4
“Why thank you, Les. Just for that, I’ll read you another one."
Lester clapped his hands together. “Oh, thank you Har. Thank you."
“This one was our masterpiece, my brother in arms," said Harlan.
“A big yessss pleeeze," implored Lester, who looked much like an excited scarecrow.
“That’s right, Les. The glorious Dan Hingle curse. If it were not for the fact that he’s an uppity rich white guy, I’d almost take pity on him. But, damn, that 15,000 square foot house he lives in. What an asshole. His letter begs us to take back the rock he stole because he now believes in Pele’s curse. He writes that he now believes in the Curse because he lost his wife. Plus, he lost his job. He lost his house. He lost his savings, the contents of which are now in our considerably growing offshore account, I might add. Holy Crap. Thanks to us, he lost everything. C’est la vie, Bastard!"
“That one was so great," added Lester, “because you hacked into Dan’s social media accounts, spliced and diced his video library, and crafted a HoloVid of Dan having sex with his boss’ wife."
“Every detail was authentic," added Harlan, “from Dan ripping the wife’s clothes off, to him pumping her like she was some old time gas station. We even programmed her to moan. ‘I want your hard throbbing member thrust inside me,'" said Harlan, laughing so hard, he spewed a long spray of mushy Bugle pieces into the air.
Lester wiped away some of the squishy Bugle off his face. “Yeah. It was so awesome. Dan was up for a huge promotion, but when the HoloVid was exhibited at the morning staff meeting, instead of the Sale’s Projection Figures, Dan was escorted off the premises by security."
They began laughing simultaneously, slapping each other’s backs, then leaning over as if they were about to vomit. In the middle of their laughing fit, they hardly heard the soft knock on the door.
When they finally did, Harlan ordered Lester to open it.
“Who could be here now?" asked Lester. “The Park closed an hour ago. It’ll be pitch dark soon."
“Well, I guess we’ll never know unless you open the damn door, Lester," growled Harlan.
As the door opened, in the waning light of sunset, a slender form was highlighted. Both Harlan and Lester’s jaws dropped open. There stood a young woman, with black hair extending past her waist, wearing a coral dress imprinted with Plumeria flowers. Her bare feet were covered in blood.
“Sweet Fancy Moses," said Harlan. “Help her in, Lester, don’t just stand there."
Lester carefully guided the young woman into the Visitor’s Station. He grabbed a chair and helped her sit down.
“Who goes without shoes in a lava field," said Harlan. “Good night Irene. Now I’ve seen everything. Your feet are absolutely ripped to shreds."
“What’s… your… name…? Miss?" asked Lester in a slow voice.
“Leilani."
“Well, Leilani,” said Harlan, “where are your shoes?"
