Page 70 of Lovebug
“I’m sorry, an Ovis… what?” Doreen asks with a smile and a little shake of her head.
“Ovis Aries,” he responds with an unspoken “duh” in his tone. “A sheep. The scientific name is Ovis Aries. Doreen. Wouldn’t you say the majority of people in this room are a bunch of sheep?”
“I’m not sure I understand what you—”
“Baaaaa!” He bleats like an animal. “Baaaaa.”
Oh, my God. The man is baaaa-ing in front of a roomful of fifty people. You know, I got the sense that he’s a bit of an eccentric person, the kind of guy who doesn’t care much about what others think of him, but I didn’t see this particular quirk coming.
Is my dad right? Am I “book smart but not people smart”?
I shake that thought off and take quick stock of what I actually know about this man. Besides the fact that he lives alone in a shack in the woods, he can swim great distances under the water without a blowhole—though, in fairness, I haven’t checked for one. He seems to fix anything that’s broken, and he incites fear in teenagers and titillation in grown women? I know virtually nothing. Oh dammit to hell, he’s still baa-ing.
“Baaa!”
Doreen’s body is blown back by the strength of the sound. Or maybe by the sheer weirdness of Wally. She scans the room as if she’s about to call out “security!” like they do in the movies. But we don’t have security.
“Dora.” Wally chuckles. “Dora, chill.” He’s apparently finished with his barnyard game. For the moment anyway. He slaps his knee and points at her. “Oh, look at your face, girl.”
“My name is Doreen.” She tries to keep her perpetual smile in place, but I can see she’s struggling.
“I know that, girl,” he rumbles. “I just gave you a nickname. You’re welcome.” He winks.
Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out. This may be the first time I’ve seen Doreen speechless.
“Alright, let’s do this!” He rubs his hands together in anticipation. “You asked for a volunteer, I volunteered. What do you need?” He peers at the slideshow. “Someone to help perpetuate the outrageous myth that they can actually make money in your ‘business?’”
“There’s nothing outrageous about it, Wallace,” Doreen answers smoothly. “People make excellent money as distributors in our company.”
“Is that right?” He purses his lips and nods.
“It is,” she responds with confidence.
“Not what I’ve heard, Dora. Not what I’ve heard,” he says. And then he gets directly in her face and softly says, “Baaa.”
Bert rises from his chair. “Do not denigrate my mother and her sheep! I mean her followers!”
Wow, Bert’s getting red in the face.
“Bertie, sit. It’s okay,” Doreen says in a soothing tone.
“I’m notdenigratinganyone, Bertholomew,” Wally rumbles. “Though I do appreciate the filial chivalry you’re showing for Dora here.”
“It’s Doreen.” Bert practically spits. “And why the hell are you calling me Bertholomew?”
“Your name’s Bert,” Wally says matter-of-factly.” Short for Bertholomew, no?”
“Um. No,” Bert sneers. “Short for Robert.”
“No shit!” He seems genuinely stunned. “And you went forBertieas the nickname? A bold and bizarre choice, my man. Alright, back to business.”
“Yes, back to business sounds wonderful,” Doreen says with a strained smile. “You seem like a very…uniquegentleman, and we’re so pleased you’ve joined us tonight, but perhaps you can take your seat now.”
“No, thank you, ma’am. I’ll stand. But yes, back to business indeed. As I was saying… Baaaa.”
I should say something, right? This is my guest, and I should say something. But I don’t. I stay frozen to my seat.
Wally addresses the room at large.
