Read Crazy Little Thing Online

Authors: Layce Gardner,Saxon Bennett

Crazy Little Thing

Table of Contents

Crazy Little Thing

 

 

Saxon Bennett &
Layce Gardner

This
is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events
or locales is entirely coincidental.

 

Published by Square Pegs Ink

 

Text Copyright © 2014 Saxon Bennett & Layce
Gardner

 

All Rights Reserved.  This book, or parts thereof,
may not be reproduced in any form without the authors’ permission.

 

Editor: Kate Michael Gibson

Katemichaelgibson.com
 

 

DEDICATION

 

 

To our readers, without you there would be no
us

Acknowledgements

 

Much love and thanks to Kate Michael Gibson, Emma Gardner,
Judy Baker, Melanie Polito, Jaynes Pehney, Charlotte Demesko, Karen Kormelink,
Liz Mc Mullen, and all the other women who make writing fun!

Ollie Speaks

 

Ollie
stared directly into the lens of the video camera and asked, “Ready? Camera’s
on?”

The
camera moved up and down in a “yes” movement.

Ollie
ran her fingers through her short blonde hair and took a deep breath. She laced
her fingers together, bent them backwards and cracked her knuckles.

“Okay…
My name’s Ollie Hiland. I live in Houston. That’s in Texas. You might say
Houston is an acquired taste. Actually, it tastes like smog. It smells like car
exhaust. It looks dingy and gray. But to the people that were born and bred
here, it’s the best place on earth. People say that California is where you
should be. You know, to surf and stuff. But if you ask me, we have way better
waves… I’m supposed to be telling you what this movie is all about…
excuse me:
film
. The director told me to call
it a film not a movie. That sounds pretentious, but whatever. Here’s what’s
happening… I’m getting divorced. My wife called me up last week and said she
wants a divorce. She kicked me out of the house almost a year ago. So her
wanting a divorce wasn’t a big surprise or anything. That’s the thing, you
know, that sucks. Gay people fought so long and so hard for the right to get married
and now we’re getting divorced just like everybody else. My wife wants to marry
another woman. So, what can I do? She loves somebody else.”

Ollie
stared at a place off-camera.  “Story of my life,” she whispered.

Divorce 101

 

“If
you ask me, there should be some sort of class you have to pass before you can
get married,” Ollie said. She turned the wheel and guided her van around a
corner. The bright orange Volkswagon van was Ollie’s pride and joy. She had
never owned another car and at her age that was saying something. The van not
only got her to where she was going, but had served double-duty as her home on
more than one occasion. It had a table, a sink, a mini-fridge, a bed and a
pop-top. It was a complete house on wheels. Ollie knew that as long as she had
her van, she had a place to call home.

“What,
like a Marriage 101 course?” G-Ray asked.

“More
like Divorce 101,” Ollie said.

“Wait,”
G-Ray said. “This is good stuff.  I need to capture this on film.” G-Ray was
Ollie’s best friend since the first grade when Ollie beat him up for giving his
cookie to Karen Johnson. Ollie had a crush on Karen Johnson because she was the
fastest reader in the whole class.

G-Ray
was tall, gangly, sported dreadlocks and looked like your typical anti-society
surfer bum. His dreadlocks were natural, not done in a beauty shop. He hadn’t
brushed his hair since sixth grade when he lost a bet with Ollie about whether
Karen Johnson would kiss him. She didn’t. He lost. That was the beginning of
his locks.

G-Ray
wasn’t exactly stupid - not in a Forrest Gump way - but he did look the
opposite of intelligent. In fact, he was often mistaken for homeless. One time
G-Ray had stood outside a coffee shop waiting on Ollie and a man dropped a
quarter in his mocha cappuccino. He wasn’t too proud to suck the foam off the
quarter and put it in his pocket.

G-Ray
pointed his camera at Ollie. Once the red light came on, he urged, “Okay,
Ollie, we’re rolling. Keep talking.”

“What
do you want me to say?”

“Be
organic, man. Like, say whatever pops into your head.”

“Okay,”
Ollie said. There was a long pause. Silence and more silence. Ollie laughed.
“My head is empty.”

“I’ll
kick-start you with some questions. Cool?”

“Cool,”
Ollie agreed.

“Is
Ollie your real name?”

“No
way I’m going to divulge my real name on film.” She peered at the camera and
explained, “I got the name Ollie because when I was little, like four or five,
I was the first kid in our neighborhood that could do an Ollie on my
skateboard.” She smiled at G-Ray and the camera. “That’s my story and I’m
sticking to it.”

G-Ray
made a rolling motion with his hand indicating he wanted her to continue
talking. She rambled on, “Um… I like to surf. But I grew up and had to have a
job that made some cash so… I work at a surf shop on the beach. I do artwork on
the side. Airbrushing surfboards and skateboards. I also paint the shells of
hermit crabs and sell those.”

G-Ray
rolled his hand again.

“Okay,
talking, talking… Um, Janis Joplin is from Houston. Just some F.Y.I.” Ollie
looked over at G-Ray. “I was once called the Janis Joplin of the waves.”

“Who
said that?” G-Ray asked.

“My
dad.”

“So,
here
you are sitting behind the wheel of your
most excellent van. Where are you headed?” G-Ray asked.

“Well…
we are on our way to pick up my wife, Claire. We got married last year in
Iowa.”

“Why
Iowa?”

“You
know why,” Ollie said.

G-Ray
lowered the camera and whispered, “Yeah, Ollie, I know why. But the audience
doesn’t. This is called exposition. So if I ask you questions that means I’m
asking on behalf of the viewing audience. Like, it’s not me talking, okay? I’m
playing the part of the unseen narrator, man. I’m like the fourth wall
personified.”

“Aliens
fried your brain, G-Ray. I know you said they went up the other end, but they
got your brains too, my friend,” Ollie teased.

“I
am choosing to ignore that unjust remark. Tell the audience why you went to
Iowa to get married.”

“What?”

“Just
answer the bleep question,” G-Ray said.

“Did
you just say bleep?”

“Yeah.”
He explained, “I’m going to bleep out any cussing or swearing, you know, so
this can maybe get a PG rating. We’ll get into bigger theatres that way.”

“You
can bleep it later, can’t you? You don’t have to actually say the word bleep,
do you?”

“No,
but it serves as a bookmark, you know. Every time I hear bleep, I’ll put in a
bleep noise.”

“That’s
the stupidest bleeping thing I ever bleep heard,” Ollie said.

They
laughed. G-Ray zoomed the camera in closer on Ollie. “So, spill. You got
married to Claire…”

“Yeah,
we had to leave our home state of Texas and drive clear to Iowa because that’s
where it was legal for same sex couples to get married. Then we came back home
to Houston and set up house. But Texas won’t let us get divorced because in
their eyes we aren’t really married in the first place. So we have to drive all
the way back to Iowa to get divorced.”

“Wow,”
G-Ray said. “Bummer.”

“And
not only that, but when I contacted the judge he said we have to establish
residency in Iowa to get divorced. We have to live there together for three
months. And only then can we get divorced.”

“Double
bummer. But you could just stay married, right?”

“Not
really. Because Claire, my wife, wants to marry somebody else. So we’re off to
the land of
Hawkeyes
. We’re driving up there
together to save on expenses. Actually, she’s paying for the whole shebang and
I’m along for the ride.”

“And
I’m capturing the world’s first lesbian divorce on film,” G-Ray said. “This
documentary is going to be my
Carrie.


Carrie?”

G-Ray
said, “Yeah, Dood, like Stephen King.
Carrie
was his first book and
jumpstarted his whole illustrious career.”

“Well,
I hope this film has a different ending.”

“What
is a Hawkeye anyway?” G-Ray said, changing the subject.

Ollie
shrugged. “I think it’s some kind of fauna that’s native to the area.”

“I’m
off the grid, man, or I’d goggle it.”

“It’s
pronounced Google, G-Ray, and you’ve never been on the grid so how could you
possibly go off it?”

“I’m
old school, so sue me,” he said.

Ollie
looked in the rear view mirror. “So how’s Sleeping Beauty doing back there?”
Ollie was referring to Esmerelda. She went by the nickname EZ. EZ had long
shaggy hair with bangs that hung low over her eyes. Her skin was ghostly pale
from lack of sunlight. EZ was a narcoleptic who fell asleep at the drop of a
hat. In fact, she had fallen asleep at a Bananarama concert in the late 1980s
and had rarely been awake since then. When she did wake up she always seemed
surprised to learn that life had gone on and it was no longer 1987. Which
explained why she was wearing parachute pants, moon boots and a Pointer Sisters
T-shirt with the neck cut out, Flashdance style.

G-Ray
looked over his shoulder at the lump on the bed in the back of the van. “Hey,
EZ! Wake up!”

EZ
suddenly sat straight up, her eyes popped open, and she blurted, “Relax, don’t
do it! When you want to, go do it!” Then she fell back over and continued
snoring.

Ollie
and G-Ray shouted at the same time: “Frankie Goes to Hollywood!”

“Jinx,
you owe me a coke,” Ollie said.

“I’m
still up by two points,” G-Ray said.

“Not
for long,” Ollie said, “my luck is changing. I can feel it.”

G-Ray
aimed the camera at EZ. “She’s right back to sleep. I don’t think I’ll ever get
used to how she can do that.”

“She
told me once it was a defense mechanism. Too much stress and she conks out.
Some people drink, some smoke, some take Valium; she falls asleep. Could be
worse, I guess,” Ollie said.

“It’s
sad, though, man,” G-Ray said. “She’s missed like three whole decades.” He
turned off the camera.

Oscar
the Weenie dog jumped up in Ollie’s lap. “Hey, there Oscar. How ya hanging?”

Oscar
was the epitome of dogs. He was one of those dogs who enjoyed being a dog. He
savored every aspect of dogdom. Every smell was to be cherished, every lick was
delectable and each and every moment was to be thoroughly humped until it was
humped out. He may have been a little Weenie dog, but he had the attitude of a
Bull Mastiff.

Not
long after Claire had thrown Ollie out of the house, Ollie had purchased Oscar.
He was being sold out of the back of a station wagon in the Walmart parking
lot. Ollie lost her wife, but gained a dog. And there were some days she
thought she got the better bargain.

Oscar
panted happily and pressed his face against the window. Ollie scratched him
behind the ears. “I hope Claire doesn’t forget to pack her allergy pills,”
Ollie said. “Or this is going to be one long trip.”

 

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