The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove - By Christopher Moore Page 0,48
of ointment. So ring it up so I can go be nuts somewhere else. Okay?"
The hens huddled and tittered.
"Or do I need to buy a case of those huge fluorescent orange prelubricated condoms with the deely-bobbers on the tip and blow them up in your card section." You never have to get this tough with Sand Pirates, Molly thought.
The hens broke their huddle and looked up in terror.
"I hear they're like thousands of tiny fingers, urging you to let go," Molly added.
Between the four of them it only took ten minutes more to ring up Molly's order and figure her change within the nearest dollar.
As Molly was leaving, she turned and said, "In the Outland, you would have all been made into jerky a long time ago."
Fifteen
Steve
Getting blown up had put the Sea Beast in a deep blue funk. Sometimes when he felt this way, he would swim to the edge of a coral reef and lie there in the sand while neon cleaner fish nipped at the parasites and algae on his scales. His flanks flashed a truce of color to let the little fish know that they were safe as they darted in and out of his mouth, grabbing bits of food and grunge like tiny dental hygienists. In turn, they emanated an electromagnetic message that translated roughly to: "I won't be a minute, sorry to bother you, please don't eat me."
He was getting a similar message from the warmblood that was ministering to his burns, and he flashed the truce of color along his sides to confirm that he understood. He couldn't pick up the intentions of all warmbloods, but this one was wired differently. He could sense that she meant him no harm and was even going to bring him food. He understood that when she made the "Steve" sound, she was talking to him.
"Steve," Molly said, "stop making those colors. Do you want the neighbors to see? It's broad daylight."
She was on a stepladder with a paintbrush. To the casual observer, she was painting her neighbor's trailer. In fact, she was applying great gobs of Neosporin oint ment to the Sea Beast's back. "You'll heal faster with this stuff on you, and it doesn't sting."
After she had covered the charred parts of the trailer with ointment, she draped fiberglass fabric on as bandages and began ladling roof-patching tar over the fabric. Several of her neighbors looked out their windows, dismissed her actions as more eccentricities of a crazy woman, then went back to their afternoon game shows.
Molly was spreading the roofing tar over the fiberglass bandages with a squeegee when she heard a vehicle pull up in front of her trailer. Les, the hardware guy, got out of the truck, adjusted his suspenders, and headed toward her, looking a little nervous, but resolved. A light dew of sweat shone on his bald head, despite the autumn chill in the air.
"Little lady, what are you doing? I thought you were going to wait for me to help you."
Molly came down from her ladder and stood with the squeegee at port arms while it dripped black goo. "I wanted to get going on this before dark. Thanks for coming." She smiled sweetly - a leftover movie star smile.
Les escaped the smile to hardware land. "I can't even tell what you're trying to do here, but whatever it is, it looks like you mucked it up pretty bad already."
"No, come here and look at this."
Les moved cautiously to Molly's side and looked up at the trailer. "What the hell is this thing made of anyway? Up close it looks like plastic or something."
"Maybe you should look at it from the inside," Molly said. "The damage is more obvious in there."
The hardware clerk leered. Molly felt him trying to stare through her sweatshirt. "Well, if that's what you think. Let's go inside and have a look." He started toward the door of the trailer.
Molly grabbed his shoulder. "Wait a second. Where are the keys to your truck?"
"I leave 'em in it. Why? This town is safe."
"No reason, just wondering." Molly dazzled him with another smile. "Why don't you go on in? I'll be in as soon as I get some of this tar off of my hands."
"Sure thing, missy," Les said. He toddled toward the front door like a man badly in need of a rest room.
Molly backed away toward Les's truck. When the hardware clerk laid a hand on the door handle, Molly called, "Steve! Lunch!"