The Pickled Apocalypse of Pancake Island (7 page)

"You are free to take me anywhere," I told the balloon.

It began to move through the sky.

*

We floated for a while, then the balloon popped and the air swooshed out. I was trapped inside it, falling through the sky at a screamless velocity, naked and confused.

HAPPY GRIEVANCES

"Hold still, you've gone and hung yourself," said a voice. It was Fanny Fod.

"Where am I?" I called.

"I shot your balloon out of the sky. You were supposed to land on the rooftop, but you veered at the last minute and nearly crashed to your doom. The balloon formed a hand and reached out and grabbed hold of a spire. The hand is holding steady, but I'm afraid it won't stay that way forever. Be very still and don't say a word. I'll have you out of there in no time."

I obeyed, motionless and quiet. In my head, I imagined my brains splattering on the walkway of Fanny Fod's castle. I imagined her scooping my ruined body into her arms and eating me.

*

Fanny's brow furrowed. "You were wearing a suit earlier," she said.

"Yes, I was."

"Is it gone now because you had a special encounter with a pancake?"

"No," I said. "I have had no special encounters."

"Be honest."

"I am."

"Okay," she said.

"Okay," I said.

It was getting awkward again.

"I apologize for earlier," she said. "For kicking you out. I had reasons to act the way I did, but those reasons don't concern you. Anyway, I was planning to make dinner. Are you hungry?"
"I would like to eat food," I said.

"Let's go inside and eat food," she said.

So we went inside and ate food.

SLEEP TOGETHER

We were sitting at the potato table, full from a pancake dinner. Fanny Fod was lactating beer into a glass. When the glass was full, she lactated into another glass. She added spices and a lot of other things I did not recognize.

"What are we drinking?" I said, taking up the glass she'd passed me. Even though I already knew this was beer, it was best to play dumb.

"Maple beer," she said, raising her glass to her mouth.

"It smells delicious." I refrained from mentioning how excited I was to consume her body fluids. For the moment, I wanted to avoid saying anything awkward. I slurped some beer. It was dark, heavy, sweet.

"Yum," I said.

We focused on our beers for a little while.

"So what's your middle initial stand for?" I asked.

"Winter," she said. "Would you like to hear the story why?"

I said that I would.

"It starts with my mother, Fall M. Fod. Fall was a famous pancakeologist."

The W. in Fanny's name stood for "Winter," the season she was born, and the M. in Fall's name stood for "Monogamy." All pancakes chose their own middle name. Fall chose hers because of a story about a custom that existed in the potato days: monogamy. I knew monogamy caused a lot of pain and misery on Pickled Planet. The difference between pickles and potatoes was that potatoes had learned how to identify and throw out what made them sad, a skill which led them down a supremely happy evolutionary road. Fall embraced monogamy as a lifestyle choice.

As a sign that she followed in the monogamous footsteps of her Mother, and also as a way of letting her individuality show, Fanny chose "Winter" as her middle name. She was the only monogamous pancake and monogamy struck other pancakes as funny.

"That's a good story," I said. I did not feel much like sharing the story behind my middle name. I did not feel much like sharing any stories.

"Can I have another beer?" I said.

"Of course."

She took my glass and milked herself until foam spilled over the lip of the glass. She added no spices this time.

She did not drink another beer.

After I drank the beer, I lowered my head, suddenly tired and wanting to laugh at myself. I'd never eaten dinner naked before. I lifted my head and smiled at her. I twiddled my fingers, looked up at Fanny Fod, my fingers, her.

"Thank you for the food and beer. I would like to eat your face now," I said.

It was an awkward thing to say, but there it was. I'd said it.

She laughed and said, "Let's go to sleep."

I stayed planted in the potato chair. She stood and took me by the hand and guided me out of the kitchen, up a green spiral staircase, and into a curved room. In the center of the room was a translucent, squishy bed filled with syrup. She slipped out of her green dress and we got into bed.

We met in the center of the bed. She folded over me like an umbrella. The pale green night came through the window and made our bodies look as if they were one body, like two ghosts sharing the same sheet. We nuzzled our faces together to complete the illusion.

I opened my mouth to say something but there was nothing to say. This was one of those greatest moments the dead sun told me about. Our touching each other was a thing no words could stomp into the ground.

"Do you have enough blankets?" she said.

"Yes, thank you. What kind of blankets are these?"

"They are crepe blankets."

"I like them."

"Thank you. I made them myself."

She planted her peanut butter lips over my cracked and salty smile.

Our mouths together, we shared a yummy dream.

*

Fanny Fod and I woke up early the next morning. Syrup fastened our foreheads together. Our limbs were tangled in a comfortable knot.

In one swift motion, she pulled away from me and sat up in bed.

"I like you," she said. "And I appreciate your company, but I'm not just going to fall into your arms. You have to know that."

I sighed. What a turnaround. Was love going to be as hard to maintain as everything else?

"I came all this way," I said. "You were waiting for a sad thing and I came. I'm your sad thing."

"I know that you're sad, but you are not the last sad creature in the universe. You might be the wrong sad thing for me."

"I can feel it. We're meant for each other, Fanny Fod."

"Gaston Glew, after so many years of feeling wrong in heart and broken in mind, why do you continue following your thoughts and feelings? I've been happy all my life and even I know better than to trust what I think and feel."

"See, right there. There's us being meant for each other. That's not something you would know about me from the short time we've known each other, and I know things I shouldn't know about you. It's unreal. You were calling to me through outer space. The telescopes in our minds were programmed to seek each other out."

"I don't have a telescope in my mind. My head is too flat."

"Okay, fine, anyway, I know I'm right," I said. "I never put trust in anyone, but I trust you already."

"You don't know me."

"I don't know anyone."

"Then it's a choice you've made to trust me, and it sounds to me like you've made a lot of bad decisions in your life. You're being rash."

"I escaped my destined fate to rot away with the rest of the pickles, didn't I?"

"That may have been your worst decision of all."

"There it is again. The psychic connection. You wouldn't make that judgment unless you knew me far beyond anything I've said. Exile was my best decision. I tried to fit in. I tried to be a good pickle. Now that I've experienced this other world, the most terrifying prospect is going back to Pickled Planet, to what I was before."

"What you were is what a part of you will always be."

"I thought you pancakes believed nothing is eternal."

"Most believe it, but I don't." She hesitated for a few breaths, then said, "Are you really happy here?"

"I'm happy. I'm happy and I'm speaking honestly."

"You're speaking honestly?"

"Yes," I said.

"You're speaking honestly?"

"Yes, I think so."

 "Okay, if you're speaking honestly, why are you not out trimming the sun's mustache right now? Isn't that where you should be?"

"Oh, that," I said.

"It's okay. You can tell me. Do you also want to tell me if you had any special encounters with any pancakes yesterday? It's okay if you did. It's okay to tell me why you were naked when I shot you out of your balloon."

I cracked up inside. I felt a lot depended on my response. Either way I was doomed.

"Well?" she said.

I was out of space to breathe.

"No, no special encounters," I said.

Fanny pursed her peanut butter lips into a disappointed half-smile that was flecked with syrup. I felt bad about lying to her, but I had other things to worry about. My belly was grumbling. I was hungry. Her face looked so delectable, I wanted to eat her for breakfast. I wanted to flatten her on the bed and eat her.

"I have to go," she said. "Help yourself to anything. Go anywhere. But whatever you do, don't enter the dungeon."

*

Fanny left the castle to distribute beer around Pancake Island. I drifted back to sleep and slept in later than I had in my entire life. It was a more relaxing sleep than any I'd gotten on Pickled Planet. My sleep there was troubled, full of night tremors and voices telling me to do things in the dark, so I had to sleep with the lights on most nights, if I could fall asleep at all. Most nights I tossed and turned in fear of the faces detached from bodies that I thought were pressing against every window of the house. The faces were not trying to break into the house. They were trying to smother it. I laid awake, holding my breath and sweating brine, waiting for the heads to come for me. Some nights I couldn't take it. I locked myself in the bathroom and wrapped myself around the toilet and cried uncontrollably. I slammed my head against the toilet seat until I lost consciousness and stopped thinking about the faces. Blackouts were my only defense against the fear. Most nights, blacking out was the only way I could rest, and even then I sensed the smothering. My brain lost communication with the rest of my body and I sank through layer after layer of green sand.

And so waking in the morning, feeling alive and rested in someone else's bed, I sprang up, ran to the rooftop, and shouted to the world, "Peace be with you!"

I felt every atom burst in pancake peace and harmony. I wanted to bless everyone.

"Pancake love for all!"

Restful sleep had also invigorated my curiosity, which was perfect because Fanny was out and I had the entire zucchini castle to explore. The starting point was obvious. I'd have to check out the dungeon and see the Cuddlywumpus for myself. It was true that Fanny Fod had kicked me out of her castle after the Cuddlywumpus started howling during our initial encounter, but maybe sleeping together counted as a rite of passage that granted me permission to witness the wonders of the mysterious Cuddlywumpus.