Sunday August 7, 2022 1:47 AM
"Classic Courtney. Gahghahahaha." My cousin Roy chuckles as they open our second bottle of citrus vodka for the night. We're hangover over heels into Roy's famous Mountain Dew and Vodka slushies, or as Courtney calls it, the Russian Slush. I can hear Roy mumbling something about Canada from the kitchen as Tiffany scuttles about. The norm.
Who is Tiffany? Well first, Roy is my roommate, my cousin, and my partner in crime. Growing up with my mad scientist aunt (or as Linda herself would say, bionuclear experimentalist), Roy gained ample knowledge of science and their pet goldfish Tiffany. Now why is this fish even relevant to our life? Tiffany has legs. It wears fishnets and stilettos, and it has gems for eyes. This plus Roy being easily mistaken for a teenager is the perfect distraction. All things considered, Roy doesn't act 20 either. They act no older than they look: about 17.
"Hit me up," I say. It's almost two a.m. and we've been Courtney's desk slaves (or as she would say, gal pal soldiers) for over two weeks now. It's like high school, but with significantly less murderous screams.
"Not till you dye your hair again! The pink is worn out and you look like shit," Roy runs out of the kitchen. "FLOOORAA!! Want to watch Dance Mo-" Roy blurts. Tiffany hops over and curls up in my lap defensively.
"Oh no dude. If I wanted to hear that bullshit I'd go to the YWCA." We haven't been there since middle school, and I will have to add that to the Murder Ring's people watching and possible murders bulletin.
They brush their forest green hair from their forehead. "Okay fine, let's talk," Roy says, and I gladly agree. They say baseball is America's pastime, and we say conversation is the Murder Ring's pastime. Roy's stories get much more intense than expected, with their weapon of choice being a god damn high-power Bedazzling gun. I suppose their weapon, and their kills, are at least as interesting as mine. People usually laugh as they die at the hands of Flora the Grungy Chocolate Milk Enthusiast.
"Okay man, how's the latest kill?" I ask to start off the conversation. Roy can get away with anything due to their innocent looks.
"Hella interesting dude. So like, this guy, was like, 16 maybe? And this sly little european sophomore was a German spy for Canada. So I BE-DAZZLERDID that sign thing, you know the one?" they mumbled.
"I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about."
"The sign thing, like the Canada weed? And he started crying about his pet flamango," Roy pseudo-clarified. "So I like, BE-ZAZZLED 'Kill All Flamangomen' on his leg butt part, and then I shot him with a glitter bullet. He looked like he died on the way to the disco."
"Roy. That is the best story I have EVER heard," I scream with full, intoxicated honesty. "If it makes sense next time you tell it."
"SHHHHH. ONLY DREAMS NOW," they reply, carefully getting up to deliver Courtney another Smiley Meal.
Dammit Roygie.
As soon as Roy closes the door, I hear someone else enter the room. I almost didn't expect it, but I know the young conman too well.
"Hey Kirby," a small, joyful voice peeps as the shaggy boy rolls out of the closet.
I turn around, rolling my eyes and smiling at my little brother.
"Hey Bambi."
YOU ARE READING
The Hellson Diaries
Mystery / Thriller"Roy, I asked you to stop bedazzling devil's traps on our ceilings!" Roy and Flora Hellson work for Chicago's greatest murder ring, the Murder Ring. Flora's day to day accounts of their dangerous lives feature a fish with legs, a lifetime supply of...
