hey little sister what have you done?
When Curtis didn't show-up last night to watch Lost I was worried, so I went over to make sure he was okay. I got out of my car in front of his house. The street lights flickered ominously as I made my way up the sidewalk. I rang the bell, but no one answered. The house was dark and quiet.
I stepped off the porch and walked down the driveway along the side of the house. Hot, white light emitted in a burst from one of the basement windows then faded slowly. I could see Curtis through the window in what appeared to be... a white wedding dress and yellow rubber gloves up to the elbow. He was standing over a table draped with a sheet. I tapped on the window and he looked up at me, obviously startled. He pointed toward the ceiling, instructing me to go back to the front door.
I walked back around to the front of the house and waited. Soon a light came-on in the living room and the door opened. It was a wedding gown, and it had been cut down the front with three big buttons sewn to the front, making it look like an overcoat
"You ditch me for a hot date tonight?"
"What time is it?" Curtis asked. "Oh dude, I missed the show didn't I?"
"You didn't miss much. The newbs are still boring, Sayid killed a bitch. So are you going to tell me why you're wearing this dress? Months of mocking are already in order, which I figure can stretch to years with the why."
"I didn't have a lab coat, but mom's old dress was in the attic so it had to do." Curtis showed me inside. "I guess time got away from me. There's only a couple of hours left and Valentine's Day will be over." Curits turned and headed toward the basement door. I followed him, understandably curious. We descended the steps and nothing could've prepared me for what Curtis said next. "I'm building a woman."
"Uhhhh..." I started, not sure how to reply to that.
"I know it sounds," the tone of his voice dropped drastically, "mad," then went back to its normal pitch, "bro. But, I hate not having a girlfriend on Valentine's Day."
"Join the club," I muttered.
"Yeah but, you've got all those Idol groupies, bro. You sat at home alone and watched TV because you're a looooooooser."
"And building a girlfriend in your basement is... healthy? Besides, most of the LJ Idol groupies are, how should I say this? Fucking psycho?"
"I was just fucking with you. Are there really LJ Idol groupies?"
"Sad, but true. Actually, I think one of them is stalking me."
"No shit?! That's awesome. What's her name?" Curtis had led me through the basement during this exchange. We were now standing beside the table with the sheet draped over it. There was something under the sheet, running the length of it. Beside the table was a desk with a computer and some other pieces of electronic equipment. Wires ran haphazardly betweem then and under the sheet. I was lost in thought, looking at the surreal display before me. Curtis asked again, "Dude. What's her name?"
"Ummm, Randi."
"It's a dude?"
"No, Randi with an I," I said absent mindedly. "What do you have under there, Curtis? You haven't been grave robbing again, have you? You remember all the trouble you got into last time, right?"
Curtis chuckled, "No, I'm still on probation from that." Curtis, for a time, had tried picking-up girls at funeral parlors. He'd scan the newspaper for rich people who had died then go to the visitation claiming to be an old friend. He was convinced that openly weeping at the side of the casket would make him seem attractively sensitive and vulnerable. He had been to two different visitations that day. At the second one, he accidentally dropped the phone number he got from a girl at the first one into the casket. Later when he couldn't find it, he took it upon himself to retrieve it. "Don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing."
"She was hot," I admitted. "Wasn't she the one who turned you in?"
"Yeah, I had told her a story about how me and her dead uncle had bought matching ties at the mall and that it was hard to see him being buried in it. So when I went back to get the digits, I grabbed his out of the casket while I was there. Thought it'd make a nice touch to the story some day, you know, to wear the 'matching' tie? I wore it to her sorority formal. Who has their ties monogrammed? I thought it was the brand name or something." Curtis picked up the yellow kitchen gloves that were laying on top of the sheet. He snapped them on dramatically.
"If you don't have severed body parts under there Curtis, why the gloves and the, uh, lab coat?"
Curtis looked at me like I was the crazy one. "Dude, there are rules about being a mad scientist. Like, lab coat, rubber gloves... and electricity. I wasn't lucky enough to have a thunderstorm tonight so I took apart the 220 volt socket behind the dryer, spliced one of those heavy duty orange extension cords to it. Then I took the switch out of the breaker box and hard wired the incoming current to that socket.
"That would explain the street lights flickering."
Curtis began laughing, that deep cackle of a mad scientist. "That fucking rules. So, like, is 'Randi with an I' not a babe?"
"Dude, she's like 15."
Curtis looked at me silently, like he was waiting for more. When I didn't say anything he asked, "Yeah, but, is she hot?"
"Curtis, didn't you go to jail for that, too?"
"How the hell was I supposed to know she was only 14. She looked at least 16." Curtis, for a time, had tried picking-up girls at roller-skating rinks. He'd wear his old highschool class ring and skate backwards a lot. Then, during the couples-only songs, he'd stand alone looking sensitive and vulnerable in the blacklight and disco-ball sparkle. I'm not telling the rest of this story and it's a good thing the back seat of his Oldsmobile Cutlass couldn't talk.
"You don't... have a live, willing participant under there do you?" I asked.
"If I had a live, willing participant I wouldn't be building a woman." Curtis grabbed the sheet and ripped it off the table with a flourish. Lying on the table was a collage of images, representing various body parts, pieced together with Scotch tape over the form of a female mannequin. Where the breasts were, Curtis had balanced two large canteloupes and there were wires coming out of them, leading to the hardware on the desk.
I gasped audibly. "Dude, that's... scary, but in an awesome kind of way."
"I know, right? Bro, check it out. I've got Debra Messing's hair taped at the top. You see if you can guess the rest."
I looked over the photos. "Ok, the nose is definitely Elizabeth Montogomery."
"Right on, bro. Could there be any other nose on the perfect woman? I think not."
There was a photo of bikinied breasts over the canteloupes. "Heidi Klum, right?" I asked poiting at them.
"Rock on," Curtis said beaming with pride.
"The knees are Scarlett Johansson, I know them anywhere. Those are aren't her thighs though?"
"Maria Sharapova, dude."
"Holy shit you're brilliant Curtis! And the calves?"
"Jane Russell. She's on the hips, too."
"I'm surprised you didn't put her on the canteloupes. The mouth is... oh shit what's her name? Um... Claire Danes?"
"Yup. I always melt when she does that little frowny-smile thing."
"I notice you have the eyes and cheekbones as a single photo. It looks familiar but I can't place it. Great eyes."
"Imagine a mask over it."
I gazed a little longer. "Dude! Earth Kitt?"
"Meow!" we said in unison.
"You can't see it, but Beyonce's ass is underneath the mannequin."
"Excellent choice. So what's the plan here, Curtis?"
Curtis looked around. "Well, I think everything is ready to go. I was doing a power test when you tapped on the window." He handed me a pair of welder's goggles and began putting on his. "You ready for this, bro?"
I placed the strap over my head and put the dark lenses over my eyes. "Totally," I said and stepped back from the table. Curtis reached for a switch on the desk and flipped it. The hot, white light I had seen from the driveway flashed and filled the basement. A large buzzing sound accompanied it for maybe 10 seconds then there was a loud POP and the light was gone. All the lights and the equipment on the table went out as well. Judging from the darkness of the basement windows, the power was gone from the whole block.
I removed my goggles. The smell of cooking canteloupe was overpowering and small orange flames danced on the table as the pictures curled on the mannequin in the heat. In the light of the fire I walked over to Curtis and patted him on the back of his white wedding dress.
"Well Curtis, tomorrow is another day," I said. "A nice day to..."
Curtis shook his head at me, daring me to finish.
"...STARRRRT AGAAAAAAAAAAAAAIN. YOW!"
I stepped off the porch and walked down the driveway along the side of the house. Hot, white light emitted in a burst from one of the basement windows then faded slowly. I could see Curtis through the window in what appeared to be... a white wedding dress and yellow rubber gloves up to the elbow. He was standing over a table draped with a sheet. I tapped on the window and he looked up at me, obviously startled. He pointed toward the ceiling, instructing me to go back to the front door.
I walked back around to the front of the house and waited. Soon a light came-on in the living room and the door opened. It was a wedding gown, and it had been cut down the front with three big buttons sewn to the front, making it look like an overcoat
"You ditch me for a hot date tonight?"
"What time is it?" Curtis asked. "Oh dude, I missed the show didn't I?"
"You didn't miss much. The newbs are still boring, Sayid killed a bitch. So are you going to tell me why you're wearing this dress? Months of mocking are already in order, which I figure can stretch to years with the why."
"I didn't have a lab coat, but mom's old dress was in the attic so it had to do." Curtis showed me inside. "I guess time got away from me. There's only a couple of hours left and Valentine's Day will be over." Curits turned and headed toward the basement door. I followed him, understandably curious. We descended the steps and nothing could've prepared me for what Curtis said next. "I'm building a woman."
"Uhhhh..." I started, not sure how to reply to that.
"I know it sounds," the tone of his voice dropped drastically, "mad," then went back to its normal pitch, "bro. But, I hate not having a girlfriend on Valentine's Day."
"Join the club," I muttered.
"Yeah but, you've got all those Idol groupies, bro. You sat at home alone and watched TV because you're a looooooooser."
"And building a girlfriend in your basement is... healthy? Besides, most of the LJ Idol groupies are, how should I say this? Fucking psycho?"
"I was just fucking with you. Are there really LJ Idol groupies?"
"Sad, but true. Actually, I think one of them is stalking me."
"No shit?! That's awesome. What's her name?" Curtis had led me through the basement during this exchange. We were now standing beside the table with the sheet draped over it. There was something under the sheet, running the length of it. Beside the table was a desk with a computer and some other pieces of electronic equipment. Wires ran haphazardly betweem then and under the sheet. I was lost in thought, looking at the surreal display before me. Curtis asked again, "Dude. What's her name?"
"Ummm, Randi."
"It's a dude?"
"No, Randi with an I," I said absent mindedly. "What do you have under there, Curtis? You haven't been grave robbing again, have you? You remember all the trouble you got into last time, right?"
Curtis chuckled, "No, I'm still on probation from that." Curtis, for a time, had tried picking-up girls at funeral parlors. He'd scan the newspaper for rich people who had died then go to the visitation claiming to be an old friend. He was convinced that openly weeping at the side of the casket would make him seem attractively sensitive and vulnerable. He had been to two different visitations that day. At the second one, he accidentally dropped the phone number he got from a girl at the first one into the casket. Later when he couldn't find it, he took it upon himself to retrieve it. "Don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing."
"She was hot," I admitted. "Wasn't she the one who turned you in?"
"Yeah, I had told her a story about how me and her dead uncle had bought matching ties at the mall and that it was hard to see him being buried in it. So when I went back to get the digits, I grabbed his out of the casket while I was there. Thought it'd make a nice touch to the story some day, you know, to wear the 'matching' tie? I wore it to her sorority formal. Who has their ties monogrammed? I thought it was the brand name or something." Curtis picked up the yellow kitchen gloves that were laying on top of the sheet. He snapped them on dramatically.
"If you don't have severed body parts under there Curtis, why the gloves and the, uh, lab coat?"
Curtis looked at me like I was the crazy one. "Dude, there are rules about being a mad scientist. Like, lab coat, rubber gloves... and electricity. I wasn't lucky enough to have a thunderstorm tonight so I took apart the 220 volt socket behind the dryer, spliced one of those heavy duty orange extension cords to it. Then I took the switch out of the breaker box and hard wired the incoming current to that socket.
"That would explain the street lights flickering."
Curtis began laughing, that deep cackle of a mad scientist. "That fucking rules. So, like, is 'Randi with an I' not a babe?"
"Dude, she's like 15."
Curtis looked at me silently, like he was waiting for more. When I didn't say anything he asked, "Yeah, but, is she hot?"
"Curtis, didn't you go to jail for that, too?"
"How the hell was I supposed to know she was only 14. She looked at least 16." Curtis, for a time, had tried picking-up girls at roller-skating rinks. He'd wear his old highschool class ring and skate backwards a lot. Then, during the couples-only songs, he'd stand alone looking sensitive and vulnerable in the blacklight and disco-ball sparkle. I'm not telling the rest of this story and it's a good thing the back seat of his Oldsmobile Cutlass couldn't talk.
"You don't... have a live, willing participant under there do you?" I asked.
"If I had a live, willing participant I wouldn't be building a woman." Curtis grabbed the sheet and ripped it off the table with a flourish. Lying on the table was a collage of images, representing various body parts, pieced together with Scotch tape over the form of a female mannequin. Where the breasts were, Curtis had balanced two large canteloupes and there were wires coming out of them, leading to the hardware on the desk.
I gasped audibly. "Dude, that's... scary, but in an awesome kind of way."
"I know, right? Bro, check it out. I've got Debra Messing's hair taped at the top. You see if you can guess the rest."
I looked over the photos. "Ok, the nose is definitely Elizabeth Montogomery."
"Right on, bro. Could there be any other nose on the perfect woman? I think not."
There was a photo of bikinied breasts over the canteloupes. "Heidi Klum, right?" I asked poiting at them.
"Rock on," Curtis said beaming with pride.
"The knees are Scarlett Johansson, I know them anywhere. Those are aren't her thighs though?"
"Maria Sharapova, dude."
"Holy shit you're brilliant Curtis! And the calves?"
"Jane Russell. She's on the hips, too."
"I'm surprised you didn't put her on the canteloupes. The mouth is... oh shit what's her name? Um... Claire Danes?"
"Yup. I always melt when she does that little frowny-smile thing."
"I notice you have the eyes and cheekbones as a single photo. It looks familiar but I can't place it. Great eyes."
"Imagine a mask over it."
I gazed a little longer. "Dude! Earth Kitt?"
"Meow!" we said in unison.
"You can't see it, but Beyonce's ass is underneath the mannequin."
"Excellent choice. So what's the plan here, Curtis?"
Curtis looked around. "Well, I think everything is ready to go. I was doing a power test when you tapped on the window." He handed me a pair of welder's goggles and began putting on his. "You ready for this, bro?"
I placed the strap over my head and put the dark lenses over my eyes. "Totally," I said and stepped back from the table. Curtis reached for a switch on the desk and flipped it. The hot, white light I had seen from the driveway flashed and filled the basement. A large buzzing sound accompanied it for maybe 10 seconds then there was a loud POP and the light was gone. All the lights and the equipment on the table went out as well. Judging from the darkness of the basement windows, the power was gone from the whole block.
I removed my goggles. The smell of cooking canteloupe was overpowering and small orange flames danced on the table as the pictures curled on the mannequin in the heat. In the light of the fire I walked over to Curtis and patted him on the back of his white wedding dress.
"Well Curtis, tomorrow is another day," I said. "A nice day to..."
Curtis shook his head at me, daring me to finish.
"...STARRRRT AGAAAAAAAAAAAAAIN. YOW!"