Page 69 of Sharkbait
Wally jogs over just in time and zips her dress back up. “How about we keep our skivvies on for now, babe?”
“You’re right. This is their show. Don’t wanna pull focus.” She winks at her man.
My, my, Mabel’s confidence levels have soared this summer.
“Did she say Big BangBacchanal?” Calliope whips out her phone and starts scrolling. “I thought the BBB stood for Big Bang Burlesque.”
“Did you get a contract?” I ask.
“Yes. That’s what I’m looking for.”
“I feel like I should know this, but what is a Bacchanal?” Ralph’s head tilts to the side as he stares at the carnal scene unfolding in front of us.
I’m doing the same.
“It’s, um… It’s a Greco-Roman cult party celebrating Bacchus, the god of wine. Otherwise known as…an orgy,” I say.
“Wow, an orgy!” Mabel claps her hands. “That pretty one licking the big guy in the crown must be Saturn. Look at all the golden rings on her headpiece. And around her ta-tas.”
“This is so scientifically inaccurate,” Ralph says.
“Oh, ya think?” I mock.
“But, Mabel, for future reference,” Ralph’s teaching voice is in full effect, “the big guy in the crown is Jupiter.”
“How can you tell?”
“His body paint is legit. I have to give them credit. They did do at least a minimum amount of research. Also, Jupiter is the largest planet in our solar system—often referred to as the ‘king of planets’—so that explains the crown choice. But most importantly, see how his penis and its surrounding area is painted red and how he’s committed to whipping it around and around like a helicopter blade?”
Mabel watches for a moment. “I do see that, yeah.”
“He’s trying to simulate Jupiter’s Great Red Spot.”
“What’s that?” she asks.
“It’s a high-pressure storm that’s been swirling in Jupiter’s atmosphere for over three-hundred years. It’s so large it’s visible from space.”
“Welp. Not visible anymore,” I mumble as Jupiter plunges into Saturn.
“Fascinating. Thank you for that teaching moment, friend.” Mabel offers Ralph a fist bump.
“You bet.”
Ralph accepts the bump, then he and Mabel go back to watching the action with renewed interest.
I huddle close to Calliope, who is scrolling through the contract like mad.
“What does it say?”
“I give up,” she says and hands me the phone. “You know how these contracts are. So much mumbo jumbo.”
“Let me see.” I scroll to the bottom of the contract. “Did you read the fine print when you booked this thing?”
“Of course not. No one reads the fine print,” Calliope scoffs.
“Always read the fine print, sister friend. Always! See? It says it right here: ‘Big Bang Burlesque is code for Big Bang Bacchanal, a celestial orgy adventure.’”
Calliope grabs her phone back and squints. “Damn, that font is tiny.”
