Gerbert, the Porch Opossum

I have to pay for my studio space somehow. Taking on new jobs it definitely the way to do it, right? So when I get offered a job, I jump on it. The job I got to do yesterday was great fun.

It involved a party.

And desserts.

Citrus fruit.

And an apron.

I was cupcake caterer.

I got the job because my step-mom is friends with the bride, and suggested me as slave labor. Thankfully, Sharon's friend told me she was paying me $75.

Basically, I had to fill up the cupcake trays when they were near emptied for a wedding. The cupcakes were each supposed to represent some kind of drink, because the bride likes desserts and drinking. There was a wide variety of cupcakes.

I asked Regina if she wanted to come along too, even though she had had surgery the day before. She agreed, because the wedding reception was at the Magic House. (How could anyone say no?)

We all went and set up, riding the elevator more times than necessary. We carted stuff around, like boxes of flowers and jugs of water. We helped set up tables by arguing what color streamers should go where to make things aesthetically pleasing. Finally, we got to set up the cupcake trays. Regina and I even donned our aprons. To explain what happened frankly, it was one cupcake for me, one for the tray. I have never eaten so much sugar. And it wasn't even six thirty.

Apparently, the party started at seven. I was not privy to such information, and somehow got it in my head that this party must, without a doubt, start at seven thirty. With this false information, I proceeded to run about the Magic House like a semi-crazed lunatic, reliving my childhood within the walls of the most fantastic place on Earth.

After going through the Lewis and Clark Adventure, which was quite an energy suck for poor Regina who waddled like a freshly pregnant woman, we raced up stairs. We smashed ourselves against the giant red wall of plastic needles, (making a relief on the other side,) charged through the bubble station, squealed our way through the maze of mirrors and up and down the plushy slides. After Regina and I exchanged manic, sugar induced stares, we scurried like slavering dogs to the musical bench, and finally upstairs.

With a howl of triumph, we found the X-Ray Room. That is not what it is really called, but since I was "this big" I have always called it that. Basically, all the kids make an elaborate pose when the bell goes off, and then a camera light flashes, making a silhouette where the shadows hit the wall. When there are ten or fifteen kids in there, its like a weird shadowy picket fence of children bodies.

Regina and I posed for almost ten minutes. We were sugar high.

We scrambled off to another room, where there is a camera on the floor that also takes the silhouette and projects it live, changing the backgrounds on the screen so sometimes it would be like a freaking dancing rainbow.

We skipped the "feats of strength" department and went straight to the physics room. There, we had bottle races, filling them up with air and releasing them with a POP! In the next room, we found the golf-ball-parabola-ramp-loop-de-loop station. We were laughing and talking really loudly, when I realized that there was a person, sitting quietly by himself in the next room. My eyes grew wide like saucers, and I pointed.

"There is someone over there." We fell into a mass of cackling like a small pack of hyenas. He was the guard of the swirl slide that was an amazing three stories tall. I was terribly excited, until my phone started to vibrate.

Regina had already begun her decent when I picked up to Sharon harping in my ear.

"Where are you! Tammy didn't hire you so you could play! Get your ass back here this instant⎯"

"But⎯"

"You are so disrespectful⎯"

"I didn⎯"

"Other people are doing your job!" *Click*

"When did this party start? Oh, she hung up..."

So I launched myself down the three story slide, bumping and jostled all the way down, squeaking when I started to get turned around. We jogged back to the classroom where the cupcakes were hidden and grabbed armfuls of trays. Unluckily, I had to be stuck in the elevator with Sharon, who tried to reprimand me for being so discourteous to her friend, but there were party goers in with us, so she had to only shoot me glares. My eyes were still glazed over in a sugar shock, so I didn't register it as much as I could have.

Regina and I then slipped into work mode, restocking the trays as needed. We quickly had everything under control, and the happy, red faces of the party patrons filled our view. Sadly, neither Regina or I spotted any hot guys.

We secluded ourselves to the classroom, grazing on treats as we saw fit, and talking about all kinds of things. Needless to say, it was mostly inappropriate.

Finally, nine thirty rolled around, and almost everyone cleared out. Regina and I made our way upstairs and made trays of cupcakes for the people who were left over, encouraging them (rather forcefully) to take home as much food as possible. My temporary employer Tammy looked relieved to see she would be the one taking the food home.

We began the clean up of the room, and got out of there by eleven. Tammy even paid me an extra five dollars. Regina and I had made our own trays of cupcakes to take home. After juggling two trays onto Regina's lap so as to not spill said cupcakes, we drove to Schnucks to get me some make-up remover.

And that is when it happened.

First of all, there is a back story to this. I babysit a little girl named Taylor. She is about ten or so now, but is still stuck in the "Why" phase. Sometimes when I babysit her, she stays the night, and she was with us the weekend of the wedding reception. My dad and I were home and watching her, ordering pizza. When she asked for the billionth time, "Why?" I told her that if she asked "why" one more time, she was going to have to sleep under the porch with the opossum.

Unnaturally, she asked, "What's his name?"

"Gerbert," I replied.

She smiled knowingly, "Well that's a nice name. I can sleep under the porch."

Needless to say, she slept with me, putting her creepily warm feet against my thighs all night long.

So, on Regina's and my way to Schnucks, I had the misfortune of being distracted.

That's when I heard it.

It was the sick thump under my car.

My wheels riding over an irregular bump in the road. I looked behind me, horror writ clear across my face.

There, in a crushed, gray heap, was a dead Gerbert.