“I know we promised no more stops until we reach the pizza place, but can we please stop?” I pleaded. “Because, we all smell rank.”
“Nope,” said Tum-tum, showing uncharacteristic stubborness. “A promise is a promise.”
“O, come on, Tum-tum, do we really want to be those people at the pizza place?” I said, adding special emphasis with the hope that at least Thoreau or Boufanti would have some shred of insecurity.
“What people?” Tum-Tum asked innocently.
“You know,” I said, “Those people.”
“As a matter of fact, I don’t know understand what you’re saying either,” Boufanti said smugly. What does he have to be smug about?
“Yeah,” Tum-tum said, “Epi, who do you mean?”
I rolled my eyes, “You know the people that walk into a place and immediately everyone labels them ‘the stinky people.’”
“I don’t know anyone that does that,” Tum-tum said. His innocence was really starting to be inconvenient!
“Yeah,” Boufanti said, “Who does that?”
“Well…you know…” I stammered. I can’t believe this conversation is making me look like a snob instead of as someone who cares about hygiene.
“Beware of all enterprises that require a new set of clothes.” Thoreau said in true Thoreau-ian fashion.
“Not you too, Thoreau,” I groaned.
“Seriously, Epi, don’t worry about it. It’s nearing midnight, I doubt we are the weirdest or stinkiest people going into that restaruant,” Boufanti said patting my shoulder. Again he smirked, smugly. Yeah, he is a smuggly smirker!
“Please, you all are guys so it doesn’t bother you to be gross. But, I am a girl so i care about things like hygiene.” I said, and the moment the words out of my mouth i realized that had Boufanti said them, i would have thrown a fit.
“That’s a sexist comment if i ever heard one,” Boufanti said.
“I didn’t mean it like that. What I meant was that i don’t like being muddy and gross.” I replied. Which is a total lie. I could care less about dirt and mud, but i didn’t want to be stinky in front of Boufanti.
“If i had said something like that you would have called me a snob,” Boufanti said calmly.
“I’m sorry, okay?”
“To tell you the truth, I’m just hungry, Epi,” Tum-tum said slowly. It was a miracle! Tum-tum had finally tapped his energy and was slowing down.
“Well, I am not going into anyplace smelling like a cow’s urinal” I said adamantly.
“Cow’s have urinals” Tum-tum asked in awe.
I rolled my eyes. Boufanti said, “Do you really mind it or is this just because social decorum require people to be suitably perfumed?”
“Are you saying that I want to be clean because everyone else wants me to be clean?” I asked pointedly.
“Yeah,” Boufanti said.
“Ah, we don’t care if you smell, Epi,” Tum-tum said supportively.
“I mind if i smell, ” I said
“Why” Boufanti asked
“Because it is disgusting. How are we going to be able to eat when i smell like an outhouse?”
“We all smell like outhouses,” Boufanti said.
Thoreau made a noise that sounded like an agreement and i looked to Boufanti. He shrugged.
“Let’s buck social decorum, protest to the world at large.” He said conspiratorially. “Let’s say “YES, WE SMELL. AND BY GOD WE’RE HUNGRY”
“YEAH!” Tum-tum cheered and pumped a chubby fist into the air, and eventually hitting the ceiling in my Aspire.
”Fine, let’s go get something to eat while we’re figuring this map out.” I relented. What the hey? This could be fun!
Now, to describe the Tikki Tokki Pizza Shoppie is possible. The problem is that unless you’ve been there you don’t really believe that a place like that exists. You’ve heard of Pizza Hut? Well, this pizzaria is literally a hut. It has this island motiff, but not that cool “50 First Dates” island motiff. It’s more like someone bought a surplus of plasic hawai’ian decorations and then realized how gaudy they were and sold them to the owners of this place cheap. All the workers wear these kahuna headdressses, guy or girl, although come to think of it-i’ve never actually seen a female employee. Anyway, so the outside is shaped like a hut, but the inside looks like it was supposed to be an office builiding. This place is pretty much the hang out for people who eat cannubis brownies or are lost tourists. inside is an old disco ball I am sure they bought from an old discoteque, and other random things that have been there probably since Mick Jagger was named sex in spandex.
I pulled into a parking spot with a spray painted pineapple on the asphalt, and looked at the other stalls. They each had some island icon sprayed on them and i took special note of an Easter Island head. Someone had a lot of time on their hands.
“Look we’re on a spot with a pineapple on it!” Tum-tum shouted from the backseat. Nothing got past him, I thought sarcastically. We all got out and i saw a group of guys huddled around a picnic table. Boufanti and i watched Tum-tum as he made a mad dash across the parking lot and to the front door, Thoreau was more dignified and sped walked.
“Go fish,” I heard one of the guys at the picnic table say as we passed by. What are the odds? Whatever, I don’t think anything will ever shock me again after tonight.
“You both got the jhu-jhu to make pizza,” a scantily clad…is it un-p.c. to say savage? popped up suddenly in front of Boufanti and I. I take back the comment from the parking lot, there are some things that can still shock me. He was wearing a loin cloth, a huge head dress that reminded me of Captain Jack Sparrow (Man, is Johnny Depp hot!), and held a staff in his hand. Altogether he probably stood only about five feet three inches high.
“Excuse me?” Boufanti asked.
“Yous two got the spark that make the fire pizza,” He said. Boufanti looked at me quizzically, and it was my turn to shrug.
“Only once in a lifetime do two mortals got the fire. Immortal forever be, from two mortals spring.” He said and raised his staff in over his head. Okay, i thought, time to go.
“Fire pizza?” Tum-Tum asked curiously, joining us, “What does that taste like? Is it good?”
“It be the best pizza made by the hands of the gods. Many search across the planes for what you” he said taking his eyes from Tum-tum and pointing to each Boufanti and I, ” got day-to-day.”
“Can I get anchovies with that?” I asked disinterested. Boufanti elbowed me.
“No, anchovies, dumb girl, ” he said knocking me on the head with his staff, “Bettah than the fish. Bettah than the fruit. This you taste but no eat, this you smell but cand touch, and this you can feel without see. But, you got to protect this fire pizza, it can get eaten up.”
“Wait,” i reasoned to the insane man, “If you can taste but not eat how can it get eaten up? Doesn’t that mean i can eat this fire pizza?”
“There are things that eat that don’t draw breath.” He said enigmatically. Then, just like that, he exhaled and disappeared through the door leading to the kitchen.
“What was that all about?” I asked looking to Boufanti, who looked like he was pondering. You know when someone looks like they are pondering? They look different than when they are dividing 8374 by 7. I don’t know, you can just tell they are thinking something about something more important. And suddenly, I felt like i missed something.
We found a booth that was, big surprise, a pineapple yellow and slid in. Thoreau joined us, “I ordered some Cheezey Chopper Pepperoni Poppers and a large Rigatoni Zamboni Surprise pizza.”
“What the heck is that?” Tum-tum asked. Thoreau shrugged and we settled into that comfortable silence. I felt my eyes start to droop and my head sway, i was tired. Really tired. That’s last thing i remember.
When i woke up i was wrapped in Boufanti’s teal peacoat, that he had thankfully left in the car during the bovine tipping, and was leaning against his shoulder. He had an arm around me and another reaching for a Cheezey Chopper Pepperoni Popper. I sat up, “Uh, sorry.” I said, sounding groggy even to myself.
“You fell asleep,” Tum-tum said cheerfully, apparently food re-energizes Tum-Tums.
“How long?” I asked. I felt refreshed despite how i sounded.
“Not long, only like 30 minutes,” Boufanti said popping a popper into his mouth. “Dig in, the pizza will be here any minute.”
Thoreau smiled at me from across the booth, and he nudged a bread plate over. I stretched and felt some kinks in my back work themselves out. The Rigatoni whatever-the-bucket-pizza arrived, and my stomach finally woke up. The waiter left and I realized that I hadn’t ordered a drink.
“Excuse me, but i didn’t order a drink,” I waved, but the waiter kept going. I guess he didn’t hear me.
“We can share mine,” Boufanti said and put another straw into his Dr. Pepper. Maybe because i was tired, maybe because he wore a Boufant, or maybe i was eating whatever the heck a fire pizza was, but it was in that moment that i realized that i didn’t care if tonight didn’t last. Boufanti’s Ricky Martin mole, and Robert Pattinsonesque physique, all that really didn’t matter anymore. Sharing a soda with someone that cared, surrounded by my friends, was all i needed. It’s funny how something so small can really help you define who you want to be and the life you want to live.
My reverie and philosphic reflection was cut short by a shout, “Leonard!” We turned to see the savage from earlier, whose name was Leonard (go figure) up on the counter barefoot. He grabbed the microphone, that i assume is used to announce orders, and bent it’s silvery neck towards an old style turntable. The empolyees were desperately trying to stop him but, to no avail. Then, the musical stylings of Bob Seger’s “Old Time Rock’N'Roll” livened up the speakers. I started laughing and Leonard hopped off the counter to race over to some tourists, from only God knows where, and encouraged them, “Dance!” The overweight woman wearing a fanny-pack looked hesitantly at her husband, who shrugged, and they got up and danced. Slowly, all the customers began to clap. Leonard went from table to table and encouraged everyone to dance.
Tum-tum, however, didn’t need any encouraging and jumped up to dance. Thoreau stood up and began to move in ways I didn’t know bodies could move. He was liquid-human and soon a circle gathered around him. Boufanti got up and offered his hand. I wasn’t sure, I mean i wanted to, but what if he was only being nice? I shook my head no and he rolled his eyes, “Come on, Eliphant,” and grabbed me while I laughed.
I don’t know if Boufanti is a good dancer, I don’t know that Tum-tum isn’t, and I don’t care. Everyone was just dancing and moving, when the steps don’t matter. The old disco ball was being used again, much to everyone’s delight, and Leonard was the funkiest most unexpected D.J. in the world. The group of guys playing go-fish had come in and were doing the mash potatoe-miracles never cease-and even the shamed employees bobbed their heads to the music.
The song eventually ended, and Leonard put on the BeeGee’s “How Deep is Your Love?”. The tourist couple stayed out and swayed in each others arms, and a few couples littered the floor. I was prepared to go back to our booth, but Boufanti held my hand. I turned to see him ask, “Please?” My insides wanted nothing more than to stay with Boufanti, but reality was penetrating the fog this night had created. What about tomorrow? Who was Boufanti and what were we doing, really? Tomorrow I would be Megabookstore girl again, and he would be the boufant that walked into the store to turn Karen Kingsbury books around. I only had a few seconds to decide. There were no guarantees that this wasn’t a game to Boufanti, and in all likelihood it probably was only a game to him. Find a map, go on a hunt, live an adventure before college. That was a kind of bravery, wasn’t it? To try something new when you have spent most of your life doing things one way? The true question is, was i brave? Could i realize the adventure for myself?
“Okay,” I said slowly and walked with him back towards the salad bar.
Boufanti wrapped his arms around me and i leaned in close, watching the moving white dots the disco ball created against the walls. I always thought that if this moment came for me, you know the moments all girls think about? You don’t? I’ll tell you. Girls think about what will they do when the boy they totally have a crush on, whether they want to crush out or not, is in close proximity to them. I always thought that my heart would pound so loud that he would be able to hear it, or feel the pulse in my wrist as it explodes against my skin. But, i didn’t feel any of that. I felt peaceful, relaxed. It was like a pillowy cloud had settled around me and i could breathe for the first time in my life. I mean I did feel excitement, but i didn’t feel the nervousness that i thought came with the territory. That excitement was like when you’re looking at a house or apartment and, there’s that moment when you take your first step into the perfect place. You know you’re home. You see lazy saturday mornings where you both decide to take off your shoes and run barefoot in the park, and see days like graduation where you slave over invitations, what you’ll wear underneath your robe, and realize that all those details only matter because he’ll be there. Chekhov once wrote that finding the other peice to your heart felt like a breeze blowing across your soul. Maybe he’s right.
“You stink,” Buofanti whispered in my ear. Well, so much for that.
“Nice,” I said sharply, “I wanted to stop and get changed-”
“Let me finish,” Boufanti interupted me. I could feel emarassed steam shooting out of my ears. “You stink, but I like your kind of stink.”
How a Ricky Martin-Robert Pattinson-peacoat wearing-hottie can be so handsome and so bad with words is beyond me. But, you gotta hand it to him. He does have a sweet heart. I felt myself blush and mumbled a “thanks.”
“I wanna tell you something,” He said more uncertain of himself, “But, you aren’t going to like it.”
“What is it?” I asked. Here it comes, here is the moment where he tells me he’s into guys or already has a girlfriend or is part of a religion that requires we marry tomorrow and i have to bear him atleast 6.5 kids while wearing a papier mache`hat shaped like a hand. Or he is a secret agent for Canada, and they’ve finally had enough and want to take over America and after spending most of the night with me and the Megabookstore guys he is convinced we can be kept as pets. He’s a junky and was high the entire night and is sobering up and wondering where the heck he is or-
I never did find out what Boufanti wanted to say. We were interupted by Tum-tum who jabbed a chubby finger towards the parking lot where the Farmer was fastly approaching, and in his hand was a copy of our map. I looked for Thoreau to find him leaving a tip on the table at our booth. Boufanti grabbed my hand and we headed for the back door. Leonard stopped us, “No leave now, you only just begun.”
“While we appreciate your use of old song lyrics, we really have to go,” I said, glancing the farmer coming the other door.
“Uncle Leonard,” A middle-aged man said, coming from the kitchen. “Let these nice kids go.”
“Can we go into the kitchen?” Tum-tum asked, “I’ve never seen the inside of a pizza kitchen before.”
The Farmer caught sight of us, and i desperately tried to shove everyone into the kitchen. Surprisingly, it worked. I think it’s mostly because i caught them by surprise instead not because of any strength i exhibited. Once inside the kitchen, I peeked out of the circular window on the kitchen door, the Farmer had been roped into a conversation with the tourist couple that had waltzed over.
“Now what?” Boufanti asked
