Page 40 of Resting Grump Face
When we turn a corner, it’s like we’re walking from a park into a zoo… for humans in costumes. A monkey is walking alongside a banana, a dog is fleeing from a cat, a Minotaur is holdinghandshooves with a surprisingly sexy cow, and all of them have their grabbers and bags and are picking up all the litter they can find on the way.
“I still don’t understand what’s happening here,” I say at one of the most bizarre sights I’ve ever seen. “Why are you dressed like Prince, and why is that quarterback throwing empty plastic bottles instead of a football?”
Ryker holds the bag open once more and waits for me to discard of an old magazine that’s stuck in some bushes. “First of all, I am not dressed like Prince, I am dressed likeaprince. You know, generic fairytale royalty. And secondly, we call ourselves The Litterati. As in Litter and Illuminati. Each week, we meet at some other place in the city, dressed up however we want, and pick up as much trash as we can without anyone knowing who we actually are.”
Once again, I find myself dumbfounded. This is not what I was expecting when I set out to investigate Ryker Grumpyson this morning.
I do sort of expect a parole officer to jump out of a bush and check if Ryker is taking part in his court-mandated community service, but nothing of the sort happens. Instead, we just stroll around, look at the silly costumes, and do something good for the environment.
When we pass by a gazebo, Robin Hood shoots a foam arrow our way. The royal trash can next to me catches it just before it can hit me in the chest. I think he even almost smiles at the assailant, who approaches us with a gigantic grin himself. The two men hug.
“So we meet again, The Prince Formerly Known As Ryker. Purple suits you. Now we’re just missing the rain,” Robin teases.
“Watch it or I’ll put on my Sheriff of Nottingham costume next time,” Ryker grumbles in response, not entirely able to let go of his smirk.
Robin grins as well, pats Ryker on the back, and turns his attention to me. “Well, well, well,” he says, eyeing me up and down. “You must be the fair maiden I have been meaning to rescue this entire time.”
I might blush a little, although that could just be due to the fact that it’s slowly getting colder.
“She’s already been rescued.” Ryker cuts in with a rumbling voice.
“That’s debatable,” I respond. “But also, I don’t need any rescuing. Especially not from you. And, also, before I forget, no prince would say‘Tally-ho’.”
Robin shoots glances between the both of us and eventually extends his hand to shake mine. I use the opportunity to inspect Mr. Hood a little closer. He smells as incredible as he looks, not at all like an outlaw who lives in the woods without running water. His smile is so perfect he should probably be required to carry a permit for that kind of panty-dropping weapon, and his hair is so silky I half expect him to run his fingers through it in slow motion.
He smoothly pulls me in, puts his arm around me, and leads me away. “You’re actually the first date he has brought to any of these,” Robin whispers, only for me to hear. “He must be quite fond of you. I’m Ben. What’s your name?”
“Oh, it’s the opposite, actually,” I whisper back. “He hates my guts and this is his way of torturing me. And it’s Sienna, the tortured.” I shake a little as the cold finally creeps through my puffy dress and hoodie. “You’re his friend, I assume?” I still keep my voice down.
Ben answers with a nod and a smile. “I’d like to think so.”
“Great, well maybe you could tell me his most embarrassing secrets so I can use them against him once the time comes?”
15
RYKER
That’s really not how this was supposed to go.
I mean, I didn’t plan any of this. I couldn’t have known how this would go, but it should definitely not go like this. Now she’s making friends with my friend and whispering, well, not so much behind my back, but rather right in front of me. On top of that, his hand is resting on her shoulder, where it has absolutely no business of being. She’s probably cold by now, too, and while I do want her to suffer, hypothermia is probably not the way to go.
I take off my jacket and in one swift motion remove Ben’s arm, replacing it with the thick fabric of my coat. At the same time, I push her to the side to make some room for (Jesus and) myself in-between the two. That should keep her from getting sick.
Ben looks at me and grins. I know what he’s thinking, but that’s only because he’s a bit of a fool when it comes to things like this. He’s a dreamer, a romantic, someone who’s living in his fantasies half the time. Which, I’m sure has its advantages, but he’s wrong about this.
“Anyway,” I address my friend, “don’t you have some other maidens to rescue or at least some trash to bag?” I take the little foam arrow that I caught earlier and poke it against his chest.
“Alright,” he says, “I can take a hint.”
“Not a hint if I say it without beating around the bush.”
He laughs and goes in for another hug, and I can practically feel how he’s winking at Sienna.
“Now beat it,” I tell him and send him on his way.
He nods at both of us and displays the infamous Ben-smile. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Sienna. And you, Mr. Kiss, I’ll see you next Saturday, right?”
I nod as well and then steer us in the opposite direction towards the little pier in the pond, where a lot of trash tends to accumulate in the water around the wooden pillars. Then I look back at my friend, who is still smiling and giving me a thumbs up.
