The Firefly Field Theory

|10| The Art Of Bemoaning: Part I

PART I

Hot needles prick my palms and my heart jumps into my throat hence taking up the task of beating the hell out of itself. There’s a pounding in my head and a sand storm in my mouth. Right now, if I wasn’t busy playing the part of totally horrified, I’d definitely would’ve been embarrassed by the extremely girly nature of the shriek, my vocal chords chose to exhibit before the people of supermarket land.

I vaguely notice Z slink forward and Wall-e jump out of the car. They rush over to where I’m standing with a hand around my gaping mouth. All three of us stare at the gruesome view. The lifeless body is a girls’ which just pushes it up a notch on the ‘Screwed Up’ scale. I don’t know if this was intentional, but she’s lying dead inside the trunk with her legs stretching out straight and her arms crisscrossing over her chest. Her murderers probably had a really rotten sense of humor because she’s posed as the mummified Pharaohs of Egypt. Except the fact that one, this is no coffin and two, the Pharaohs had a lot of gold and stuff with them in their death chambers and the only thing in the trunk with the girl happens to be a tool box. The Pharaoh Girl happens to look like a cut out from a black and white movie. She’s wearing a black shirt and black skinnies and her skin is an extremely bleached shade of white. Which just conforms that she’s dead.

I’m still staring and freaking out, when the other two members of my explorer crew bursts into deafening laughter. This makes me jump again I stare at them completely dumbfounded. Now judging by their attitude after seeing some dead body lying in their trunk I can possibly retain my sanity by assuming one of two things. Either, it’s no freakin big deal. This happens to be one of those Pakistani norms. Or  they are the ones responsible for this.

“Sam! Oh my God!” Z croaks out as he continues struggling to get air into his lungs. Wall-e yelps in pain gripping his sides before bursting into another hooligan laugh he can barely contain.

“That’s Ritz.” Z says pointing at the dead body.

“What? Who?” I ask frantically.

His hands land on my shoulders pressing them firmly and he brings his face close to mine. His enormous grin is back and his eyes are brimming with tears. If that’s supposed to calm me down, it’s not working. I look around wildly and see multiple curious faces staring at me, they’re mostly the kids who didn’t head back after the concert and are still not heading back because who doesn’t like to witness a good panic attack in the morning.

“Ritz? Bravo’s friend! Om my Gosh she’s dead!” I screech.

“No, she’s not. Sam calm down.” Zs’ sentence ends in suppressed laughter. Who exactly is he trying to bring into control, me or him?

 “She’s fine Sam, for God’s sake, stop!” Z squeaks, his shoulders shaking up and down.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s alright, she’s asleep.”

“No she’s not she’s dead!”

“SHUT UP YOU BUFFOONS!” A third voice booms, quickly attracting the attention of the crowd.

Everybody freezes.

In the dead silence a crow contributes with a caw from God knows where.

Slowly, Z and I break eye contact, turning our heads away from each other to watch a teaser of ‘The Mummy Returns’. The presumably dead Ritz is sitting upright in the trunk angrily scowling at us. She doesn’t however, look any less dead than she had lying Pharaoh Style in the car coffin. Her face is inhumanely pale but the evidence that she doesn’t have Rigor Mortis somehow calms me down.