of stuff and I need a refill anyway—”
A bottle of Captain Morgan hundred proof, a can of Dr Pepper, and a glass full of ice appeared on the table.
“Fine.” Indy huffed. “I will sit down now.” He used his teeth to pop open the can, and he heard Mr. Heiss growl from somewhere. He looked up to find him now standing in the doorway. “What? You rip people’s heads off but that bothers you?”
Mr. Heiss scoffed. “Worried you’ll break a nail?”
“Yes, actually. And besides, teeth are tools.” Indy twanged the tab against his top teeth.
Mr. Heiss sighed loudly.
Indy smirked as he filled his glass and then added a healthy splash of rum.
“You two shush!” Gammy snapped. “I can’t hear Ru over your flirting!”
“Flirting?” Mr. Heiss growled indignantly.
“Please.” Indy kicked his plush feet at Mr. Heiss. “As if he’d know what to do with me.”
“Shush!” Gammy hissed.
Mr. Heiss rolled his eyes, but he didn’t say anything. He caught Indy’s eye and smirked.
“You know…” Indy took a sip of his drink and shrugged. “You could watch with us.”
“Excuse me?”
“The show. You could watch it with us.”
Mr. Heiss stared.
Indy scooted over to make room, patting the couch. “First, you bring your giant fuck face asshole ass over here and plant it. Then you turn off your brain and let the drag queens entertain you. We can take bets on who’s gonna win the Lip Sync For Your Life.”
“What the fuck is that?”
“Sit down and find out. But keep the bets clean, okay? None of your usual perverted shit. Gammy is right here.”
Mr. Heiss scoffed and rolled his eyes again, but he slowly walked over to sit beside Indy. He summoned a drink to his hand—more of the black swirly stuff he’d had before—scowling as he stared at the screen. “And what is happening right now?”
“Bob the Drag Queen is about to lip sync against Derrick Berry. Because they were both in the bottom, so they gotta do this to decide who stays in the competition.”
“What?”
“Just shut up and watch.”
Mr. Heiss deepened his scowl. “Why is there thunder?”
“It’s dramatic,” Indy whispered. “Now shut up.”
“It’s stupid.”
“You’re stupid.”
“Why is that one tearing up her dress?”
“Hush, just watch.”
“Isn’t that bad?”
“It’s fine, she wins.”
“Spoilers!” Gammy screamed.
“Sorry!”