Floyd Kelly

“Steven, oh my god, you have to get this,” Sheila said in the novelty shop that had a weird smell like incense and fried spring rolls. As she rang up my items, she held up a glittery tube with a red sparkle.

“What is that?” I asked. “‘Inferno’ scented Komodo Dragon Pepper Lip Gloss? Sheila, no.”

“Yes! First of all, it’s vegan,” she said, reading the label.

“So is poison ivy. Not putting it on my face.”

“And second,” she said, her eyes lighting up, “I’m not taking no for an answer.” She placed it in my bag, telling me “It’s only fifty cents … c’mon, live a little.”

Three hours later…

I was at a party, bored looking for peeps to talk to. I saw a guy in a loud burgundy sweater by the “Holiday Sparkle Bites.” He was being a little grabby, touching all the food and saw me looking.

“Life’s short, kid,” he giggled. “I got all the deviled eggs, dude. Gotta be quick.”

I had a thought. This guy. I started walking over to him. “You know,” I said, “a man with your refined taste would probably appreciate this.”

I showed him the lip gloss like it was the latest invention.

“Isn’t that for girls?” he squinted.

“It’s a flavor enhancer,” I said smoothly. “Molecular gastronomy. Unlocks the palate.”

He bought it instantly. “No kidding? A flavor enhancer?”

“Totally,” I said, uncapping it. “Just a dab.” I then rubbed the lip gloss all over his last Sparkle Bite. “For vibrancy, health and good times.”

He ate it. “Huh. Shiny,” he mumbled. “Tastes like cherries and… magma.” He swallowed. His eyes went wide. He’d achieved Komodo Dragon breath.

He fanned his mouth. Panicked. He knocked a large pitcher of ice water all over his khaki pants. The shock sent him over the edge causing a frantic dance of hopping and slapping at his thighs as if flames were licking his hips wildly. Then came the punctuated high-pitched squeak that sounded shockingly like “wild bird!”

He stumbled backward, one step, then two, a wobble, then right into a funky looking metal sculpture. The sculpture hesitated for a beat and then fell with a sickening loud smash.

In the aftermath, a security guard approached me. “I’m officer Blimp, did you see what happened?”

I looked at the guy rolling around on the floor next to the ruined metal art. “Yeah,” I said. “I’m guessing it was the deviled eggs.”