OCTOPUS'S GARDEN
BY AURELIA BLUE
So you might as well know, Vampires don't sparkle when they see me. And if one did happen to bite me, I'd be one dead shitehead just like anyone else. Or a zombie person. Make that a zombie faery in my case.
Oh right, I know you didn't think that we have real faeries here in Michigan. Well we do of course, just like everywhere else in the world. I'm actually British. No not really, but me Mum is and since we live for hundreds of years and aren't apt to change our ways, I've been raised her way all me life and love bangers and mash and speak with the Surrey on Avon Hill accent that all us faeries from there use.
"Yeah, about that," my best mate, Tirzah, butts in on the line," Why are you speaking in that ridiculous Rimmel London advert sorta way? You sound like a husky bloke with a mouthful of marbles."
As if she'd know. She's originally from Chelsea. As in the one by the sea, not the totals cool one in NYC.
"It's my sexy accent, ‘course! And I do not sound like some husky bloke with marbles in his mouth. I sound sultry. It's way better than tinkling on like a wood faery. It's alluring. Dangerous."
"Dangerous?!" And she drops her phone with all the laughing she's doing on her end.
Either that or she's finally bludgeoned her stupid cracked skull with it and fallen down hysterical and can't get up. Is it bad of me to rather hope for that last bit? I don't really mean it. It's just this has been such a frustrating day.
Because apparently, I not only lack the capacity to make vampires sparkling and ravenous, but I seem not to have any affect on atheists either. Sadly. And of that, I lament.
"So he's really gorgey then, is he Tallurah?" Tirzah is back on the line now.
"Yeah. Super. Totals. Gorgey."
"And you're sure he's an atheist?"
"Well, yeah, totals. I mean he's a counselor over at the camp."
"Oh, the atheist camp then, for the atheist kids?"
"Well totals duh. Why else would he be there?"
"Needs money?"
"I really don't think, Tirzah, that people as serious as atheists would hire some random bloke who could be apt to spew Christianicity or Hinduisms at their precious children who they send to their special atheist summer camp for atheist kids so's they have a place all's there own to enjoy the summer camp experience without fear of any religious indoctrination. I mean being atheist isn't akin to being amoral."
"Spew Christianicity or Hinduisms?" And she's back to the laughing. Maybe she will really do herself in this time. "Well then he'd better stay out your dad's store then. 'Twix the two of your parents, that's 'bout all he'd find, ha ha." And the laugh fest continues. I swear I can actually hear her rolling around on the floor.
My dad runs a little convenience mart here in Allegan. It's called Octopus's Garden because of all the surrounding little lakes, not to mention the gargantuan great one just an hour due west. And of course I work here because child labor, especially when it's your own child, is cheap. Okay, Dad pays me a little stipend for doing it. But it's thankless I tell you.
I mean the abuse alone. Patrons always coming in and complaining about the price of this and that as if we are just doing this as a hobby. How do they think the delivery system works getting it from the farm to them? And then there are the downright heinous folks who call us names. Me dad and mum met in jolly old England. But he was originally from India. Faery migrations are as common as human migrations. After all, if you didn't know we were faeries, we'd never tell and you'd never know it to look at us. But our cradle o'civilization complexions are hard to miss. Yet apparently even harder to properly identify.
"Really," a disgusted grumpy old man is saying now as he thrusts his money at me, "Paki Saks are a dime a dozen 'round here, you all might remember that!"
I smile and say, "Thank you, come again," as I silently flip him off under the counter. But such is life.
And life can be so good. Especially when there's a handsome young counselor from the atheist camp in town for the summer. Although you wouldn't have known it this morning when said gorgey hunk was in for a coffee and two gallons of milk.
He walked all through the store sipping that cuppa like he was looking for something way more than milk. And who am I if not a consummate sales clerk, so I'm following him 'round offering my assistance and telling him if he needs anything just ask for Tallurah, 'cause that's me. And he just gives a little grin and keeps right on sipping and looking about with me subtly trailing as I pretend to straighten the stock or take inventory so he doesn't think I'm an outright stalker. For five minutes. Five whole bloody minutes!
Then he comes to the counter with just the two milks and his empty cup and gives me a tenner.
"Keep the change, Talea," he says and when our hands touch, it's like magic. I am so charmed off my feet, I forget to even correct him about my name. And then he's gone.
"Bloke can't even remember your name? I'd say bollocks to him then," says Tirzah through the phone.
"Well maybe he was just as stoked by the electricity running through our touch as I was, and he wasn't thinking straight."
"Or he just didn't care enough to take proper note. Perhaps he fancies a nice atheist girl back at the camp then?"
"Well I don't know, I was being my most alluring! After all I tucked my apron at the waist to give meself a figure and my hair is down. Oh, and I used my sexy dangerous voice."
"Oh God, that's probs what done it!" Tirzah is in a fit of giggles again. Really, she is just too much.
"And perhaps he is a visual learner and not so verbal," I continue, "Maybe my sexyanity was overwhelming. I can be a handful you know."
"Yes, but were his hands on you?"
"I told you! The hand brush with the tenner!"
"Right. Yes. Well. That is curious then."
"As I said."
"Yes, you did," she says all seriously, but I know she is just moments away from another laugh fit.
"Well, I did also happen to think that he might be batting for the other team," I add cautiously waiting for the cacophony of giggles to take over again. Thankfully they don't.
"Really?" Tirzah is really serious now.
"Well yeah. Possibly. I mean he did resist my every charm."
"Hmmm," says Tirzah.
"Yeah," I say.
I did actually entertain the thought, although the only eligible bach I know that I might set him up with is my creepy cousin Purvis who lives in the attic over Octopus's Garden and likes to torment me regulars.
"But I thought Purvis has himself a boyfriend," Tirzah comes on the line again.
"Oh bloody hell, I'd forgotten all about Matt," I say, "you're right. He was the one who told me about the pink unicorn thing."
"The what?"
"At the atheist camp. They say they have a bloody pink unicorn living there on the grounds. And they say it exists, 'cause they say it does, and no one can prove or disprove it, so that makes it that. It's some kind of anti-religious statement."
"But a unicorn is the symbol of the Holy Christ, himself," Tirzah says with such awe I can almost hear her crossing herself.
"I know, rights? Atheists are kinda funny aren't they? Oh speaking of which," I breathe excitedly into the phone, "gotta go, guess who just rode up on his bike?"
"Sexy Atheist Boy?"
"Yes!"
"Oh what's he doing now?"
"Tying the bike lock."
"And now?"
"Walking in!" I am shriek whispering into the receiver now, " Got to go!"
"Maybe you should glow for him."
"What!" I speak now in my normal voice only about eight decibels louder. "Are you serious? This ain't a bloody blue moon!"
"Well no, but I hear there's one in two weeks," says a startled looking gorgey atheist boy who has just stepped through the door of Octopus's Garden.
"Oh God," I gasp as Tirzah dissolves into giggles hanging up.
I turn to replace the receiver on the wall.
"Well, I don't know about God," he says with that same smile from this morning, "Why don't you just call me Sam?"
"Right then, Sam. Hello Sam. Sam of the Atheist camp, is it?"
He eyes me curiously.
I strike a seductive pose as I lean back against the counter with my left rump and hip, as I extend my right hand.
"Well, yeah, I guess I am," he says taking my hand (ooh sparks!), "And you are Talea of the Octopus's Garden?"
"Tallurah," I correct, desperately wishing my dad had been cool enough to name this place something edgier like The Severed Unicorn Head, like they have over in Ypsi.
"Tallurah," he repeats, "Well Tallurah, I was wondering if you can help me find a new pair of pants," he says motioning downward toward his waist.
And as I follow with my eyes, I faint dead away at what I see.
