Chasing the Moon

A harmless topic was hard to find.

“Seen any good movies lately?” she asked.

“No. Dog won’t usually allow me out of the apartment that long, and my TV only picks up Hanna-Barbera cartoons.”

“Oh. Well, Scooby-Doo can be fun.”

“Don’t get Scooby-Doo,” he said with a sour frown.

“Flintstones?”

He shook his head.

“Yogi Bear?” she tried. “Hong Kong Phooey? Captain Caveman? Squiddly Diddly?”

“No. None of those either.” He half-smiled at her. “I don’t think I’ve met anyone who was such a Hanna- Barbera fan.”

“I have this tendency to remember unnecessary trivia,” she replied. “And yes, I do realize that unnecessary trivia is a redundant phrase. But some bits of trivia are more unnecessary than others, and I assume that knowing nearly every Hanna-Barbera character ever created is probably in the more unnecessary category.”

He laughed.

“Well, what do you get?” she asked.

“It varies. Mostly Galaxy Trio reruns and the occasional Speed Buggy episode. Sometimes, if the planets are in just the right alignment, Fangface comes in.”

“Fangface was a Ruby-Spears production,” said Diana. “Not Hanna-Barbera.”

“Boy, you weren’t kidding about the unnecessary trivia, were you?”

“Everybody’s got a talent.”

“Just do me a favor,” he said. “Don’t tell my TV that. Fangface may not be great, but I’d hate to lose it.”

She put a finger to her lips. “Mum’s the word.”

“I was always partial to Grape Ape,” said Zap.

The invisible voice spoke up behind her. “I think it’s criminal that Wait Till Your Father Gets Home is all but forgotten.”

She jumped. It wasn’t a big reaction, but Chuck noticed.

“That’s just Keith,” said Chuck. “He doesn’t exist.”

“So ILve been told.”

He tapped his temple with his finger. “It helps not to think about it too much.”

She imitated the gesture. “Can do.”

They shared a smile. Diana wasn’t given to romantic fantasies, but she felt a connection, a spark. She noticed it because she’d so rarely come across it before. They had something going on here. Something undefined, but promising.

Vom came over and plopped onto the sofa between Diana and Chuck, ruining the moment.

“So what are you two crazy kids up to over here?” he asked.

“Flirting, I think,” said Zap. “Fascinating ritual, really. I’m not familiar with how the custom proceeds, but I believe they were about to engage in intercourse.”

“By all means,” said Vom, “carry on. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Actually,” said Smorgaz, “mating usually only proceeds when the female has been properly inebriated to levels that impair her judgment without imminent threat of inducing vomiting.”

Chuck excused himself to go to the bathroom.

“Thanks a lot, guys,” said Diana.

“Did we do something wrong?” asked Vom.

“Forget it. It’s no big deal.”

She caught Zap staring at her again. He folded his tentacles and turned his giant eye toward the ceiling.

Stacey and Peter-thing came over with a plate of cucumber sandwiches.

“Everyone behaving over here?” asked Stacey with her warm smile.

“Snack snack,” said Peter-thing.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Vom grabbed two handfuls and devoured them in one gulp. There was one left, and he gently plucked it from the tray and, with one furry green pinky out, moved it toward his mouth. “Uh… anyone want this last one?” he asked.

Nobody did.

“Delicious,” he said. “Absolutely delightful. You must give me the recipe.”

“It’s an old family secret,” said Stacey. “My lips are sealed.”

“Cucumbers and mayonnaise,” said Peter-thing. She wagged her finger at him, and he recoiled.

“Now, Peter, why would you do such a terrible thing. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you.”

Peter-thing pouted. His large, red eyes welled up with tears.

“Sorrrrryyyyyy.”

“Oh, you know I can never

Grinning, he leaned forward, and Diana assumed he was about to bite her head off. Instead, they kissed, and the batthing switched hosts as their lips touched.

Despite all efforts not to think about it, Diana wondered how the couple managed sex. She could imagine it, but managed, through sheer willpower, not to dwell on the images that went through her head.

“You’ll excuse us,” said Peter.

When Stacey-thing turned around, he slapped her rump. The thing jumped hosts again, and Stacey giggled.

“Oh, Peter, you naughty boy.”

Diana smiled. The couple weirded her out, but they were also kind of sweet at the same time. Take away the bat-creature one of them always had to be, and they probably had the best relationship she’d seen in a long while. They seemed to enjoy each other’s company and were making the best of a tough situation. There was something special about that. Weird, but special.

She got up and caught Chuck as he came out of the bathroom.

“Hey, sorry about the monsters,” she said. “Don’t worry about it. You get used to that sort of thing around here. And you can’t really blame them for getting confused about how our reality works. Hell, I was born here, and I’m still figuring it out.”

He ran his hand through his hair, and a few strands fell across his forehead, cementing forever his resemblance to Superman for her. She’d always loved Superman. Never been a fan of the bad boy. The rock-solid, dependable good guy was underrated.

She caught herself staring into his brown eyes. They twinkled.

“You want to grab a drink?” she asked. “I hear Peter is a superb mixologist.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Bowing, he indicated he’d follow her, and when they walked he put his hand on her back. Not too high. Not too low. Just the right spot to indicate friendliness without familiarity.

You could keep Batman, she decided. She’d take the Boy Scout any day.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Greg stood before the small banquet. He didn’t like standing behind a podium, saying it distanced him from his audience, triggering sense memories of long, dull lectures that a lifetime had taught most people to tune out. But Greg had a message to spread, the good word, and for all his faults, for all his smarminess, all his one- dimensional eagerness, he was a believer. That was what bothered Calvin the most about Greg.

He believed.