Saturday's Storyteller: "Bacon gravy is a hell of a drug."

by Belinda Roddie

"Bacon gravy is a hell of a drug."

"Isn't it?" Leslie sighed, rolling on her side on the couch while massaging her swollen belly. Wally could still see flecks of grease glistening on the corners of her mouth. "But no overdose. It's a win-win."

It had been twenty minutes since Robbie, Bert, and Tara had gone home after the quintet's morning-drunken breakfast. Never had biscuits and country fried chicken tasted so good with whiskey, pilfered from Leslie's father's pantry. Nor had pancake mix seemed so difficult to work with - that plan had flown out the window after having to whip out the vacuum. Still, the day had been successful thus far, and now all that was left for Leslie and Wally to do was force their bloated bodies off the cushions and go for a motorcycle ride on the backroads of town.

"We ought to stop by the drugstore," Leslie told Wally as she settled herself on her brand new Harley, streaks of flame decal staining the sides. She had noticeably sobered up since breakfast, while Wally had only had a nip of bourbon, not much else.

"Why?" asked Wally, wrinkling his nose. "To see Jacob?"

"Jessica, you good-for-nothing overweight prick." Leslie spat out into the grass beside her before revving up her ride. "And before you say anything, yes, I'm good-for-nothing and overweight, too. But I'm not a prick."

Wally rolled his eyes. He was still getting used to Jessica's transition. The two of them had actually been very close in high school, shooting BB guns at unruly Texan neighbors and slipping into the cafeteria using the door with the broken lock to drink beer while it was dark and no one was looking. If worst came to worst, he would call her Anders. That way, he wouldn't slip and cause a nasty faux pas. Regardless of any ideologies he had been forcefed as a child, he was better than that.

The two twenty-year-olds roared in synchronization along the road on their motorcycles, picking up speed just in time to pass the small sheriff's office in blurs before any of the cops could notice. They did wind up stopping by the drugstore, if only for Leslie to buy more gum to mask the smell of alcohol on her breath. Wally walked in with her with his hands in his pockets, gazing intently at Jessica as the two gals made small talk as good old Schmidt limped around and shoved a handful of pills into his mouth.

"You remember Walter Rimes, right, Jess?" asked Leslie, gesturing toward her friend in a leather jacket as tattered as hers was. "From high school."

"How could I forget?" Jessica smiled, the pink lipstick she had boldly put on slightly cracking as she waved. "How's it going, Rimey?"

"Going good, Anders," replied Wally, watching as his friend turned to the register and counted loose change with manicured fingers and painted nails. He felt weird about it initially, but he was actually very attracted to Jessica.

"She's eleven months in transition now, and it's showing," Leslie remarked as they got back onto their motorcycles and snapped on their helmets. "She looks great. Happy, too. You noticed?"

"Yeah," murmured Wally. He felt his face go a little red.

Leslie grinned. "Hey," she said. "Just remember that Jessica was always a lady but just didn't get the right body at first. Had to modify what the good lord Jesus gave her. Am I right?" And with a growl of the engine, she ripped across the worn down, graying asphalt, daring Wally to follow her.

They stopped by the abandoned Baptist church and found the hidden cooler that Bert had left behind the night before, and they found beer cans that were still frosty and stuffed them into their boots and pockets to have later. Of course, this meant the booze got very warm by the time they got back to Wally's tiny house on the side of his parents' residence, and they had to shove the cans into the freezer to make the stuff drinkable. Wally plopped down on the fat, aging easy chair in front of his TV and dropped his motorcycle helmet unceremoniously at his side, the visor clacking loudly against the hardwood floor.

"So this is the way your day goes, eh, big boy?" asked Leslie as Wally found a marathon of Jeopardy! on his television.

Wally cracked a dry smile and quoted one of the books of poetry on his crumbling shelves. "This is the way the world ends."

"Not tonight, though, eh?"

"Nope." Wally stretched his arms out. "Tonight, I'm going to try to get the guts to ask out Jessica."

***

"Are you crazy?"

But Jessica was smiling from the counter, even though Wally knew she was trying to hide it. He let his eyes fall on how quickly she scanned his cans of chili and spaghetti-os, her long fingers feverishly trying to sort the cylinders into appropriate plastic bags.

"Look," he said, "all I'm saying is that you and me, we grab dinner. Watch a movie or something. The new superhero flick is good. You still like superheroes, right?"

"Course I do, Rimey. My personality isn't changing with my body," snapped Jessica, sighing and taking a moment to brush the bangs from her eyes. "But I mean...I don't know, don't you feel weird about it?"

"No," Wally abruptly answered, and in one moment, he realized he was telling the truth.

"You and I used to be buddies, dude," Jessica giggled. "Bros. Homies. We blew airhorns during study hour and threw plastic sporks at the track and field girls during our free class period."

"I know."

"And now you want to ask me out?" She stopped bagging, propped her elbows on the now immobile conveyor belt, and gave Wally a coy glance. "What makes you even think I like guys?"

Wally raised an eyebrow. He hadn't thought of that. The two of them had always whistled at girls and even tried to lift up cheerleaders' skirts at points. They had gotten suspended for sneaking a cellphone up the loose hem of their classmates Lisa's shorts, just in time for their history teacher to notice and get them suspended for three days. And for those three days, they hid out at the condemned Old South Saloon, trying to convince passerby to give them quarters so they could go to the arcade and blow all the coins on skeet and air hockey. But yes, that entire time, not once had Jessica mentioned liking boys. Maybe he was just being stupid, and he shrugged.

"I guess I thought, 'Girls like boys,'" he admitted. "It's dumb and assuming. Sorry."

"Heteronormative, yes," snickered Jessica. "That's a big word for ya."

"Fuck you. I get it."

"If it makes you feel better, I like girls and boys," she announced, holding out a hand for the seventeen dollars Wally owed. "And if it makes you feel better, sure. Let's watch a movie."

"For real?"

"For real." For a second, Wally thought he saw a twinkle in Jessica's eye. Brown eyes, as always. "As long as you're not freaked out about it."

"I'm not."

"Good." She took the twenty dollar bill from Wally and handed him back three dollars. "I'm free Friday night. My shift ends at five."

"Sounds like a plan." As he took his change, Wally felt heat suddenly rise in both his cheeks and chest. He focused hard on Jessica's face, examining her long hair and high cheekbones. "Though I do have to ask, Anders - do we pay like law-abiding citizens, or do we sneak in with Jack like old times?"

This week's prompt was provided by Daniel Bulone.