Ridicula Read online

  “We apologize,” uttered the manager to George. And then he saw Jade, and said, “You are not allowed in here unless you buy some shoes immediately to cover your bare feet.”

  This guy was a piece of work.

  Jade loved shoes so much that she had boxes and boxes, and most of them had only been worn once or still divulged the tag on them. Normally she would be happy to buy new silvery taupe pumps, but this manager had rubbed her the wrong way.

  And her morals ruled, even when buying shoes.

  “You expect me to buy shoes after you stopped me from entering your lowbrow store? Who do you think you are? At the end of the day, you are just a glorified shoe salesman that can’t even sell shoes.” She then rolled the makeshift US Weekly shoes that she still carried into a ball and threw it at the stunned manager. Then, she stomped out (and with bare feet, stomping was a hard thing to accomplish).

  Maria and the rest of the group stared after her for a while before following. The manager did not move even after the shoe glossy-paper ball bounced off his forehead.

  Maria lay on maize in Ohio reminiscing about all of this. And she continued to muse over the absurdity of the whole situation. After all, everything she recollected thus far had happened before they had left New Jersey. And a lot had happened since then even if it were only a day ago. But her involvement at this juncture in Trenton (although George was still the idiot) was the catalyst for all that happened since, for she was the one to stick out her thumb so that they could get a ride from a wing-nut.

  And he drove yet another SUV.

  At first, the man seemed cordial enough. He was a young man who looked at her and Jade without any menace or lust. He had a trustworthy appearance: clean-cut, glasses, and wore business attire. He said he was on his way to a meeting but had time to bring them all back to New York City before his meeting began. Maria had neglected to ask what type of meeting it was, though, an oversight that would prove a huge mistake.

  Upon settling into the SUV and driving off, the driver said to no one in particular, “Do you guys like movies?” Maria was a little bit perplexed by the question. She hadn’t heard of anyone in the free world who didn’t like some type of movie. Next, he might ask, ‘Do you like music?’ An equally dumb question.

  Of course, George had to answer. “Action movies are the bomb, sometimes literally.”

  That set off the driver. George tended to say exactly the wrong words to these oddballs, even if it sounded innocent enough. “Those movies are all the same,” began the man. “In every movie, the plot and characters always do the same thing. Ever heard of the ‘Race & Chase’?”

  “Must be the cool car chase that is often a race against time or against each other,” George answered. “So, you like those traditional action movies instead of the CGI stuff?”

  “How about the ‘Run & Gun,’ sometimes also referred to as ‘Fun with a Gun’?” the man continued, not bothering to answer George’s question.

  “Oh, that’s easy. That’s when the protagonist or other character is running through or on top of buildings or war zones or something of the like as the antagonists run after them, shooting wildly.”

  “How about the ‘Fire for Hire’?”

  “Hey, that one’s clever. A nice switch to being hired then fired at work.” George answered excitedly, and Maria instinctively rolled her eyes. “But here you must mean the fire that always starts, often because of car crashes or awesome explosions. In many cases, at least one of the characters is hired to exterminate another character, which ends up a fiery mess.”

  “Yeah, you know your action movies,” said the driver. The words sounded as if they were meant as a compliment, but his disgusted tone said otherwise. “You know of the ‘Shot that’s Not’?”

  “Of course,” George answered proudly, missing the sarcasm in the other’s voice. “That’s when someone is about to shoot someone else, but before he can, something else happens, often someone else shooting, which gives the other time to escape.”

  “You are good.” The driver’s disgust was so evident now that even George should have recognized it. “How about ‘Said before Dead’?”

  “Oh, that’s my favorite,” George answered, still oblivious to the manner in which the driver was talking. “That’s when the man talks forever about his ambitions or plans or how much pain he’s going to give the other before killing him. Oftentimes, that gives the protagonist enough time to escape. See every old Batman TV episode ever made.” George paused to giggle. “Then,” he continued, “there’s the other meaning where someone is about to die but must say something, often profound, before he keels over. Am I right?”

  “Got them all. So, you must realize how cliché all these movies are?” The driver gave him a sardonic laugh.

  “Come on now. They’re fun,” George replied, possibly finally catching on to the other’s attitude.

  “You know what really perturbs me about all these action movies?” the driver asked rhetorically as he sped up into traffic. “The way they portray the guns, which seem to be the weapon of choice for the dirty deeds.”

  Maria didn’t like where this conversation was going. Before, the discussion had been somewhat amusing, if a bit sophomoric, but now, she had the feeling that things were taking a bad turn—

  Just like the driver was doing now. He had just exited the Jersey turnpike to Route 80 toward Pennsylvania. Maria didn’t have a great sense of direction, but that couldn’t be right.

  “Guns are for protection. They don’t kill people. Other people do,” the driver continued. Maria had heard this one before. This man might be a gun-toting enthusiast. The thought made a little fear creep up her spine. She looked for any evidence of a gun in the car.

  “You see,” the man said as the car raced down Route 80, “the Second Amendment says that all men have the right to bear arms. And that is damn right! But glorifying killing with them, that ain’t right. I like it when they use other weapons to do the dirty work. Horror movies are better at doing that….”

  This man seemed like he was just getting started, so Maria worked up the courage to interrupt him, especially since she didn’t see any rifle bags in the car. “I don’t think this is the direction back to the city. Where are we going?”

  “Where are we going, you ask?” He reached past George and opened the glove compartment. Could there be a handgun in there? “Look at this?”

  In his hand was a pamphlet. Maria sighed with relief. She noticed Jade do the same. She seemed nervous, too. The guys were still oblivious to the possibility of danger. Just like them.

  Her stress quickly returned when she looked at the pamphlet. It read like an ad for the Army, except that it wasn’t for the military:

  Come see guns, guns, guns, and more! Pistols, rifles, cannons, we got it! Cause the NRA needs you.

  While disturbing to her, those words were not what scared her most. These did:

  Located in Youngstown, OH.

  “Are you taking us here?” Maria asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Damn right, I am. You all got to know that guns aren’t all bad. You Yankees want them all banned when they can protect you.” The man reached into his pocket, so Maria naturally figured that he would pull out a scrunched confederate flag. That’s what people like this did.

  It was small, one of those toy flags, like what might be found on antipatriotic cake. No matter how tiny, though, it was still a Confederate flag nonetheless.

  “I have to go to the bathroom. Pennsylvania is a damn long state. Can you pull over at the next rest stop?” Kenny asked. Had the danger finally dawned on him? Because that was a good idea. They could make their escape then.

  “No stops till Ohio. Just pee in a bottle.”

  “I have to shit,” Kenny said, squirming in his seat. Well, that could be bluntly effective.

  “This is my father’s car. It would serve him right if you crapped in his car.” So, the driver had issues with his father. No surprise there.


  “I have to go, too,” said Jade. “Can’t you let a dainty little lady like me have her privacy?” She sounded Southern. Perhaps Jade thought that would persuade this NRA fanatic.

  “No!” So much for that.

  Everybody went silent, trying to figure out a way to get this guy to stop without causing a horrific accident. Maria thought about what the protagonist in action movies would do in this situation. Perhaps George was thinking the same, for he said, “I just thought of another one. Have you ever heard of the ‘Fist with a Twist’ in action movies?”

  “Can’t say I have,” the driver responded more jovially than before. “Doesn’t sound like anything involving guns.”

  “You’re right,” George said as he twisted the driver’s arm and attempted to punch him in the face. Meanwhile, Kenny grabbed the steering wheel from the backseat.

  In action movies, these events would have led to the protagonist taking over control of the vehicle with the antagonist eventually being thrown out of the car. Unfortunately, in real life, a horrific crash was much more likely. Maria realized this so was relieved when George barely made contact with the driver’s face. With no damage done, the NRA fool could still drive, and he did twist free. Afterward, he knocked Kenny’s hands from the steering wheel and took it over. “What, are you guys crazy? We could have been killed,” the crazy man said ironically. “See, that’s what watching action movies gets you. If any of you try anything else, I’ll just have to tie you all up.” He waved the tiny confederate flag and drove on.

  Hours passed with nothing but the driver’s ranting. “This is the land of the free. Confederate flags should be bought and swung proudly,” he said at one point.

  “Why would you want to carry a symbol of the South that reminds us of war and slavery?” George dared to ask.

  “I’m a self-respected Southerner,” was the driver’s answer, as if that explained his entire rationale.

  At Ohio’s border, Kenny finally couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m going right now.” He reached for the passenger door handle, threatening to jump out.

  “Oh, what the hell. I’ll stop,” said the driver, but he drove on for quite a while before finally exiting the highway. “Let’s take a bathroom break. I could use a soda anyway,” he said as they exited. “You all promise to come to the rally. You’ll like it. You all will.”

  “What else could we do in the middle of nowhere?” Jade asked. That was true enough. That didn’t mean that they couldn’t make a run for it.

  They drove until they found an old gas station. They exited the car in front of a crappy convenience store that seemed to have been run down ten years earlier but somehow remained standing. As Kenny ran to the bathroom, Maria could just imagine how disgusting and filthy the toilets must be. She was tempted to try going in the cornfield behind the store but decided to hold it in instead.

  “The rally is coming in this direction,” a woman yelled running out of the convenience store. “They are bringing it to the people.”

  The driver who had ungraciously brought them to this place raised his tiny Confederate flag into the air where nobody could tell what it was and announced, “We shall rise again!”

  A man next to him examined the tiny flag, squinting so that he could see it better. He did this for many seconds, finally recognizing it. “You’re an idiot. The NRA is for guns, not the Confederacy.”

  “Nevertheless, guns rule!” exclaimed their captor.

  To that, the other man smiled in agreement, pulling out his pistol from his gun holster that only now was visible.

  “I thought we were in Ohio, not the Wild West,” Maria whispered nervously to Jade.

  The driver and the man with the handgun gave them little heed, so Maria sauntered behind the convenience store and ran for the cornfield. Jade followed behind. They did not delay seeing if the kidnapper and the man with the gun had noticed them. They were too busy running for their lives.

  When a bullet was shot into the air in the anticipation of the rally that could be heard around the bend off a windy dirt road, Maria finally looked back to see that Bobarino and George were catching up to her with great haste. She dove into the cornfield and heard the others do the same. There was still no sign of Kenny. I guess not even a gunshot could scare him from finishing his dump. He’s oddly funny like that, but the guy has a way to grow on you anyway. Maria somehow blushed at the idea, even though his bowel movements were at the forefront of her thoughts.

  So here she was hidden in a cornfield somewhere in Ohio. Maria dared not move as night approached. She would rather spend the night in the relative safety of the cornfield than go anywhere near that rally.

  And that is what she did.

  Chapter 12

  The Hat and the Cat

  The pine marten had several names among the animals of the forest, and he was fond of them all. He liked being called Rascally Rascal, because he was doubly mischievous, especially for his species. Martens were generally benign in nature, but he enjoyed causing havoc to those who intruded on his routines or hunts. Another name for him was Nocturnal Nuisance. While not entirely accurate, because he did appear in the day, mostly at dusk or dawn, he was happy to be known as a nuisance since other animals would leave him alone due to his temperament. His favorite name, however, was MOOC—Marten Out Of Control. Of course, those names were perpetuated by the rodents and rabbits of the forest so were not from real credible sources. Nevertheless, his reputation preceded his true nature.

  But the dog hadn’t received word; otherwise, the rather large pooch wouldn’t have interrupted his hunt, forcing MOOC to mock the beast when it got stuck in the tree. Curious about who this dog was and a little perturbed by the loss of his meal, the marten had followed it back to its home and had been keeping tabs on it since. MOOC had a feeling that more games were to be played soon.

  In the meantime, the marten carried on, bullying or flat out eating the small rodents, but today it was a cat that had his attention. Normally he would stay away from cats because they were mean critters, for they would torture their prey before killing them. MOOC was never THAT mean. However, this cat had come from the canine’s home, so the marten wanted to mess with it.

  “Wife, where’s my hat?” the old man said, following the cat out.

  “It’s Lana, Hubby,” a creaky but strong woman’s voice called. “And it’s right where it always is—on the hook next to the door.”

  “Don’t you think I would have seen it if it was there?”

  “Try the next hook over.”

  “Oh, I got it,” said the man who probably couldn’t see a rabbit if it jumped right in front of him.

  “You left the door open, Harry, and now the cat is out again,” the woman announced. She was more observant than most humans but not even close to the marten’s level, for he had already seen the cat climb up the shed. Perhaps it was time to give it a little scare.

  Rascally Rascal crept toward the shed, trying not to let the cat see him. Cats were keen when they were awake, so this movement was a careful process. As he approached, he wondered where the dog was. He did not want that ignoramus clod messing up his fun. Although the dog had no love for the kitty, the marten still thought the Rottweiler would aid the cat against a common foe, which of course would add to the fun.

  Meanwhile, the cat settled on the roof of the shed, attempting to bask in the early morning sun. All cats loved to sleep, and this one liked to do it in the sun, as the marten had seen plenty of Cymric cats do. Since it was so inclined to sleep at the moment, sneaking up to it would be easier. He crept closer.

  “Where are you going?” the old woman asked.

  “Have to get something from the shed,” the old man replied, oblivious to most everything that was going on.

  At the base of the shed, Rascally Rascal began to climb right under the cat’s nose. Boy, would it be in for a surprise!

  He reached the roof, only inches from where the cat soundly slept. He jumped on the roof tile, far enoug
h out of the way to avoid the cat’s claws but close enough to jolt it awake. The cat jumped up and screeched. Seeing MOOC, it hissed menacingly, but the marten only gave his rascally grin. Scared, the cat jumped from the roof of the shed—

  And onto the old man’s hat!

  Now, a cat on a hat was simply hilarious to the marten, especially since the old man didn’t realize that anything had happened until the cat swiped at the hat with its claws, unintentionally scratching the man’s bald head. The elder yelped like a mouse being toyed with by a cat. As fitting an end as that could be, the hilarity was not finished, for the cat slid off the bald man’s head with the hat still intact on the cat’s claws. Both cat and hat flew like a kite with no wind, so fast they skidded to the ground with the cat’s claws tearing the hat to bits. So there went the skittish cat with the torn hat.

  “What have you done with my hat, you stupid cat? That’s my favorite hat.” The man still smarted from the scratch on his head but became angrier when he saw that his hat more resembled a dead plant than something to be worn on his head. He lurched angrily around like a two-legged dog without a bone or a clue.

  In that instant, the large dumb dog scrambled out of the house like a moving log, barking nonstop. He was looking straight up at MOOC.

  “What is it, Freckles? That’s not like you barking like that.”

  That dog’s name is Freckles! How ridiculous! Somehow, the marten would eventually let him know just how ludicrous that name was for that type of dog.

  The dog that had no freckles continued to bark and stare in the marten’s direction. Well, even a dimwitted human could eventually figure out where the dog was looking. Thus, while this whole affair had been fun, the marten knew when it was time to leave. He gave the dog his trademark rascally grin and disappeared behind the shed and then back into the woods, where he could wait until night when the mischievous Nocturnal Nuisance would return.

  Freckles lost sight of the marten and was about to start scenting and chasing when Harrison called to him. “Whoa, boy, stop! We don’t want you going off on a wild goose chase just now. We have some important work to do today.”