The Best Side: Part 5

“I hope it’s a good secret,” the Dame said. “As in ‘fully automatic with lots of ammo.’”

“Better.”

An eyebrow went up. “I’m intrigued.” There was a slight pause. “What are you grinning about?”

“Well,” I began. “It’s just that you’re the first woman to be intrigued by something in my pants in a long time.”

The Dame rubbed her temple and sighed. “If we weren’t in danger, I’d shoot you.”

“Well, that’s nice to know,” I said. “As our friends are getting ready to rumble.”

The Dame looked left and right. The mimes were already up and pretending that a wind was pushing them towards the buffet, while the ninjas were flourishing their shinobi katana and adjusting their masks.

The Dame started to rise, her .38 clutched tightly in her right hand. “I thought you said they had to go potty first.”

“Well,” I began, as I stood and walked around to her side of the table. “Ninjas never go potty and the mimes just pretended they did.”

“Ninjas don’t go potty?” she asked, her eyes darting back and forth between the mimes and ninjas.

“Have you ever seen a ninja in a bathroom?”

“No.” She glanced over at me, as I held out my hand. “What are you doing?”

“Getting us out of the decapitation zone.”

On cue, the music, a reggae version of ‘Better Be Home Soon,’ the 1988 Crowded House single ended and a metal version of ‘Eidelweisse’ commenced.

I took the Dame’s hand and despite my stiff leg, waltzed her out of the dining room and into the kitchen. We went right by the mimes, one of whom stepped back and let us pass.

I let go after a last twirl and glanced around. Iggy’s kitchen was empty, save for the usual assortment of stoves, pots, goat heads, wind instruments, and rusty bone saws.

The Dame was staring at me. “What the hell just happened?” she finally asked.
“I got us out of there,” I said, as I opened a cupboard at random. It made the Wilhelm Scream, so I opened and shut it a couple times, until the Dame cocked her pistol by my head.

“First,” she began. “Stop that. Second, why the hell didn’t they try to kill us?”

“It would be rude to attack someone waltzing,” I said, as I pawed through the chainsaw drawer. “Oh, it’s fine to gut somebody during a foxtrot, but never a waltz.”

The Dame stared at me, her arms folded. One of the doves landed on her shoulder, but she didn’t appear to notice. “Your world,” she finally said, “is just weird.”

“Thanks.”

“That wasn’t a compliment. And what are you looking for?”

“Nothing, really,” I replied, shutting a drawer full of glass eyes. “I was just waiting for the numbers to thin out there.”

“Can’t we just leave through the back door?” she asked, pointing at the back door.

“Nah, we did that last time.” I undid my belt and started to unzip my pants.

“What the hell are you doing?” the Dame almost shrieked, spinning around.

“Getting out my secret,” I said. There was a clang as a crowbar fell to the kitchen floor.

The Dame glanced over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “A crowbar?"

“That’s not it.” I said. “That’s just in case I find any crates or headcrabs.” A set of jumper cables joined the crowbar on the floor. “I always carry some,” I explained. “And here we go.”

The Dame stared, as did the dove, which pooped on her shoulder. The Dame didn’t notice.

“I take it back,” she finally said. “You’re not clever or stupid. You’re just nuts.”

Next: Part 6