Curing the Uncommon Man-Cold (16 page)

“Now, settle down and tell me what happened in your dream.”

“No dream! Panther… here! Clawed my face!”

With exaggerated movements Amanda looked around the cluttered room. “Don’t see any wildlife now. Maybe the light scared it off.”

“I’m serious, Amanda!” Finally words with more than two syllables. “Panther on my chest again!”

“What size panther this time?”

“Same as last one. At least fifty pounds. Hard to say. He was breathing on me again, and then he started whacking my face with his claws.”

“I don’t see any bloody rips in your flesh.” She yawned largely.

Jason felt for lesions. “Well, maybe not claws. It patted my face with its
paws
.”

“So it’s a friendly panther.” It was difficult not to smile. “In dreams, animals can represent danger or friendship. This little panther wants to be your buddy.”

“No! It wasn’t a dream and he doesn’t want to be friends. He tried to claw my eyes out!”

“Well, skip ahead to that part. I need to get back to sleep.”

“On my chest, breathing into my nostrils, then he patted my face. I wanted to look, but I was too scared, so I kept my eyes shut.” Jason shuddered. “Then he reached with his paws and raised up my eyelids! It was horrible!”

“Well, both eyes seem present and in working order. Maybe the dream panther didn’t want to keep your eyeballs. Perhaps he was just counting them.”

“Why would a panther count my eyeballs unless he planned to eat them?” He shuddered again and gripped his shins even tighter. “And it wasn’t a dream!”

Amanda sighed and yawned at the same time. Her airway got confused and she nearly coughed. “Well, I’ve never heard of panthers — whatever their size — pulling up human eyelids for optical exams. Maybe that’s his way of waking you up.”

“He nearly scared me into a shock-seizure.”

“What exactly is that?”

“I don’t know all the medical stuff, but it’s caused by being scared to death by panthers.” He made it sound almost authoritative.

“Whatever. I’m going back to bed.”

“Leave the light on!”

“Okay, but I’m closing your door so the light doesn’t bother me.” Amanda sighed and closed the guestroom door slowly. From the corner of her eye, she saw Diabla rubbing against the sofa in the living space. It looked like she was ready to go outside again. Amanda tiptoed down the hallway and stroked the long black fur for a moment. The huge feline hunched her back with every stroke. “Good job, Diabla, my little guest panther. Mission accomplished. You can go home now.” She opened the front door quietly and watched the miniature black predator slowly melt into the darkness.

Amanda closed and locked the door, yawned again, and used the bathroom before she went back to bed.

* * * *

Amanda’s provision of daily breakfast was becoming an exercise in imagination. With Christine’s able assistance, Amanda had produced something differently awful for the past five mornings. So far, her favorites were the scrambled tofu on Day Four and yesterday’s hemp granola. Today she had an added treat.

Jason dragged himself into the kitchen area and slumped into a chair at the table. He hit the seat just about the same time his sagging pajama bottoms slid halfway down his gluteus maximus. The chair was cool, so he squirmed enough to cover his exposed flesh with the faded, striped flannel.

“Were you able to get back to sleep after that panther dream?”

“Not a wink. I kept imagining him pulling up my eyelids with his paw-fingers.” Jason shuddered again. “And it wasn’t a dream. I found more black panther hair on my shirt.”

“Like I told you, vivid dreaming. It can seem so real that you actually find real-world evidence of the situations you dreamed about.”

“Not a dream. He wanted to suck out my eyeballs.”

Amanda changed the subject. “Christine helped me locate something to go with your cereal besides that unsweetened prune juice you’ve been griping about.”

“I bet it didn’t come from a cow.”

“Correct.” Amanda pointed to the quart container. “It’s dairy-free and gluten-free.”

“What does that leave?” He leaned closer but refused to touch it. “Is it even liquid?”

“Well, it’s sort of a pale cousin to milk.”

Jason frowned. “Probably a third cousin, twice removed. What’s this particular cousin made of?”

“Some sort of artificial soy protein base.”

“Artificial? Even the natural soy crud tastes like horse pee. I can’t imagine what the fake soy tastes like.”

“Well, you’re supposed to sprinkle this wheat germ on top.” She held up a small bottle. “It cuts the bitterness of the artificial soy.”

The look on his face revealed utter defeat. How had Jason lasted six days with hardly any palatable food? How stubborn does one have to be to remain in inhospitable circumstances even though he’s perfectly healthy, except for low blood sugar from restricted intake of a remarkably odd diet? Why was he holding on to the illusion of illness when he could just walk out and go home?

Amanda didn’t know. And today she didn’t have time to dwell on it. “Well, I’ll put the milk-cousin in the fridge if you want it. If not, there’s still some prune juice left. I’m in a rush this morning.”

“You’re going to work
again
?” He looked like he might cry. “But it’s Sunday! Doesn’t King Louie realize he’s running you down to a nub?”

“Like I told you yesterday, I’m way behind. The applications have to be duly considered and I’m the one who does that part. Besides, if I’m down to a nub, it has other contributing factors besides King Louie.”

Clearly, Jason was oblivious to her point. “Any idea what time you’ll be home? They have a great breakfast buffet at Shuney’s.”

“You can’t eat all that greasy stuff. You’re a sick man. We’re trying to build up your immunities and clean out your system, not clog it up further.”

He looked like his faithful dog had just died.

“Well, anyway, I can’t stay and chat while you eat, but I also bought you a new cereal to go with that soy milk-cousin stuff, since the other breakfast meals have gotten a firm thumbs-down.”

“Finally. Hope it’s Sugar Crisp… or Cap’n Crunch. Something tasty.”

“Here’s the box. You decide. Bye.”

As she exited the door, she heard him wail, “Flax? This stuff is for barn animals!”

Jason may have been partly correct, but it was also a legitimate healthy cereal for adventurous humans: organic flax plus granola.

Amanda went to the side of her duplex and turned off the breaker for the air conditioner. She had just enough time to get an egg and cheese biscuit — plus coffee — from Hardee’s on her way to work.

* * * *

Amanda saw a few other employees in the lobby of her office building, but she had most of her own floor to herself. She recognized one accountant on the far end, but he belonged to a different county department which had a few offices in that corner. She didn’t realize that individual ever worked on Sundays. Maybe he was a spy for King Louie.

In her own office, Amanda kicked off her sneakers and read the blog for Day Six.

.

Curing the Uncommon Man-Cold

Day Six

This was a riot. They weren’t maids – one works in a local doctor’s office – and they weren’t Hispanic. Actually, it was two of my old sorority sisters who both took two semesters of college Spanish. They’ve each remembered only enough of the lingo to get lost in Juarez once and, on a different occasion, to nearly get arrested in South Miami.

With perfect timing, they arrived as
Marty
was about to consume a contraband candy bar. And they sprayed it! No, not real cleanser… just water with blue food coloring. [I insisted on that because I predicted there was a serious chance he’d try to eat something while they were present. Ha.]

Marty
seems to be addicted to the toothpaste with three colorful stripes. He might need a special clinic for detox after he leaves
Missy’s
apartment.

I wanted to nip this in the bud… cold turkey. I suggested we switch his toothpaste to that awful stuff they used to sell for sensitive teeth back in the 1960s. It tastes like psoriasis cream, I’m told. However,
Missy
insists we have to let
Marty
hang onto something of comfort. Good grief.

We’ve noticed some wagering threads which link to our blog. I can’t offer any tips.
Marty
has already defied all the odds I could have imagined. He’s one desperate individual. But not desperate enough to walk out the door to freedom.

Almira Gulch

.

Amanda checked the comments section of their primary blog. Betting was high in favor of
Marty’s
imminent departure but a small percentage predicted he’d outlast their efforts to oust him.

She checked the tallies on the parallel blogs. Kick-Marty was at 54, Free-Marty was at 32, and Lighten-Missy was at 10. Amanda also spotted a new blog with a new running serial:
Burn the Witch
. That tally was already at five.

Amanda went to the staff lounge to brew some coffee.

She made good progress until 11:00 a.m., when her cell phone rang.

Annoying! Amanda was in the middle of a really boring portion of the grant application and that interruption would force her to read it again. She opened her phone with an aggravated flip. Christine. “Hey.” Amanda squeezed in this next part before her older friend could speak. “Before I forget, have you seen the new shadow blog called Burn-Witch?”

“No. Which witch?”

“Well, obviously you, Brunhilda. I told you Jason has been calling you a witch.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that. I think it began when I yanked a few of his chest hairs.” She chuckled.

“Possibly before. Anyway, when I looked at our blog earlier today, I checked the tallies on the three shadow blogs we’ve seen so far.”

“Right. I also checked them not long ago.”

“Well, the new one I just saw today is
Burn the Witch — 5
.”

Christine was briefly silent. “Okay, I understand that Jason says I’m a witch, but how did the bloggers figure out what Jason thinks?”

“Didn’t you mention that in one of your early posts?”

“Not sure.” Christine paused and likely tried to remember. “Anyhow, that’s not why I called. I want to meet you at your apartment. Today… noon.” She had not visited Jason alone again. “Grab something to eat before you get there. This is another unconventional remedy for Jason, and you might not have an appetite afterwards.”

“You promised you wouldn’t poison him…”

“No, not poison. The key is for him to think it
could be
poison.” Christine started to hang up but then apparently remembered something. “Oh, I think I know how the bloggers figured out the witch reference.”

“How?”

“From the blog name I’m using. You know, the
Wizard of Oz
character I told you about. Since Almira Gulch’s alter ego in the movie is the Wicked Witch, the blogger must have picked up on that image.”

“Maybe.” Amanda wasn’t convinced. “But I thought I saw it in your blog.”

“Whatever. See you at noon.”

“Okay. But remind me to tell you about the cat’s panther performance this morning at four-something. Even better than we imagined. Diabla deserves an Academy Award.” Amanda smiled into her phone. She realized Jason had been whipped.

“Yeah, I’d like to hear that. Noon… your place. Later.”

* * * *

When Amanda drove up about an hour later, Christine was waiting outside.

“What’s so important that I had to drop what I’m doing at work, on what should be my day off?”

“I shouldn’t say. It’ll be more effective if you don’t know.” Christine nodded once. “Just play along.”

“That’s about all I’ve been doing for the past six days.” Amanda groaned loudly. “Okay.” She remembered it was August. “Hold on a second. Let me turn the A/C back on for the next hour.” She went to the compressor and flipped up the lever on the breaker box.

They entered together and found Jason on the couch staring at TV snow. This time he had the remote control upside down. It was not evident why he thought that might make a difference.

Since the air conditioning had been off all morning, the windows were wide open and the ceiling fans were at highest speed. Jason also had the HVAC blower motor running, which allowed additional warm air to exit the ceiling vents. He did not appear to notice the slight change in temperature of the air from above, but he turned and waved when they closed the door.

In the distance they could hear Mrs. Yodel in the midst of her unceasing practice.

“Does she do any actual songs? Or just practice Swiss-Austrian scales?” Christine wrinkled her nose.

“Not sure. But I think that might be a song. She probably even wrote it.” Jason nodded like a music teacher keeping time with the composition. “As best I can calculate, it goes on like that for about forty-five minutes. Then there’s about a ten-minute chorus. Then she returns to the verse.”

“You’re kidding.” Amanda scoffed.

“Why on earth would I make up something like that? The really, truly stupid things of this world are too bizarre to make up.” Jason looked both of them over and then addressed his girlfriend. “So, what’s up? You off work finally?”

“No, this is kind of a lunch break and then I’ve got to go back and read more grants.” Amanda turned toward her inventive friend.

“It’s time for your holistic therapy session and Amanda didn’t want me here alone with you. So we have a chaperone.” Christine’s smile was thin. “She apparently thinks I’m after your bones.”

“Maybe so, if you plan to grind them up for a magic potion.”

“You’re not still holding a grudge about that poultice, are you?”

He lightly touched his right pectoral area. “I’ll tell you in a few months when the hair grows back.” He pointed toward the small bag Christine was carrying. “What’s in there?”