15. free samples
She stood at the kitchen window, searching for a reason not to
participate in the exercise program being broadcast on her monitor at
the moment, and saw that the flag on the mailbox had been lowered.
The mail had been delivered. She snorted out the smoke from her
cigarette, burning her nostrils, and began coughing. She ran water
over the cherry, dropped the butt into the sink and ground it up in
the disposal unit, while gasping for air in between coughs and taking
sips of ice tea to cool her throat.
She removed a clean tablespoon and a large white soup bowl with
decorative flower rim from the dishwasher, filled it with puffed
chocolate breakfast cereal and added milk. She stuffed her mouth full
with a couple of tablespoons of still crispy Coco Balls and while
chewing went into the pantry, slipped her feet into a pair of furry
house slippers and pressed the button for the automatic garage door
opener. She left the pantry and walked through the garage, rubbing up
against her Hummer on the way. Blinding sunlight reflected off the
concrete driveway as she went to fetch the mail.
Dee had been sending away for free samples for years. The mailbox
bombarded her with a daily supply along with the junk mail. What
personal mail she received would often be overlooked in the scads
of advertising pamphlets. Once, while searching through old magazines
in the garage for a recipe, she had discovered a postcard from her
father, who had died years before. It was sandwiched between a Cover
Chick cosmetic brochure and a Seas Candy holiday catalogue. It was as if
his voice was speaking to her from the grave to tell her of the great
time he was having at the Lake, winning at blackjack and gaining
weight at the buffet table.
In today’s mail, she received a package of pine-scented kitty box
liners, samples of Cherry, a new brand of feminine protection shaped
like its namesake, and a package of address labels with a request for
donations to the B’nai Hari faith. She had received so many labels
that she was using up to four per envelope. Her valley trash
background prevented her from simply throwing something away.
She gathered up all the mail, closed the mailbox and turned towards
the house. A triangular bug crawling up the garage wall caught her
eye. She watched it for a moment, amazed at the strangeness of the
insect, a creature that she had never seen before, not even on TV.
The morning sun reflected on its iridescent back, revealing a mosaic
pattern of red, green and black dots. It was the pearl engulfed in
the slimy guts of an oyster, beautiful yet hideous.
Dee knocked the bug off the wall onto the pavement with an
advertising pamphlet from Ronco Drugs, lifted up one of her furry
slippers and stepped on it. Hearing it crunch under her fluffy rubber-
soled house shoe, she felt relief that it was dead and kicked the
squashed remains onto the grass. The strange insect left a creamy
orange stain on the white concrete, which she would have to return to
later in the day and hose away.
She entered the house, kicked off her slippers in the pantry, and
tossed the mail onto the breakfast nook. She picked up a large
plastic cup half-full of ice tea and went over the keyboard. After
splitting the monitor, she collected her email and watched good-
looking californians stretching and bending to a rhythmic beat.
Howdy Debby,
Yes. I am tall, about six feet nine tall, to be exact. I got a dixie
tattoo on my back but you can’t see it because of the hair. Serena is
also my favorite singer.
I’ve had a mustache ever since I could grow one. I live on a
livestock farm near Chico, and I drive a Hummer with lots of chrome.
I was in the Army for sixteen years. I am a Christian. Did a stupid
thing once when I was young and I have a daughter. Her name is
Crystal. I don’t see her too much, she lives in Sacramento.
My family is originally from Austin. Life was different out there.
The people here have some of the craziest ideas. I am still asking
myself why my parents decided to come to live in this state. I sometimes wonder why I am still here.
I don’t mind the extra ten pounds. I like my sub.cow to be well fed
and I plan to keep her that way.
You know farm life, there is always something to do. It’s never
boring out here. I am a chicken farmer, so the smell around here is
pretty pungent but you get used to it. I also tend to a couple of
cows and some sheep. So I am never lonely. I’ve always liked animals.
There wasn’t a lot of children around on the farm when I was growing
up so they became my friends. If you so choose, you could come up
here tomorrow and start a new life.
I have the photo you sent me hanging above my bed. In return, I’m
sending you a photo of me when I got kicked in the face by an ewe. I
lost two teeth. Since then I’ve had them replaced but I thought you
might like to have it. Look at the house in the back. I built that
myself.
In God we trust
Cal Tex
p.s: I like to gamble and love menudo.
Dee scrolled slowly down the email in order not to be shocked by a
bludgeoned face. The large farmhouse in the back of the photo caught
her eye. She felt pity for his injury but saw beyond the bruised and
puffy cheek to an inner beauty in his brown glossy eyes.
She was weeping even before she had finished reading. She stood up
and ran about the house, hands waving, yelping, “Oh my god, oh my god!”
The answer to her moments of prayer may have come. Finally someone
was paying attention to her after so many years of neglect. Her mind
went whirling and she dribbled Coco Balls on the breakfast nook while
eating spoonfuls in between house sprints. The embers deep down
inside her, embers that had been dormant for what seemed like ages,
started to stir. This could be her man.
“Let’s move on to the advanced level. Are you ready out there?” the
exerciser announced while jogging in place.
Dee bounced over to the keyboard, maximized the image on the screen
and turned up the volume full blast. The pulsating aerobic beat moved
her soul and she moved the coffee table out of the way and started to
jump and twist about in time with the instructor.
“Touch those toes. Reach and reach. Stand up. Reach and reach. Do it
again. One, two, three, four.”
Dee kept up with the frantic beat, even managing to touch her toes on
occasion. Soon the good-looking californians were all over the place
and Dee was right there with them, jumping sideways, swinging arms,
heads, legs and entire bodies, back to front. Dee began wheezing but
kept up the momentum until she collapsed out of breath and bathed in
sweat onto her Happy Your Home sofa, and passed out.
With the garage-door closing behind him automatically, Martin entered
the house to hear the sofa television on at full volume and telephone
ringing. He was returning home after his accident at the Triple A and
subsequent release from the hospital to tell Dee of his unexpected
good fortune. He had just had a bout with Jack at the Single Duck to
kill the pain of the stitches now that the Novocain was wearing off.
But his wild-eyed joyful mood vanished when he saw Dee lying where
she had fallen. Martin was seized with panic and began to gasp for air.
While wheezing and pounding his chest, trying to clear the phlegm
lodged in his lungs, he made his way towards the ringing and saw the
phone on the sofa. Choking and red in the face, he tripped over the
displaced coffee table as he reached for the phone. As he went down
on Dee, the sofa tipped over.
Bianca, who was ringing up to ask her mom for a sweet and sour
frittata recipe for a luncheon she was catering at the Hurry Uppers
Bible Club, heard the crash and a pay TV commercial blaring.
Recognizing sounds of distress amidst the white noise, she called the
paramedics on her mobile.
When the ambulance attendants arrived at the Griess residence, they
were forced to break through the triple locked front door by chopping
it from its frame. The television was so loud that instead of turning
it off or unplugging it, an axe yielding paramedic swung at the
talking head and hit the speakers instead. Dee sat up startled and
clutching her left breast.
The medics, confused at first by the sight of the two inert
specimens, were equally startled by Dee’s abrupt resurrection in the
sudden silence. They considered murder, then suicide, then rape, or
perhaps all three.
Overcome with fear, Dee let out a primal cry and glanced in shock
>from Martin’s beaten face and shaved head to the paramedics wielding
their axes.
Some neighbors who had collected and were trying to peer into the
front windows, heard the honks of an automobile approaching. Sensing
oncoming danger, the crowd parted and Bianca drove up onto the front
lawn. As she rapidly exited the pink Cadillac, a tuft of her hair
caught on the doorframe. Her head jerked back unexpectedly as she
ripped her way free. Noting this with merely a yelp and a pat on her
head, she darted into the house.
The paramedics had the Griesses lying on stretchers attached to his
and her oxygen masks. Dee was watery-eyed, her mascara bleeding onto
her puffy face. Martin was in worse shape, slipping in and out of
consciousness.
Just before they were wheeled out to the waiting ambulance Martin
regained consciousness and said, “This is the Magic Forest,” and he
looked over to the prone Dee, “And she’s the Queen Box.”
Bianca burst into tears.
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