“Shouldn’t you have a cross or something?” Karen said.
“I’m not an exorcist, I’m a bartender.”
Bob then lit up the sage with his cigar and walked around the apartment blowing smoke as he went, Karen followed behind him closely, and she repeated every Catholic prayer that came out of Bob mouth, and when Bob finished all of them, Karen even started singing the 70’s tune Spirit in the Sky. Even when Karen forgot certain lyrics of the song, she'd hum and hurry to the part about "you got a friend in Jesus."
“Clever thinking, Hurricane,” said Bob impressed.
“Norman Greenbaum, one of my tribe,” said Karen with pride.
Bob made sure that he was getting the corners of the room.
“They like to hide there,” Bob said to Karen.
As Bob continued to sage away and soon, it was a smoke filled.
“Do you think it’s working,” Karen said? “We’ll see? I’m sure; it’s a good time though to slap on a pair of panties and some pants.”
Karen hurried in her smoky room and grabbed some clothes and quickly put them on.
Bob stood there and looked around the room. He didn’t mention to Karen, but he usually was able to feel when there was a presence… but this one was sneaky … so far he’s had a hard time getting a read on it… and that really bugged him.
“Okay, now do you remember buying anything old and creepy recently?”
Karen stood there with one hand on her hip, looking around the apartment, scanning for whatever it was or possibly might be?”
“Most of the stuff I remember buying are clothes… I’d don’t think I have a haunted cute blouse or a funky possessed hat?”
“Well, it’s gotta be something? Uh, creepy thong perhaps?”
"What? Like it would creep up my ass?"
"Well, that is the point of those... I guess? What else?"
"What? Like it would creep up my ass?"
"Well, that is the point of those... I guess? What else?"
“Okay, this started about three weeks ago…what yard sale was it?”
“How many yard sales do you hit?”
“Enough.. it’s one of my things.”
“Whatever you ever you can think of, just put it in a pile, and we’ll go from there.
Karen had been searching her apartment for an hour, when Bob cell phone rang.
It’s Mamma Basco,” Bob said answering his cell.
“Hi Mamma, your timing is perfecto.”
“Not really,” Karen said as Bob told her to shush!
Mamma Basco was back sitting at the counter at the Déjà Vu Bar and Restaurant drinking another Abita beer.
“What you find out about En Vogue, Bobby? Ah huh? Okay, you don’t forget now, here. You okay, baby? Did you do what Mamma said to do?”
Bob was looking at the pile of stuff that Karen had piled on her bed.
“Yeah, I saged the shit out of the place, but we had a little trouble before I got to it. It scratched a warning on Karen’s ass… Mamma that’s not funny….”
“She thinks it’s funny?!”
“Shush! It was a warning, it looks like big G O… Yeah, she’s okay… I think?”
Karen just turned and looked at Bob really annoyed, then continued looking.
“She’s actually pretty tough Mamma... you might like her?”
“I bet this is it!” Karen hurried over to Bob; she was holding an orange -ish colored frame, it looked kinda plastic… but not. It had an ornate flower design to it.
Bob took it and gave it a look over. A photo of Karen’s father was placed inside.
“Mamma could an old frame be possessed?”
Bob listened to Mamma on the other end.
“Karen where did you pick this up at?”
“I wanna say I grabbed that at a yard sale in East Hollywood , Los Feliz area, a couple months back. I actually forgot about it until a few weeks ago, when I cleaned it up and put my dad’s picture in it.”
Bob studied the picture of her dad; he wasn’t an attractive man he thought.
“You look like him.”
Bob’s remark confused Karen… she wondered what he meant by that?
Bob relayed what Karen said back to Mamma, and then listened to what she was telling him on the other end.
“Was there a picture in the frame when you bought it?”
“Actually there was… a creepy looking woman… ah shit… what did I do with it?”
Bob was already taking apart the frame to see if it was underneath Karen’s dad photo.
“Damn,” Bob said. There was no old picture, Mamma heard him.
“Oh, damn,” Mamma Basco said all the way from New Orleans
“Karen, where’s the picture that was in the frame?”
Karen was moving around her bedroom frantically.
“I don’t know off hand? I put it with some papers… they were around here somewhere? Shit!”
Bob was watching Karen and trying to talk to Mamma Basco at the same time.
“If she done threw dat picture away, you might have a whole other ball of wax to deal with Bobby. You sure you don’t want fly me out dare and help you all… Always wanted to see dat Pat Sajak, ” said Mamma Basco from 1,650 miles away.
“Bob, I think I might have thrown it out with some papers a few days a go… they should still be down in the dumpster,” Karen said.
“Mamma, call you back in a few. We gotta go dumpster diving,” Bob said hanging up.
Bob and Karen soon made their way down to the back carport, where the two apartment dumpsters resided.
“It’s in this one,” Karen said pointing to the one on the right.
“Are you sure?” Bob said as he heaved back the heavy black plastic dumpster lid.
“Yeah, I always put my stuff in that one… habit
A rank smell permeated the area.
“Pew,” Bob said. Karen pushed Bob aside.
“I’ll go in. I’ll recognize my trash bag.”
Bob was surprised how agile Karen was, as she climbed into the dumpster, “It looks like you’re an old hand at this?” Not bad for a thirty-five or so year old chick, he thought.
“Ha, ha, very funny… Pilatus ,” Karen said as she went over the side and disappeared in the darkness.”
As Bob listen to Karen root around in the dumpster, he saw the headlights of a car driving in. He was trying to figure out how to look nonchalant, standing by the open apartment trash dumpster. A blue with Ford Neon pulled in the only open spot, right next to the dumpster. A twenty- something Latino man stepped out of the car, his eyes watching Bob cautiously. He looked like, as his grandma used to say that he was from the old country a.k.a. Mexico … … but, truth be told he could have been from El Salvador or Ecuador
“Ola! How ya doin tonight?” Bob said.
Bob’s Spanish was spotty at best… he was a product of his times, even though he was of Mexican decent, he never picked it up as a kid… he just knew the cuss words.
Before the Latino man could acknowledge Bob, he jumped when he heard Karen moving around in the dumpster.
“It’s smells like shit in here! Gross!”
The Latino man looked over at Bob, whose hand was now resting on the corner of the dumpster, like he was kinda leaning on the corner of a fireplace, the only this missing from his pose was a pipe. Bob gave the man slight smile.
“We kinda threw something out by accident… do you know Karen, in apartment fourteen?”
Before the man could even think of responding, the dumpster lid slammed down hard! I just missed getting Bob’s four fingers. He and the Latino man jumped back. Bob immediately knew this was bad. Inside the dumpster Karen started screaming and cussing like a banshee. She sounded like she was fighting something; hard! You could hear everything in it being shoved around the metal container. Bob fought to open the lid, but it seemed to be locked down tight. The Latino man rushed over to lend Bob a hand. Bob finally managed to pry his fingers under the lid, and between him and the Latino man they were able to open dumpster lid. Inside, they both saw two sets of eyes… Karen’s and some others… that were reddish in color. Then Karen jumped out of the dumpster as if she was set afire, she practically jumped in Bob’s arms.
The Latino man’s eyes got buggy when he saw her; she had looked like she’d been back sparring again with Rhonda Wallace.
Then Karen let out a loud primal scream… just too clear hear lungs and vent her frustration and anger. Bob saw a few people peering out of their apartment windows.
“What the fuck happened? It fucking followed me!” Karen said crying.
Bob was wondering the same fucking thing? He thought the sage was gonna be a sure thing. Bob was giving Karen a quick naked eye examination; she had some redness on her face... like slap marks... he chose not to mention it to her then.
Bob was wondering the same fucking thing? He thought the sage was gonna be a sure thing. Bob was giving Karen a quick naked eye examination; she had some redness on her face... like slap marks... he chose not to mention it to her then.
Bob looked at Karen and then the Latino man… who didn’t know what the fuck was going on? Bob was trying to comfort Karen, but also felt he needed to give the Latino man some sort of explanation.
“La llorona,” Bob said, pointing in the dumpster. It seemed like the easiest way to describe what they were dealing with. Not taking a chance whether or not she was the actual scary ghostly Weeping Woman of Latin folklore. The Latino man made a sign of the cross and backed away in the direction of the apartment building… “Gracias,” Bob said, he was still trying to do his best to comfort Karen, who was still pretty shakin' up and going on adrenaline.
“Don’t ask me if I’m okay… okay?” Karen handed Bob a white plastic bag of papers.
“Tell your Mamma Tabasco
Then Karen just collapsed in Bob’s arms and broke down crying.
“I’m never gonna get rid of this thing am I, Bob?”
“Karen, you did great in that dumpster, I heard you kickin’ some ass! You took that thing on without any help…” He did not dare mention the other set of eyes that he saw in the dumpster with her.
“I was praying for Teddy Roosevelt… he didn’t come,” she said weeping.
“I’m so proud of you.” Bob said as he gently gave Karen butterfly kisses on her forehead.
“We gotta get out of here; you screamed pretty loud… someone might have called the cops?”
Karen was wiping the tears from her eyes.
“Who’s got the better ass, me or Harry Potter girl?”
Bob stopped the gentle butterfly kisses.
“Well, hers is… and yours is…”
Bob was trying to demonstrate with his hands, but wasn’t doing a good job of it.
“Oh, shut up, Bob… you just had to blow the moment,” she said.
“They both have there merits, Karen. We’re getting off track here; let’s just find the damn picture.”
Bob grabbed Karen by the hand and was trying to lead her away.
Bob grabbed Karen by the hand and was trying to lead her away.
“Should we even bother? This thing is just… I don’t know?”
“Never give up kid, you know that?”
“This, coming from the man who walked away from our marriage.”
“I hope you’re joking? You are joking Karen?”
“Maybe? I don’t know? I’m feeling very vulnerable at the moment,” Karen said flopping her arms up and down.
“I know that move.”
“What move?”
“The arms thing.”
Bob proceeded demonstrate for her, he looked like a spastic penguin. Karen was trying not to laugh.
“I saw it often during our twelve days as Mr. and Mrs.. it’s a cute move, I liked seeing it again after all these years,” Bob said.
The two sat in Bob’s car and looked through the bag of papers, until Karen found the old yellowing photo. “EEW!” She handed over for to Bob to see, he stared at the image frozen in time of a very stern looking lady in a black hat.
“She kinda reminds me of; remember Miss Hathaway from the Beverly
“I don’t want it! You hold on to it,” Karen said.
Bob flipped it over and examined it again; he noticed some faint writing on the back.
“What does this say? Miss Willa Reese… Santa Monica
“I don’t want know her name, Bob! I just want her out of my fucking apartment!” Karen said.
“Karen... I’m just trying to help you… remember baby? Let's go back to my apartment and I'll make you a cocktail that'll make you chill.”
Bob was serious, even started to think about what kinda alcohol he had at it place, to make good on his word.
"What if "it" follows us to your place," Karen said.
"Well, Willa Reese is just gonna have to make her own damn fucking drink," Bob said with a wink and a smile.
Bob was serious, even started to think about what kinda alcohol he had at it place, to make good on his word.
"What if "it" follows us to your place," Karen said.
"Well, Willa Reese is just gonna have to make her own damn fucking drink," Bob said with a wink and a smile.
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