About fifteen minutes later, when I finally wrestled my way out of the revolving door, (it was one of those times I wished I had my GPS with me), I saw Manda waiting for me, tears sprouting out of every pore in her body like ten thousand geysers. She held her dripping arms wide, hoping that I would run into them, and that they worked properly so she didn’t crush any more than four ribs. I would have been the answer to her dreams if I didn’t stop to find a towel. Those thirty seconds were all it took for everything to change. The elevator opened and there stood Laura Lee. I was shocked; she was smiling. She hopped towards me on one foot displaying dexterity that she knew Mander would not be able to duplicate. Women have a sixth sense that alerts them when another woman is vying for a man’s affection even if her competitor is as ugly as chewed food. At the height of each leap she shouted, first, “You Da Man,” and then on repeated hops moaned. “My hero.” Leap. “I love you.” Leap again. “I to want to spend.” Another leap. “the rest of my.” A higher leap, this time waiting to stick the landing, before speaking, throwing her hands out to her side dramatically like a bird, or a penguin and sung almost, no exactly-Beatlesque, “date with you-you-you. I want to hold Da Man!” When I didn’t respond right away she loosened her ponytail allowing her hair to fall to her shoulders. She undid a button or two on her blouse, put on fish net stockings, took off her 7-inch spiked heels and kicked them to me (one stuck in my face and she laughed) and then pursed her lips like a fish pressing against the glass of a tank and moaned, “No more Match.com for me, b-b-b big b-b-b-boy.”
Mander not to be outdone groaned, “Avavaavaa Ewtingo satpu loggoooo,” which I don’t think she even knew what she said or even got close to the seductive B sound.
Laura Lee smiled coldly and spoke. “I’m wait-ting.”
On one hand, there was Mander who loved me unconditionally, but when I took a good long look at her, even with the duct tape hanging from her mouth dripping with drool, still made me want vomit on her face so I couldn’t see it.
On the other hand I had Laura Lee who loved only herself unconditionally, but made my loins produce smoke, and with a wink or with a picture of her in bed straddling a handcuffed violin and a large black cello, could make me toss away my porn (the stuff still on VHS).
There I was the savior of the human race, standing before a beautiful, sexy, nasty little bitch and a fish-gut faced caring person. We humans were given a chance to start over: to learn from the past, to correct our mistakes, to make wiser choices. It was up to me to choose between the ugly, the good, and the beautiful bad. I swept back my greasy hair, wiped the blood and viscera off my hands and onto my pants, tucked in my shirt, which I should have done before I blew my nose on the sleeve, spit out rancid food that was stuck between my teeth, cleared my throat of phlegm, saliva and hair balls, (I had eaten Chinese food last week), and then turned to the two women. For almost a minute I couldn’t utter a word, although I was able to mime playing the banjo. Finally, I smiled and looked toward the women.
Before I could even speak a word, Laura Lee burst out laughing. “I can’t believe you’d even think for one second, or even five tenths of a second, I’d go for a lizard-brained low life, mutating sack of DNA like you.”
“But you said, I was Da Man and that you love me.”
“I was yanking your repulsive chain. You da m-m-m-moron! ” She laughed so free and hard, it became infectious. I couldn’t help myself and I started laughing, even Mander laughed. We didn’t care. Why should we? What the hell, funny was funny.
The laughter went on until Mander began making prolonged gurgling sounds raspy enough I thought she was trying to imitate Rod Stewart under water. That started Laura Lee and I laughing again, this time actually guffawing, both of us holding our stomachs with the same three fingers on our right hands. Coincidence? Who knows? This wasn’t the time to investigate.
It was only after Mander, wheezed a gallon of mucous on a half a roll of duct tape, fell, cracked her skull, broke her neck in a couple of places (fortunately not seriously) and turned blue, that we suspected she had stopped breathing. We knew it for sure when the duct tape that hung from her mouth like the dark side of flounder was no longer flapping. Laura Lee, who thought Mander’s blue-pallor matched her outfit dashed to her side.
“I’ve never seen that shade of blue. I’d love a handbag that color,” Laura swooned, lifting rolls of loose flesh from the back of Mander’s arms and holding them against her dress. I wish I had a knife.”
“I think she’s choking to death,” I shouted as I ran after Laura Lee, trying keep within her shadow because it was at least three degrees cooler.
“It’s a shame, it’s the best she’s ever looked. I’d like to get a picture, so I can paint my room that color,” Laura took out her iPhone and starting snapping photos.
“Do you know CPR?” I asked, shielding my eyes from the iPhone’s flash.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because maybe we can save her?”
“Oh. I can see your logic,” she said admiring the pictures she’d just taken.
“Well, can you?”
“Sure, I taught a class to people who eat a lot of fish. They have tiny bones that get caught in--”
I interrupted. “That’s the Heimlich maneuver.”
“Duh! I know that. I wasn’t very good at it, and most of my student’s family members choked to death, so I began teaching CPR. I made a fortune because they all wanted to kiss me. Little did they know the AMA said mouth to mouth CPR doesn’t work.”
“Can you perform CPR on Mander?”
“Without doing the Heimlich maneuver first? I guess I could try. ” She stopped snapping pictures and started videoing while she jumped on Mander’s chest--hopping up and down on one foot trying start her heart, unfortunately using the foot with the high heel on it. I attempted to help, but my longer leg got tangled up on the duct tape and stumbled, landing face-to-face with Mander. Before I could vomit or scream for help, Laura Lee’s heel got caught in between one of Mander’s ribs and she fell on me, causing her to fling the iPhone to the ground.
The high heel must have awakened Mander’s heart. Her large ears stiffened and lifted off her eyes, which popped open and she started to breathe, her nose hairs tickling our faces. Laura Lee also infatuated by nostril follicles giggled and then softly moaned. The three of us were all looking at each other and what happened next none of us anticipated. It must have been the combination of our body’s chemical reactions to each other, mixed with Bliffover’s cure, because the three of us were suddenly bursting with passion. All I know was that it was wild, instinctive, pure ecstasy with various bodily fluids exchanged--mostly from open sores.
Whatever it was, it didn’t matter, because we were greater than the sum of us; we were no longer just three lonely people, we were three and seven-sixteenths. No future zombie attack, nor threat of nuclear enemas, or the forced removal of deviated septums, or being run through a wood chipper backwards, could separate us, or break our bond. It wasn’t love, no. We were drawn to each other by something stronger and more powerful, the uninhibited sexual desires that we gladly sold to each other.
It’s been six months since the zombie epidemic. Bliffover got so famous for the vaccine that saved the world he became the star of his own reality show and was able to rebuild his medical practice despite killing all his patients on the air. Jo kept the silent e in his name but removed the o. Skim Milk and Maria were arrested for indecent exposure and were executed. Klaus was completely cured of zombie-ism, but died when Dr. Bliffover tried to cure his schizophrenia by chopping him in half. Shrimp had an operation that added a foot to his height, but unfortunately a side effect prevented him from standing. Laura Lee paid to have her high heel removed from Mander’s heart and replaced by a cheaper shoe. And me? I found Laura Lee’s iPhone video, transferred it to DVD and I’m making a fortune with my true to life porno stories, D-D-D-Dates of the Dead.