A Drunken Visit with Kat Nove

If I Can't Wave Like A Princess I Must Be A Loser

Kat Nove

Today I will be reviewing Kat Nove's book If I Can't Wave Like A Princess I Must Be A Loser. But first a treat. Kat is in the house! The tequila is flowing so be prepared. I had set out a nice little spread of dainty teacakes and cucumber sandwiches with tea. Okay I am lying. I do not drink tea and right now the closest you are getting to teacakes in my house is some Samoan Girl Scout Cookies, (thank you to all the Girl Scouts who sell these wonderful cookies every year at the local Fred Meyers). So for this monumental meeting I set out Coronas with lime and salt and Ceviche Tostada Chips (just top a bunch of tortilla chips with a bit of ceviche and swoon from the deliciousness). Kat walked in with Patrón. It went uphill from there. Or downhill. Depends on the moment. 

Me: Hi Kat! Come on in and get comfortable.

Kat: Wow! your house looks nice and clean.

Me:  Yeah I cleaned it just for you. Had I known what a true slob you are I wouldn't have bothered. And just why are you such a slob?  Your spare room sounds horrifying.

Kat:  Why do you care?  It’s not like I’m ever going to invite you over.

Me:  That’s pretty rude.

Kat:  No, it’s not.  I've made it perfectly clear that visitors must sign off on my guidelines. You’re way too big a flake to sign off and return the form.

Me: I would have signed the stupid form if I remembered where I put it. Since I had to do this big cleaning job it is now in the garbage. Where it belongs. By the way, do you know it is legal to shoot rude guest in Alaska? 

(Disclaimer: I made this up. You cannot randomly shoot people in Alaska no matter how much they may deserve it ...but she might not know this).

Once we were settled we started talking about her obsession with Johnny Depp which is clearly apparent to anyone who has read If I Can't Wave Like A Princess I Must Be A Loser. As she spoke about John I began to wonder if she had been drinking before she arrived or was just delusional.  If you think I am lying wait until read her book. Then Kat said something that almost made me drop my Corona.

Me: Wait a minute. Let me get this clear. Are you saying you do not want to have sex with Johnny Depp? After all the space you gave him in your book?

Kat:  That’s exactly what I’m saying.  I think he’s quite possibly the best actor living and he seems to be a genuinely fabulous human being, but even if he had hundred dollar bills taped to his oh-so-perfect body, I have no interest in having sex with him.  I am interested in the hundred dollar bills though.

Me:  What on earth could account for your attitude?  Even straight guys want to do Johnny Depp.

Kat:  I’m deeply committed to my menopause.

Me: Okay. I guess I get that. I also would not do John. His brother, (writer Daniel Depp), though could probably spin some story that would have me in another world allowing him to get his desire met. If he has desire. They are age 40+  guys . Their desire may be to have control of the remote and smoke while playing video games, (he could get that, too). Seems to be a universal guy thing.

Note: No one should not be upset about this as I am absolutely positive Johnny Depp does not want me either. 

Speaking of sex,  I can’t believe you got stuck to a wiener dog.  Other than on porn sites, I've never heard of that happening.

Kat:  I can’t believe you go to porn sites where people are stuck to dogs.  That’s sick!

Me: Actually it was on television. SP as you know Kat, is in total control of the remote. By the way nice flipping of the subject. 

(I cannot say SP's name as he has threatened me with dire consequences if I do. I must admit I almost want to say it just to know what they are)

Me: Okay so you are not going to talk about it. How about  telling us what the headline would say, if you were written about in the newspaper and it was on the front page?

Kat: KAT WRITES PURRFECT BOOK.  Hey, it’s a stupid headline, but I can’t be held responsible for the dumbing down of America.

Me: I actually was thinking more along the lines of Writer Kat Nove Tells All - Family Sues!

I would sue you if I were your family. Guess you lucked out with people who love you. 

Me: I can't help but think about your adventures with Jeni Decker. After reading If I can't Wave Like A Princess and the two Waiting for Karl Rove Books, I am interested to know what you think would be a fitting epitaph on your gravestone? I am of course not saying that Jeni Decker is going to get you killed on a road trip.

Kat: KAT NOVE – SHE DIED IN POVERTY SO GRAVE ROBBERS MOVE ALONG

Me: Wow! I think that one would work for me too, with the name changed of course. Speaking of death, I need to ask you about your recent head spinning and pea soup spitting episode. If you don't pay your exorcist, do you get repossessed?

Kat: First of all, I don’t have an exorcist.  Second of all, I can’t afford to pay anyone because I work retail.  Finally, a demon would have to be pretty lame to possess someone who doesn't even believe in his boss.  And for the record, even if a demon possessed me, I still wouldn't believe in his boss.  Yes, I’m THAT stubborn.

Me: That explains a lot. Just saying. So then if aliens landed in front of you and offered you any position on their planet, what position would you want? 

Kat: CEO of Lactose Tolerant Milky Way Ice Cream.

Me: Thanks a lot. Now I will wake suddenly in the night and want ice cream with Milky Way bars. Carrying on with our paranormal theme here, what happens if Batman gets bitten by a vampire?

 Kat: Well, it’s not as if he could become any more angst-filled, so I imagine he would get Lucius Fox to build him a light-resistant coffin which doubles as a submarine, sauna and spaceship.  Then he could fight crime and relieve stress during the day. Oh, wait. He never fought crime during the day anyway.  I'm not sure if he relieves stress during the day. Or how he relieves stress.  I'm thinking daily happy endings at exclusive massage parlor. Anyway, I think my point it that Batman is nocturnal no matter what.  Now why don't you ask me if Aquaman has ever made out with an octopus or if the Flash is even capable of thinking of baseball while having sex.  Damn!  I bet he's disappointed a LOT of women. Never mind.

Me: Since you seem to have superior knowledge of super heroes, please tell us why do all the superheroes wear underpants on the outside?

Kat: Because the inside is where they stash their penises and/or vaginas.

Me: Well you have quickly finished off a bottle of Tequila. Not implying anything by that. Maybe this is the time to ask you if it is true cannibals don't eat clowns because they taste funny?

Kat: No, it’s because polyester and pierrot whiteface tastes like shit.

Me: I do not even want to know how you know what that taste like. Back to If I Can't Wave Like A Princess, you devote a section to Scarlett and Rhett from Gone With The Wind. This could make you the go to person for the causes of the Civil War. In your opinion, what were they? 

Kat: The South becoming a crop economy, States rights vs. Federal rights, nullification, slavery, and the election of Abraham Lincoln.  Frankly, you could have Googled the answer to this question, but far be it from me to criticize my interviewer.

Me: Just trying to pump up your intelligence. Let's face it, ( I noticed this while reading your books), you have made some decisions that have called your intelligence into question. Let me try again. Why isn't chocolate considered a vegetable, if chocolate comes from cocoa beans, and all beans are a vegetable?

Kat: It’s not a vegetable?  I call bullshit on that and will keep eating the recommended four servings of vegetables a day.

Me: Thank you for verifying that. I will also continue to eat the recommended amount daily. One last shot at your intelligence. Why isn't the number 11 pronounced as onety one?

Kat: Because Noah Webster was a humorless asshole.

Me:  I read your book and made note that you left something out. The infamous incident of 2006. Does it still haunt you? You know. THAT incident. I will not name it as it could cause a reaction that I am not willing to deal with. However, your readers do want to know. They have "enquiring minds".

Kat: I never even think about it. Unless I see a nurse. Or a doctor. Or a hospital. Or an ambulance.  Or a scalpel.  Or any sharp object.  Or a commercial for antibiotics.  Or a plumber  bending over.  Or a nuclear power plant meltdown.

Me: Okay I can see you winding up, (though it is debatable if the cause was the question or your drunken state). Leave my dog alone!  How about you just entertain us Remote Control Terrorist style. 

(Readers Remote Control Terrorist is Kat's SO. He cannot be named either.)

Kat; I’m juggling cats.  Can you see me?  Oh, shit.  Who says cats always land on their feet?  And do cats even have feet?  Why don’t we say cats always land on their paws?  Okay, enough juggling.  (Say the cats.)  Now I’m dancing. 

Kat:  I’m the one in the lemon chiffon outfit.  I’m a really good dancer.  No, make that a really great dancer.  Baryshnikov, eat your heart out and then come over and sit on my lap.  Kat has something to show you.  Cristina, Mikhail has requested that you avert your eyes during this portion of the interview.  Cue the completely unrelated short foreign film.   

 Me: Okay you have redeemed yourself with the last video. Remote Control Terrorist enjoys some interesting entertainment. I like Om Shanti Om though I question the cat juggling.  Due to RCT's entertainment choices, it is iffy on whether or not I request that silly form to visit you again. While Kat entertains Mikhail I will write up the review. 

Oh look. She is passed out… I think my dog just peed on her. 

(Disclaimer: Readers, I would never have permitted her to juggle some poor innocent animal and she is way too drunk to get up from the sofa so the juggling did not happen ..at my house anyway.)

If I Can't Wave Like a Princess, I Must Be A Loser is a slice of Kat Nove's life. As I have come to expect from Kat Nove much of it is humorous. I can count on laughing hard when I read her writings, be it a book or her blog. I really enjoyed reading If I Can't Wave Like A Princess as it presented so many windows into Kat Nove. This book is a mixture of sarcasm, humor, pain, and love. It is truly a slice of life. I recommend it though it is not for the easily offended. If you made it this far, you are definitely the type who would love this book. Go check it out. 

If you are still not convinced I will share a couple of excerpts from 'If I Can't Wave Like A Princess I Must Be A Loser'.

Conversation with Richard - Losing Track of Who Starts the Guilt Trip (Part 2)   

“You realize I’m almost sixty, don’t you?”  

“Rolling his eyes, Richard said, “Oh, yeah.”  

“Don’t worry, I’ll be dead soon and you can find a younger girlfriend.”  

Richard snorted and said, “I don’t have to wait until you’re dead to do that.

The Interrogation

This hasn’t happened to me… yet.  

"Why'd you do it?" he asked.  

He must be the good cop; the grandfatherly one. Too bad he didn't know my grandfather ran away to become a Somalia pirate when I was only two.  

I maintained my stony silence.  

"Are you sure you understand your rights?" he continued. “You're entitled to a lawyer."  

"I hate lawyers."  

"Fair enough. Who doesn't? So, are you going to tell us why you did it?" 

 I gave him the look of contempt he deserved. 

"I've had it with her, Hank," the other cop snarled. “Give me five minutes alone with her and she'll talk."

Ah, the bad cop; younger, better looking, surly and totally without charm. Under normal circumstances, just my type.  

"Calm down, Sarge. You act like I killed your grandmother. How about giving me a cigarette?”   He leaned over the table until our noses were almost touching. A vein pulsed in his forehead. He did have lovely eyelashes though. 

"You psycho bitch! You did kill my grandmother! I live… lived with her."  

Oops! Talk about irony. 

"All I can say is she deserved killing." 

Okay, maybe that was the wrong thing to say, seeing as how it took Grandpa Cop about five minutes to remove Sgt. Takes Things Too Seriously’s hands from my throat.  

“I’ll talk. I'll talk. Just keep this son of a bitch and his Oedipal complex off me."

"So go ahead, Ms. Nove," Grandpa Cop wheezed. I'd say the Krispy Kremes might have had a deleterious effect on his ability to pull the mama's boy off me.  

"Let me think. It all started in the first grade, when Johnny McDougall showed me his penis in the back of the school bus."  

"Okay, Miss Smart Ass. I'm going to let Gene have another go at you."  

"Fine. It really started about an hour before my lunch hour. Literally. My period started; and according to God's master plan, I had to be out of tampons. Menopause was a distant memory to my female co-workers, so no help there. This meant a trip to the ladies room and the pleasant feel of wadded up toilet paper. Which, I might add, is slightly less effective than wishing on a star in broad daylight that Johnny Depp will be waiting for me at home, naked and lying on a five-foot pile of hundred dollar bills.”  

I assume that by now alert readers has noticed all the Johnny Depp references. For the record, menopause has insisted I don’t care about sex anymore, but I’m hoping Mr. Depp will hear about all the times I've mentioned him in a flattering way and buy 500,000 copies of this book. Now back to being interrogated.

Disclaimer: In case you are under the mistaken belief I typed all that, I must say it was copied from my Kindle. I also purchased this book. The opinions expressed are mine and I received no compensation for the review or interview. Kat Nove drank all my booze and passed out on my sofa for free. 

Actually Kat Nove wrote her answers from Texas while I wrote the rest from Juneau Alaska. Had she came to visit me we both would have been looking for bail money and quite possibly had been arrested in Wasilla. 

Look for these books by Kat Nove:  

    

Check out her blog at http://katnovian.com/

Other places to find her are:

FaceBook

Twitter

YouTube

Amazon

Google +

Global Swarming

I hope you had as much fun getting to know Kat Nove as I did. She is a funny and cool lady who happens to be a gifted writer. 

Trick or Treat Hop

Happy Halloween Everyone!!

Welcome to my blog stop along the Zompacolypse 2011 Hop!

All the blogs are listed below the Rafflecopter Entry for my stop. To enter - Just be a GFC Follower. Then hop on over to the next blog. Oh but before you go look around and see if you see the candy bucket. That's right. There is a candy bucket on several of the stops so be on the lookout for these special "bonus" treats! Also all this past month I have had short stories and Halloween post from guest writers. So when you have some time stop in and check those out.  Lots of treats from some awesome writers and you can see what books they wrote on the guest post. 

I will be giving away an EBook copy of Zombies Ain't Funny - The Anthology  to 3 lucky winners. 

 

Zombies Ain't Funny! These sixteen stories from talented writers scattered across the earth prove otherwise. Zombie Humor as evidenced by several different viewpoints, styles, and twisted imaginations.

And to 1 lucky winner a copy of my favorite zombie book, The Undead Situation by Eloise J Knapp:

Good Reads:

When people started dying and coming back to life, it wasn’t difficult to start throwing terms like “apocalypse,” and “end of the world,” around. When authorities noticed said walking corpses’ affinity for eating the flesh of the living…well, it was easy to define them as “zombies.” Self-proclaimed sociopath Cyrus V. Sinclair isn’t surprised by the dead rising and roaming the Earth. In fact, he doesn’t mind the idea of staying in his Seattle apartment until the end of days—that is, until meeting up with other survivors’ cramps his style and forces him to reevaluate his outlook on life.

This will be a separate giveaway from my Halloween Fun Giveaway so be sure to check back and enter even if you have entered Halloween Fun. Halloween Fun will have several winners also and the prizes include both print and EBooks.

Candy Bucket Treats!

Halloween Trick or Treating

  

I am so excited by this Halloween event! It is being hosted by Paranormal Wastelands . There is a lot of spooky fun things going on over at Paranormal Wastelands blog. If you are into the scary side of Halloween you need to stop by there everyday for the happenings. I am participating in the Trick or Treating which beigins October 28, 2011. I will be giving away an EBook copy of Zombies Ain't Funny - The Anthology  to 3 lucky winners. 

Zombies Ain't Funny! These sixteen stories from talented writers scattered across the earth prove otherwise. Zombie Humor as evidenced by several different viewpoints, styles, and twisted imaginations.

This will be a separate giveaway from my Halloween Fun Giveaway so be sure to check back and enter even if you have entered Halloween Fun. Halloween Fun will have several winners also and the prizes include both print and EBooks. Be sure to check out the guest posts each weekday as the prizes will be from these authors. 

Have fun with it and if you would like to participate in the Trick or Treating be sure to check out Paranormal Wastelands Zompacolypse 2011 to sign up! 

Happy Halloween!!

Halloween Fun with Kat Nove

FAMILY LORE by Kat Nove

The lean man covered in blood smiled at the busty blonde zombie.  “What scares you?” 

The light cast by the campfire appeared to devour Jo Jo's ravaged face.  She giggled.  “Getting drunk and forgetting I’m wearing granny panties.  You know…in case I feel the urge to remove my pants.”  She winked at Lore, who sat directly across from her.  He grinned. 

Clappie groaned.  “Ho Jo, do you ever think about anything but sex?”

“Sometimes I think about astrophysics and what shade of nail polish to wear.”  All the zombies laughed except Clappie, who sniffed and took a swig of beer.

Hunter said, “We all know you wear thongs, Jo Jo.  Answer Lore’s question.  If you dare.”  He gave his best mad scientist laugh.

“Okay.  I’ll answer his question if everyone else does.  But first he has to answer a question for me.”

“That’s fair.  What’s the question?”

 “How old are you, do you have a girlfriend, how did you end up running a haunted hayride, why are you named Lore and did you know you have the sexiest green eyes I’ve ever seen?”

Clappie snorted and said, “Why don’t you ask him the results of his last herpes test while you’re at it?”

Hunter sprayed a mouthful of beer into the flames and started choking. Dusty pounded him on the back. When Hunter could breathe again he said, “Damn it, Clap, you almost killed me.”

She shrugged and turned back to Jo Jo.  “Seriously.  I can’t figure how you make such good grades when you act like a stereotypical blonde bimbo.”  She looked at the older man and said, “She’s been my roommate for nearly four years and being circumspect isn’t in her DNA.”

“It’s cool.  I don’t mind sharing.  I’m thirty-two and don’t have a girlfriend.  I didn’t realize mine are the sexiest green eyes you’ve ever seen, Jo Jo.  Thanks for the compliment, but perhaps you should get out more.”  Lore waited for the half-drunken laughter to die down before continuing.

“There’s a line from Aleksandr Puskin’s poem The Gypsies.  We are wild and have no laws.   That line could have been written about my mother Serena.  I grew up in carnivals.”

Jo Jo whispered, “A carnie.”

“Yeah, Serena gave birth to me on the Falling Star ride.”

“Holy shit, dude.  Isn’t that the one shaped kinda like a tube which swings back and forth?”Dusty said.

“Give that man another beer.  He knows his carnival rides.  According to Serena, I was also conceived on the Falling Star.”

Dusty shook his head.  “Man, don’t take this the wrong way, but your mother must have been a nutjob.  That ride is killer.  The only time I ever caught the Falling Star, the last thing on my mind was sex.  I did consider pissing myself though.”

“If you knew how unsafe some of those rides are, you’d have done more than consider it.  Serena’s quite a character.  She claims to be a gypsy and is still telling fortunes and putting curses on the marks.  Usually only those who don’t give her a tip though.”

“Do the curses work?” Jo Jo asked.

“I can’t swear they do, but one night after the carnival closed a drunk carnie Serena couldn't stand tried to cop a feel.  Most men probably wouldn't blame him.  She joined some of us at a local bar for a few beers and wore her most flamboyant outfit - gold bracelets, purple and green satin dress, and high heel, lace-up boots.  Serena wasn't shy about her breasts either.  The bodice on the dress revealed as much as the law allowed.

"She walked over to the juke box and deposited her quarters.  A wild and haunting song began to play.  Later the bartender kept telling anyone who would listen that the song wasn't on the play list.  My mother began a slow and erotic dance which mesmerized not only the carnies, but the rest of the men in the bar.  The music got faster and she began to spin in circles - her skirt twirling and her dark wild hair whipping about her lovely face.  The song ended and as she stood there, breasts heaving, the carnie she loathed approached and stuck his hand down the front of her blouse.   He seemed to be in a trance.  She kicked him in the nuts and after that night his nose hair kept growing so fast he couldn’t keep it trimmed.”

“That’s a weird curse, but I kinda like it.  Do you know any others I could use at the restaurant?" asked Hunter, who had worked his way through college as a waiter.

“Best not to tempt the gods, Hunter.  Just keep spitting in your customers’ food.”

Hunter laughed.  “Man, I don’t do that.  What I do is…”

“Stop!”  Clappie shouted.  “I’d like to enjoy fine dining someday without worrying about your bodily fluids in the risotto.”

“It won’t be my fluids, now will it?  Aren’t we all going to be famous actors?”

“Hell, yeah!  No more minimum wage jobs for us.  No offense, Lore.”

“None taken, Dusty.  While I’m not as psychic as my mother, I have been able to predict things at times.  Since you four are the most realistic zombies I’ve ever employed, I have a feeling your stars are on the rise.”

“That gives me goose bumps,” said Jo Jo, as she batted her eyelashes at Lore.  The firelight played on her gruesome face, but even fake rotting zombie flesh couldn’t stop the college senior from flirting with an attractive man.  “Now finish answering my questions.  Please.”

“Life as a carnie gave me a severe case of wanderlust.  I couldn’t stand being tied down forty hours a week working a regular job.  I saved up until I could afford the RV over there.  Then every Halloween I lease a few acres in the woods of whatever state I happen to be in.  Ticket sales pay for advertising, renting the flatbed trailer and actors’ salaries.  What’s left over usually lasts long enough to get me through until the next Halloween.  If it doesn’t I take on odd jobs wherever the road takes me.  It’s not the life for everyone, but it suits me.”

“So, what’s with your name, dude?” asked Dusty.

“Serena wanted a girl and her favorite name was Lorelei.  The German legend fascinated her.”

“What German legend?” said Jo Jo.

“There’s a gigantic rock located at a dangerous curve of the Rhine River.  A siren named Lorelei waits there until a boat approaches.   Then her singing lures the sailors to their deaths.”

Clap said, “And your mother wanted to name you after a psychotic killer siren?”

A gust of wind stirred the flames and a mournful howl from deep in the woods highlighted the long pause following her question.  Lore gave Clappie a piercing look which sent shivers down her spine.  She closed her eyes  and when she opened them again, the congenial man she’d worked with for the past month smiled at her and said, “Apparently.  But remember Serena claims to be a gypsy.  Things like that intrigue her.  She wanted a mythical daughter and got me instead.”

“That takes care of me.  Now back to the original question.  Jo Jo, what scares you?  And not something silly.  It’s Halloween and time to probe the terror deep within us all.”

This time the young woman’s giggle came off nervous and strained.  “I’m afraid of stalkers.”

“Oh, give me a break, you narcissistic piece of work,” Clappie said.  “Nobody’s stalking you.”

“I know, but I’m trying to answer his question seriously.  There’s a reason they scare me.  About fifteen years ago, while I played hopscotch on the sidewalk in front of my house, a man pulled up in a car.  He leaned over, opened the passenger door and said he lost his puppy.   He needed help looking for it.  He seemed nice and so sad.  I really wanted to help him, but remembered that stupid slogan they taught us in elementary school.  Stranger-danger.

“When I told him I couldn’t help, he got out of the car and came for me.  I ran screaming to the house and as he grabbed my ponytail my dad opened the door.  The man turned and ran.  They never caught him.”

“You never told me that story.  I’m sorry about being such a bitch.  That’s awful.”

Jo Jo gave her roommate a shaky smile.  “I’ve never told anyone that story.  It freaks me out too much to talk about it.  I don’t know why I told it now.  I should have said I’m afraid of spiders.”   She looked into Lore’s eyes and shivered.   He’s not smiling, but he still looks positively gleeful.  She turned away and said, “Who’s next?”

The remaining three college students looked at each other.  Dusty sighed.  “I’m afraid to drive.”

“Really?” Clappie asked.  “I knew you never drove, but assumed it was because you didn’t own a car.”

“I used to own a car.  A present for my sixteenth birthday from my parents.  A restored ’68 Mustang.  Man, I loved that car.  I hated going to the grocery store, but started volunteering to pick up shit for my mother so I’d have an excuse to get behind the wheel.”

“So what changed all that?” Hunter asked.

“A car crash.”

“You were in a crash?”

“No.  I witnessed one.  A big rig carrying a load of huge metal pipes jackknifed on the Interstate about a quarter mile ahead of me.  The car following it swerved and at first it looked like everything would be okay.  But the chain holding the pipes snapped and one of them rolled off the truck and bounced right into the windshield of the car.

“It happened so fast.  I slammed on my brakes and dialed 9-1-1.  By the time they answered it was over. I pulled up near the car and jumped out to see if I could help.”

“That was brave of you.”

Dusty snapped, “No it wasn’t, Jo Jo.  I wish I’d never done it.  The driver was a girl who looked about my age.  I found out later she was eighteen.  The kind of girl I used to imagine marrying someday.  Gorgeous.  Long blonde hair and blue eyes.  Her eyes.”  He shuddered.

“What about them?” asked Clappie as she gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

“They were pleading with me to save her.  But I couldn’t.  The pipe had not only gone through the windshield, but also the steering wheel.  It had impaled her to the seat.  No blood at all that I could see.  I guess she was in shock.  She didn’t say anything.  Just looked at me.  I took her hand, held it and told her everything would be alright, but I knew it wouldn’t.  Not ever again.  I watched her eyes die like the bulb in a flashlight which gets dim as the battery wears out.  And then she was gone.  I stood there crying and holding a dead girl’s hand.  Her name was Melanie.

“When the cops and ambulance got there a few minutes later I couldn’t even go sit in my car.  One of the cops moved it to the side of the road and I walked about half a mile into the middle of a field to get away from the highway.  I called my parents to come pick me up.  They sold the Mustang.”

Clappie leaned over and gave him a tight hug.  As he buried his face in her copper hair she could feel him trembling.

Lore said, “Maybe we should quit this.  I had no idea it would be so upsetting to you.  It’s always been a fun tradition at the end of the hayrides.  I feel terrible.”

Clappie looked up and said, “No.  That’s not fair to Jo Jo and Dusty.  It's my turn and I’m afraid of fire.”  She stared into the flames dancing in the campfire.  “Well, maybe not so much fire as being burned alive.

“I also had a traumatic experience when I was a young girl.  My sister, brother and I stole some candles and matches from the house and snuck out to an old panel truck that belonged to my grandfather.  The seats were ripped up and some kind of white stuffing stuck out like bloated, half-melted marshmallows.  We kept lighting and blowing out the candles, pretending it was our birthdays.

“We had so much fun until I held a match too long and it burned my finger.  I dropped the match onto the stuffing and it immediately flared up.  We all turned to run.  I remember thinking if we could get to the hose and spray the fire we wouldn’t get in trouble.  But I was in bigger trouble than getting a spanking.

“The flames caught my hair on fire.  My brother turned back and saw what happened and tackled me into the dirt.  Poor little guy.  He burned the palms of his hands trying to put out the flames.  It only took a few seconds for most of my hair to burn off and the back of my neck got burned.”

She lifted her hair and leaned over for her friends to look at the puckered skin.  “I never put my hair up and this is why.”

Clappie took a deep breath and immediately did what she always did best – make them laugh.  “So, Mr. Lore Meso, that’s why Smoky the Bear is my bestest friend in the whole wide world.”

After the somewhat hysterical laughter died down, Hunter said, “I guess it’s my turn.  I’m afraid of love.”

With the exception of Lore, the others began to laugh until they saw he was serious.  Hunter shrugged.  “Yeah, pretty lame.  My mom used to drink – a lot.  My dad finally couldn’t take it and left us.

“The night he left was horrible.  My mother howled, cried and pleaded with him.  It was like a scene from a bad reality show.  She even fell to the ground and threw her arms around his legs.  He had to drag her along the floor to get out the front door.

“The entire time she kept screaming how much she loved him.  After that she was always drunk.  Dad never forgot to send child support, but he did forget to come see me.  About a year later he remarried and the day after we heard the news, I came home from school to find my mother dead.  She hung herself from a light fixture in the living room.  I was fourteen.”

“I went to live with my father and his wife.  They had a daughter and I could tell they resented me intruding on their happy little lives.  Dad couldn’t stand me being around because I look like my mother.  My stepmother seemed to think insanity is catching and avoided me.  I couldn’t wait to leave for college.”

Hunter’s laugh contradicted the bitterness in his eyes.  “Love’s not for me.  Love will fucking kill you.”

Everyone stared into the flames until Clappie couldn’t take the silence.  She looked at Lore and said, “You were absolutely right.  That was a fun tradition!”  She held up her bottle of beer in a mock toast.  “To fear!”

As one, all four students rose and clinked their bottles together.  “To fear!”

Jo Jo looked at Lore, who remained seated.

“What scares you?”

“You do.  All of you.”  He smiled and said, “Now get out of here and go break a leg, or whatever you’re supposed to say to theatrical types.  It’s been a pleasure working with you.  I’ll see you on the big screen someday.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Clappie examined her naked body in the full-length mirror, leaned in and peered at her face.  Damn it.  Look at those crow’s feet.  I really should quit smoking.  And my boobs seem to sag more every day.  My agent’s right.  I’m going to have to make an appointment with a plastic surgeon if I want to keep working.  That sucks.  I’ll bet Bette Davis never had to get a boob job.

She pulled on the robe provided by the luxury hotel, walked back into the room and picked up the script she’d tossed on the bed.  She had time to memorize a few more lines before the driver would arrive to pick her up for the premiere.

She propped four pillows up against the headboard and got comfortable.  She grabbed the pack of smokes sitting on the bedside table, lit one and took a satisfying drag.  Opening the script to a page marked with a post-it, she began to read the words out loud, but after a few minutes her thoughts began to wander to the upcoming event.

The Halloween release of Global Swarming was being hailed as one of the few fall blockbusters.  She hated the hoopla associated with movie releases, but tonight would be special because her three co-stars – her family – would be joining her at the Halloween bash after the premiere.

She put the script down, lit another cigarette and thought about Jo Jo, Dusty and Hunter.  They’d all made it, just as Lore predicted.  None of them even had to struggle.  In the spring after they worked together as zombies at the haunted hayride, they collected their diplomas, marched off the stage and into successful film careers.  She often considered it downright spooky how easy it had been for them.  And now they’d made a zombie movie together.  “Life imitates art,” she mumbled, closing her eyes.

Clappie softly snored as the lit cigarette held between her fingers dropped onto the script on her lap.  A dirty brown circle began to form and within seconds flames engulfed the pages.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dusty loved being an actor, but hated the celebrity involved.  He never went anywhere without one of his many baseball caps and a pair of sunglasses.  He searched the backpack he’d carried onto the plane for the third time and once again failed to find his minimalist disguise.

This is crazy.  I was wearing them before I took a shower.  Could a housekeeper have come in and taken them? Great.  I won’t have time to replace them before the premiere. 

In the elevator Dusty stared at his shoes and tried to ignore the stage whispers of the other passengers.  The doors slid open and he held back to be the last to exit.  He couldn’t stand the thought of the others whispering behind him – wondering if it was really him.  If it weren’t for Jo Jo, Clappie and Hunter, he would have skipped the premiere and stayed on his ranch in Texas.

He gave the cab driver directions without making eye contact.  He noticed the man staring at him in the rearview mirror.  Dusty turned his head and looked out the window, hoping the man would take the hint.

“Excuse me.”

Please no.  I need to be left alone. 

“Aren’t you the guy who played Johnny Depp’s son in that movie…what was it called?”

Dusty sighed.  “Shutterbug.”

“Yeah!  That’s the one.  Man, you were great. You won an Academy Award, right?”

“No, I only got nominated.”

“Man, you got robbed!  What’s it like working with Johnny Depp?  My wife loves the guy.  Wait until she hears you’re my passenger.”

The cabbie pulled his cell phone out of his shirt pocket and began entering a text message.

“Dude!  Don’t do that while you’re driving.”

“It’s cool.  I do it all the time.”  The cabbie turned and looked back over his shoulder.

“I’m serious.  Put the phone…watch out!”

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Naked, Jo Jo dove into the pool and swam underwater to the shallow end.  She burst out of the water, still as lovely as a Greek goddess thanks to studio money and plastic surgery.  With her arms balanced on the edge of the pool, she treaded water and gazed into the woods which bordered her property.  She closed her eyes and thought about the upcoming premiere.

They’ll be shocked when I show up wearing the Vera Wang zombie wedding dress.  Screw the majority vote.  This is Halloween.  We’re supposed to dress up.  I suppose Clappie will give me shit, but after all these years I can take it.  This is going to be fun!

She opened her eyes and screamed.  An enormous man stood above her.  In her vulnerable position he seemed to be ten feet tall.  He wore black pants and a gray silk shirt.  His slicked back dark hair glistened with gel.

Mindful of her nudity, Jo Jo quit treading water and placed the balls of her feet firmly on the side of the pool.

Maybe he can’t swim.  If I have to, I can stay in the middle of the pool.

Trying to sound authoritative she said, “Get off my property!  I’m calling the police right now.”

The man slowly brought his right hand from behind his back.  In it he held what looked like a machete.  “Diablo,” he whispered.

Jo Jo didn’t wait around for further introductions.  She bent her knees, shoved off from the side of the pool and twisted her body to be face down in the water.

I can get away.  I have to.

Her head snapped back out of the water, her hair tangled between his massive fingers.

This time I don’t think my father is going to open the door and save me.  This time...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hunter opened the door and a dark haired young woman with a bruise on her face stood behind the rolling cart.

“Room service.”

“Thanks.  Please put it over there on that table.”

She looked around the room in confusion.  It finally dawned on Hunter she wasn’t wearing a hotel uniform.  He sighed.

“You don’t work here, do you?”

“No, but I…”

He held up a hand and said, “Please don’t say anything else.  Just leave.”

“But I need to tell you…”

“No you don’t.  You don’t need to tell me anything.  This kind of thing has happened before.  I want you out of my room and if you don’t go right now I’ll call hotel security  It’s their policy to arrest trespassers.”

"Cops,” she sneered.  “Cops are good for nothing.  Did they help me with this?”  She pointed at the bruise on her face.  “Or this?”

She ripped open her blouse with such violence one of the buttons flew right at Hunter.  He reflexively ducked.

Aww, shit.  Here we go.  I can see the tabloids tomorrow.  I’ll be accused of raping this bitch and she’ll only back down when the payoff is at six figures.

“You’re not paying attention to me!” she screamed.  “I love you and you didn’t do anything to stop him!”

Hunter looked in horror at the woman’s breasts.  Not only were they mottled with fist-sized patches of purple and yellow, he could see open wounds and scabs which could only have come from the embers of a lit cigarette.  His stomach churned and bile began to rise in his throat.

“Listen, lady.  I don’t know what you’re talking about, but let me get you some help.  I’m going to call the front desk and ask them to send up a medic for you.”

“Stop!”  She leaned over and fumbled underneath the white tablecloth on the rolling cart.

I wonder how she got that cart?  Where's the real server?

She straightened up and pointed a gun at him.  “Suicide pacts are romantic, don’t you think?  I love you.”

Love will fucking kill you.  Where did I hear that?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

“…and Officer Brady told me there were no signs of foul play at all.  Those students up at the university looked like they died in their sleep.  Brady’s a regular here, just like Arnie over there.  Right Arnie?” she asked the man wearing a grubby shirt with a patch above the pocket identifying him as Arnold.

“Right as rain, Suzy Q.”   Arnie continued cramming fries into his mouth with one hand, while the other kept brushing away the dangling construction paper spider attached to a fake cobweb left over from Halloween.

“I’m telling ya, I never saw Brady shook up about anything, but he was shook up today.  I told him they should test those kids for drugs.  That’s what I think happened.  All the kids up at the university use drugs.  That’s a fact.”

Suzy poured the customer seated in front of her another cup of coffee as she wiped down the counter.  “It’s a shame though.  I heard all four of them planned on being actors.”  She shook her head.  “So sad.  The poor parents.”

Despite the melancholy pronouncement, the green-eyed man observed her face was flushed with excitement.  He raised the cup of steaming coffee to his lips.  As he gently blew to cool the molten liquid, the corner of his mouth twitched in what might have been a smile.


Kat Nove is the author or co-author of

    

You may visit her on her blog http://katnovian.com/

On Twitter at @katnove and @WaitingforKRove

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