Annie L: No Annie At All

(Chronological index: Denise in High School)

Denise had a wonderful time keeping Cliff Gillson at arm's length. Pet was a magic talisman for a teen virgin that wanted to stay that way.

She sipped her soda and watched the movie. Pet had a kernel of corn and sat on the dashboard. The sylph was wrapped up in the plot, but kept an ear out for Denny.

No boy could hear when Denise softly double-sniffed as a signal, but sylph hearing was phenomenal.

So any time Cliff started to scoot across the pickup truck's bench seat, or put his arm behind her, she called on Pet. Well trained and horribly loyal, the young creature instant pointed to the screen and asked, "What's that?"

This wasn't too far from her normal behavior anyway, so no one ever quite figured out what was going on.

It was enough to remind any boy that Pet was there, though. Which reminded them of the interview their dad always gave prospective dates.

"You're gonna wanna remember that Pet goes wherever Denny goes. And Pet knows whatever Denny knows. And Pet is physically incapable of keeping a secret."

"She's not," Buttercup would add from her perch on Dad's shoulder. "It's her single most redeeming feature."

"So whatever happens, son, between you and my daughter, Buttercup is going to hear about. And that means I'm going to hear about it, too.

"Now, if that means I have to sit through a two hour description of a one hour meal, I'm prepared to put that kind of time into protecting my daughter."

"He is," Buttercup confirmed. "I've seen it. It's not pretty."

And on and on and on. The weak ones were cut out from the herd early on. Dad was unapologetic. Carla had convinced her to take it as a compliment, though. For all the guys that staggered through their school, spreading tales of the two-scaled, two-headed, monotone Talk, there were still boys asking her out.

She had to admit that it was kind of cool. And she was actually on a second date with Cliff. Either she was pretty special, or there was a bet somewhere.

Either way, she got to see a movie in the drive in. She smiled down at her virginity advocate's little head. THEY got to see a movie.

And Cliff Gillson got to suck on his own soda waaaaaaaay over on the driver's side.

He'd picked American Werewolf in London to take her to. Obviously he'd thought that she'd be scared and looking for protection.

But taking care of Pet had skewed Denny's threshold of terror. Pet could be hurt from a tabletop fall. Going outside, Denise had to be aware of every crow and cat. And when she learned to drive, she kept her tiny companion's comfort in mind when she braked and accelerated.

Denise thought of herself as a protector. So when the werewolf Nazi's were shooting up the house, she was thinking of hiding places for her sylph. Not screaming into Cliff's shoulder, the poor miserable bastard.

For her part, Pet was afraid of rats, cats, vacuum cleaners and the monstrous decorations Dad put out at Halloween. Anything that made his coworkers incontinent became a permanent part of the annual decorations.

The special effects in this film were not as immediate a threat as the Lawn Sprinkler of Rotating Death had been, or Paramedic Frankenstein's Beer Cooler.

She just giggled.

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When they got home, Dad and Buttercup were playing a game of cards. Mom was in the sewing room, from the sound of the loom shuttle clacking away.

Denise lowered her sylph to the table by the other one and poured herself an iced tea.

"So, how was the date?" Dad asked. Denise sipped her drink without answering. She didn't have to, he was asking Pet.

"Oh, there was a movie and a dinner and blood and a werewolf and another werewolf and a dead guy and some more dead guys and Penny and Anne were at the restaurant-"

"Restaurant?" Dad exclaimed. "Cliff can afford a restaurant?"

"Mickey D's," Denise explained.

"There were tables and we sat down and there was table service!" Pet insisted.

"The fries were going to take a while so they brought them out to our table."

"Ah. Okay, Pet," Chuck allowed, "tonight Cliff took my girls to a restaurant. What else?"

"There were NO food fights!" Pet insisted. "He was going to squirt ketchup at one of his jock friends and I just knew he'd shoot something back at our table and I was wearing my good t-shirt and I guess I still am wearing it so I shouldn't say was but it's white and I didn't want anyone smearing or shooting or squirting me with ketchup or mustard or special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles or onions so I screamed really loud, I went like this, 'EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-'"

Buttercup lunged forward to grab her young daughter in a tight hug, incidentally muffling the cry with her shoulder.

Mom ran out of the hall with the metal yardstick in a two-fisted grip. She found Chuck laughing down on Buttercup who looked to be consoling her daughter, and Denise looking guilty.

"What did you do to her now?"

"Nothing!" he protested. "My hand to God!"

She slapped the back of his head and sat down beside him. "Then what is going on, blasphemer?"

"Pet was telling us about her date."

"It was my date!" Denise protested.

Dad shrugged. "I'm asking Pet about her evening."

"You're asking my pet about my date!"

"It's just a coincidence," he said. "So, Pet, did Mr. Cliff try anything?"

"I don't know I was watching the movie but Denny gave her signal, the one you taught us, and I was usually pretty good about asking 'what is that?' and getting Denny to answer me."

"Pretty good?" he asked.

"Welllllll," she drawled. Buttercup lifted her chin up to look her in the eye.

"What did you do, Pet?"

"There's this one guy in the movie? And he reminded me of that kid from the other school? Preston? And I was just about to say that he reminded me of Preston-"

"Who's Preston?" Chuck asked.

"About six dates ago," Denise explained. "The guy that honked his horn for me to come out? So you got into the car with me and said if he was in such an all-damned hurry to go on the date you'd do the initial interview ON the date?"

"That was Preston?" Chuck asked, scratching his head. "Nice car. I don't remember- Oh! The guy that gets the hiccups under stress? What about him, Pet?"

"Um...I was just about to say 'he reminds me of Preston' when Denny did the double sniff thing and instead of asking, I blurted out 'he reminds me of Preston' because that was already on my tongue and I'm really sorry." She clasped her hands together and looked fearfully up at Dad.

Buttercup wrapped Pet back into a hug and glared up at Chuck, daring him to make her daughter feel bad.

Denise laughed and reached out to pat Pet's head. "It's okay, Dad, she made up for it."

"I did?"

"She did?"

"She did. Right after she mentioned Preston, the werewolf ate the guy." She started to laugh. "And without missing a beat, she said, 'And THAT reminds me your Dad WITH Preston!'"

The whole table laughed at that. Except Mom. Carla drifted into the room, laughing. She leaned down to offer her palm for a high five. Pet eased away from her mother to slap the giant girl's hand with both of hers.

"Honestly," Mom said. "You shouldn't encourage them to terrorize the boys."

"Boys are stupid," Carla said. She poured two teas and gave one to her mother. Denise dipped cups for the sylphs out of her drink.

"And you go right on thinking that," Dad ordered her.

"At this rate," Mom pointed out, "they're never going to get a third date."

"Fine by me," Dad insisted. "My girls can stay boy-free until they bury me, that'll be okay."

"We'll never have grandkids!"

"I don't want grandkids! Grandkids mean wandering outside the delivery room, knowing my little girls are in pain!"

"You didn't mind it happening to me!?!?" Mom said.

"You're my LADY!" he said. "These are my GIRLS!" He reached down to pat Buttercup on the shoulder. "Besides, after being a midwife to Buttercup, here, I'm just THROUGH with that sort of stress."

"It wasn't that bad," Buttercup said.

"It sure wasn't for him!" Mom added. "This bastard was on the PORCH!"

"But in spirit, I was right beside you, holding her little hand and mopping her little brow and-"

"What are you talking about?" Pet asked.

"The day you arrived, Pet," Denise said. She picked up her sylph to hold and pet her. "The wonderful day that you arrived."

"Oh. Was it fun?"

"I don't know. I was on the porch, watching Dad chain smoke half a carton."

"You SMOKE?" Pet screeched at Dad.

"Not anymore," he assured her. "I wouldn't expose someone as cute as you to cigarette smoke."

"Is it bad?" Pet asked.

"Time for bed!" Denise said, closing her fist around Pet and standing up.

"Wait," Dad said. It wasn't loud, but it wasn't the volume that mattered anyway. The tone pushed Denise back down in her chair. "Yes, Pet, smoke is bad for little sylphs. Do you know anyone that smokes?"

Pet looked from Dad's face to Denise's and back about ten times. Finally she said, "Nooooo?"

"There! See? Nothing to worry about," Denise said. "Time for tucking little girls and little-itty-bitty girls into bed. See ya!" She fled. Carla laughed and followed her down the hall.

Dad, Mom and Buttercup shared a look. "I'm on it," Buttercup said. Dad nodded.

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