The Marionette Man: Chapter 1

Authors Note: This is a story that got away from me, much like one of my previous stories, Stripes, this one exceeds the amount of words we had to write by hundreds. I got super excited about this, and this is actually only going to be Chapter One of a longer tale to come. It seems pretty light right now, but just like in everything I write, it will eventually become dark (or at least a little creepy). Strap yourself in because this one is going to have some plot twists.

The prompt for this story was “First and Last Famous Lines.” My first line is from Catcher in the Rye, and is underlined at the beginning of the chapter. My second line is underlined at the end of the chapter and it is from the 19^th century novel called Vanity Fair. A previous blog post of mine explains each line and the book they come from in more depth. As always I hope you enjoy my little tale and happy reading!

If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is were I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like getting into it, if you want to know the truth. No matter what I tell you, you are going to try and trace every recent event in my life right back to my childhood. So I'll save you the effort and tell you that yes, my bunk of a father and my hoochie mom are probably part of the reason why I am they way I am today, but don't go blaming all of this on them. Since they weren't around all that much anyway I doubt they can have a lot to do with all of this. No, most of it was probably me just being me. After all. I'm  the one who did it, aren't I?

A better place to start is when I turned 21, and was hired at Bongo's Pizza Buffet. Bongo's is one of those sticky kids places, y'know, with ball pits and arcade games, kinda like Chuck E. Cheese. Well I had just quit my buzz-kill job at Domino's a couple months prior, which had seemed like a good move at the time, but after about a month of being jobless, I realized that strumming by beat up guitar on the street corner of Fremont and Sunset wasn't gonna pay the bills. I turned in a few applications here and there, mainly record stores and a few shoe shops, never getting past the first interview. I eventually tried other food joints as a last resort. Bongo's was more of a joke than anything; a dare from my roommate Vince. Ended up being the right place since it was within walking distance, well, maybe not so much the right place now, but it sure seemed like it at the time. Dave sure seemed to agree; hired me after one measly interview, probably because the place was low on bodies and about to run outta business. What else can you expect from a crappy knock off of Chuck E, Cheese?

My prior experience with pizza landed me a job in the kitchen, which was good because I didn't want to be around all those snot-nosed brats, but as I said before we were short handed, so after I had been at Bongo's for about two or three weeks I had to take a floor shift here and there. Floor shifts were also known as "Watch". A watchman sorta just stands around and makes sure the kids don't sneeze into the buffet, or try to get on stage with the animatronics, or try to pull the puppets off of their strings, or wipe their boogers on the arcade games, or piss in the ball pit... yeah, you get the idea. It's pretty much just a glorified babysitter position. If you could even call it that.

The most annoying part about floor shift was probably the uniform. Back in the kitchen, we wore simple white t-shirts and hairnets. On floor we wore black pants and those awful violet shirts with off-grey sleeves. We had to tuck those puppies in too. Still, that wasn’t the worst of it. We had to wear these ball caps that matched the off-grey of our sleeves. The ball caps resembled Bongo’s likeness, with flappy elephant ears on both sides of it and an obnoxious trunk that hung off the bill of it. Boy, did Vince and the other guys give me hell about that one.

Aside from the elephant hats and the sticky surroundings, after two months or so at Bongo’s I realized that working there wasn’t all that bad. I got used to the kids – at least as much as someone who dislikes children can anyway – I even began to learn some of the regulars’ names. Believe it or not, my job had benefits to it (besides my $6.50 an hour hook up, which was tight). Working at a kids place, you meet a lot of chicks; chicks bringing younger siblings, co-worker chicks, hell, even a few of those teen mom chicks were pretty hot too. I managed to snag some digits here and there, went on a few dates. You’d be surprised how many girls like a guy with a mullet and chin scruff once he tells them that he works with children. I got in a few relationships; dated a cute blonde with a chubby nephew who frequented the joint. She was 19 and fine, but she wanted to get serious after a few months so I bailed. Dated a brunette not too long afterword. She was 20 years old and boy, did she like to party. She threw slammin ones at her dad’s house. She invited me over after I met her while working floor; she was dropping off her little sisters at the place. I knew her sisters well, they came in almost every weekend and spent over a hundred dead presidents on arcade tokens. Their father sure was swimming in it. That one was short lived as well. Turns out girls that like to party don’t stop liking it. It didn’t tear me up too bad when I found out that she had cheated, not like I liked her all that much anyway.

I had been at Bongo’s for almost eleven months when our puppet guy quit. Dave pulled me into his office and asked me if I would like the position, but I told him I would stick to kitchen and watch, that I wasn’t much of a puppeteer. Dave sighed and scratched his head, mumbling about how we really couldn’t afford to hire another person right now. He let me off the hook though, saying he’d ask around and see what he could find. Turns out a girl from the night crew took the position. Her name was Cali, I didn’t really know here much since she worked on the night cleaning shift and only worked hours after I had left, but Dave told me she was hired around the same time as I was. On her first day as puppeteer I was watchman. Dave told me to keep an eye on her; maybe strike up a conversation or two, so she feels welcomed by the day-shift crew. When I saw her walk in that Saturday morning, I knew that I would be doing a lot more than keeping an eye on her. Cali was one of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen. She was small, probably stood at 5’1 or so. Her dark hair, made a long ponytail which swung with pep back and forth with every step she took. She had stunningly green eyes and a smile like I had never seen.

She greeted me, before I even had the chance to make a move on her.  

“Hi!” She smiled. “I’m Cal. You must be Vlad, the watchman?”

I grabbed the bill of my hat and took the flappy thing off of my head, bending at the waist.

“The one and only,” I smirked, rising from my bow and placing the cap back on my head. Her red lips curled at the tips. “Cal huh? Short for Cali; I like it.”

Cal tucked a stray strand of hair that had escaped from her ponytail back behind her ear, “Actually, it’s really short for California.”

I raised an eyebrow chuckling, “California?”

“My father was a stupid hippy obsessed with the sunshine state,” before I could comment she went on, “It’s not a big deal but I’d just rather go by Cal than California, but for the love of all things on strings, please don’t refer to me as Cali ever again.”

I couldn’t help but let myself smile a little at her seemingly quirky personality, I found it endearing in a way, as if I hadn’t just met her a minute before.   

“My bad,” I smiled, shoving my hands into my pockets nonchalantly. She smiled back. I started to say something else, but before I could two boys ran in-between us towards the arcade games. The tall one pushed the chubbier one into Cal, making her stumble back a bit. The chubby kid looked up at Cal, his face beat-red and sweaty. His friend was already halfway to the ski ball machine.

“I’m sorry lady!” The chubster said, before trying to take off again. I stepped in front of him, cutting him off.

“Not so fast kid, go tell your buddy to come over here and talk to me.” The kid ran over to his friend. I looked over at Cal, who looked intrigued enough to see what I was going to do. I gave her a wink before turning to the little brat who had scampered up to me.

“What do you want?” he asked impatiently. I bent at the waist, my hands resting on my bent knees, to get on the little rugrat’s level. Up close I could smell anchovies on his breath and see all the sauce stains on his Raiders jersey.

“Listen here kid, see that guy over there behind the prize counter?” I pointed over to the pimply new kid Jeremy, who was struggling with the ticket counter. “He’s a friend of mine y’see.” A prompt lie. “If I ever see you running around in this joint or pushing someone else again, I’ll tell my friend over there that your tickets are no good. Got it?” The kid nodded, still fidgety, but now in a different way. “Good. Now tell this lovely lady that you are sorry for pushing your friend into her.” I looked up at Cal, who seemed to blink at the word "lovely".

“I’m sorry ma’am,” the little bundle of nerves spouted quietly before looking back at me.

“Alright, you can go play ski ball with your friend now, but walk, you hear me? And play nice.”

The kid nodded, walking back to his friend with his eyes on the ground. I straightened, crossing my arms over my chest before turning back to Cal.

“Wow, you sure showed him,” she quipped, smile playing on her lips. I stiffened. Realizing that telling off a little kid is probably not the smoothest move in the book.

“Ah, well y’know,” I shifted my hat, scratching the back of my head, feeling awkward. “Kids gotta be put in their place sometimes, especially around here.” I looked around the arcade area, lamely trying to avoid eye contact with Cal. I blew it, I thought to myself. There isn’t anything impressive about a guy who takes joy in telling off kids, and it’s too late to play the whole “I love children” routine now. Dammit. I was wallowing in my mistake when that angelic voice brought my thoughts to a screeching halt.  

“Damn skippy. I hate kids.” 

It felt like my jaw had hit the floor. Nothing sexy about a guy with his mouth all agape; I quickly tightened it back up, closing my lips into a smirk, “Honesty I’m not a huge fan of them either.”

“I couldn’t tell,” she laughed. I chuckled with her, there was a strange warm knot forming in the pit of my stomach. “Tell me then, Vlad,” she continued. “Why work at a place crawling with kids if you hate them?”

I scoffed, shoving my hands in my pockets again, “I could ask you the same thing, California.”

She twitched a bit at the name, but her playful smile only widened, “Well cleaning up at night didn’t involve children, just the aftermath of them. I could deal with that. The only reason I accepted this new position,” Cal turned toward the puppet booth, eyeing the lifeless marionettes that hung out of the reach of children. “…is the puppets themselves. Puppets have fascinated me since I was a child, marionettes especially.” She came to face me again, her long hair whisking by my face. Suddenly she was blushing, “That probably sounds really strange, I’m sorry.”

I couldn’t help but smile at how cute she looked with burning cheeks, “Nah, it’s cool. It didn’t sound strange at all. Everyone is passionate about one thing or another.”

Cal flashed me a happy grin, “That’s right!” Her smile softened. “And, what is your passion?”

I smirked, leaning in closer to her, like I was about to tell her some sort of secret, “My passion is playing guitar, but even more than that, it’s talking to beaut-” I was interrupted by a big fuzzy hand that landed on my shoulder, making me jump a bit. I could be wrong but I would have sworn I spotted Cal stifling a laugh at my scare.

“Well, well, well! Look who’s distracting the new crew, the one and only Vladimir Fishback!”

“Hey Derrell,” I sighed, I didn’t have to raise up Bongo’s big furry head to know who was wearing the suit. Derrell was our main mascot man, and probably the most annoying co-worker I have ever had to co-exist with.

“Hey little man! What’s shaking?” he patted my back, hard. I heaved a little, rolling my eyes. Since Derrell was about 6’4, he called anyone shorter than him a little man.

“Not much Big D.” I exhaled halfheartedly. I glanced over at Cal, only to find her turned away, trying not to laugh. “What?” I asked her.

“Your…” she stopped herself with a snort. “Your last name is Fishback?”

I could practically feel the color rising to my face. I furrowed my brow, “Unfortunately.”

Cal giggled looking out at the children, probably to keep from embarrassing me further. 

I turned to Derrell, his trunk almost whacking me in the face, “Shouldn’t you be giving sticky rugrats hugs or did you have something to tell me?”

“Oh yeah, right,” Derrell turned toward Cal, almost giving me a smack with his trunk again. “You’re the new puppet lady right?” Cal turned to him smiling, as if she was still holding back a laugh. /she nodded. “Cool, cool," Derrell went on. Shows got to start soon see, I’ll give you a few minutes to set up before I round up the kiddos for ya, kapeesh?” Cal seemed a little startled to be thrown into her puppeteering without a warning. She rubbed her hands on her black pants, as if her palms were sweaty.

“Alright,” she nodded. She then looked to me, “I’ll see you later then?”

I raised my eyebrows, then lowering them, I tried to be cool. “Oh, um yeah sure thing.” I gave her a lax half wave before stuffing my hands back in my pockets and leaning nonchalantly against the wall behind me. I then looked toward Derrell and watched her turn and make her way to the puppet booth from the corner of my eye. Maybe hard to get was the right way to go with this girl, or at least, slightly hard to get?

Derrell gave me another one of his signature, hard pats on the back, “Hey little man, I gotta dip.” Before he left, he leaned closer to me, shoving his big fuzzy ear against my face. “By the way, you gotta 39 over in the ball bit, might wanna go take a looksee before Bossman gets wind.” With another pat, Derrell was off towards the middle of the dining room, to make a big announcement to the kids in his annoying elephant voice. I went over towards the ball pit then, trying to catch the 39 Derrell mentioned.

At Bongo’s we had a code for certain issues that could happen with the kids. Everything from 30-45 evolved food. A 39 was when someone takes food out of the dining or buffet area and into another area. I skimmed the pit, looking for the little brat who was the culprit. My eyes landed on a few slices of pizza that had been tossed into the pit, and when I found the little devils who were guilty I cursed under my breath. In the middle of the colorful sea of plastic orbs sat the chubby kid and his pushy friend from earlier.

I dealt with the 39 accordingly, getting someone to help me rope off the ball pit and deal with the mess and whatnot. When the boy’s parents came to pick them up I had to tell them what happened, and why I took their tickets away and all that. The rest of my shift consisted of pulling brats off of the stage, cleaning tables here and there, and the usual child who falls trying to climb onto their table that I have to pretend to console until I drop them off at the prize counter and put them in Jeremy’s care. Every now and then I would glance over at Cal’s puppet shows. For someone who really didn’t like kids, she was a really fantastic puppeteer, at least from what I could tell. I guess she wasn’t kidding about it being a passion of hers.

My shift ended at 2:30 and boy, with the day I had had, I was more than ready to get out of the joint. I walked by the puppet booth on my way out, Cal was doing another show, this time with hand puppets. I watched as one by one the puppets jumped out of the booth, as if they were falling. She had a distinctly different voice for each puppet as they screamed and landed in the children’s laps. The kids were in stitches: I found myself chuckling as well. I couldn’t imagine those voices coming out of little Cal. That knot feeling in my stomach tightened up again as I watched the final puppet poke his head out at the audience. He had a bow-tie and a little top hat.  

“Come, children, let us shut up the box and the puppets, for our play is played out.”  The puppet then flung himself over the side too. Immediately the children, started to place the puppets neatly into the little pull-out drawer that presented itself at the bottom of the booth. I felt my jaw drop a little again while watching them. As soon as all the puppets were in, the children in the front row shut the drawer. Cal popped up from behind the curtain, and the children clapped and a few even whistled for her. I stood there in awe, clapping slowly. She waved at them, bidding them a goodbye. They waved back, and soon they were all on their feet, scattering about the place; some to their parents, others to the prize booth, and about a whole line of them scurried to the bathroom. Soon I stood alone, still clapping. Cal looked up at me, her face turning beat red, but she smiled playfully nonetheless.

“Hey there, Fishback.”

I smiled back, that warm loop jerking in my stomach like never before. In that moment I realized, I was staring at the girl that was going to be the beginning of the end of me.

And boy, was I right.