The drive up the mountain was beautiful. Cold. Beautiful. Stark, sparkling white powder lay on the forest, hung in the trees and the powders cousin, ice, sheeted the road, making the drive a tad bit treacherous. A man in the back seat of an aero star leaned forward and tapped the passenger of the van on the shoulder. “Is this restaurant…fancy?” he asked.
The girl he was sitting next to chortled and crossed her arms. “Why are you asking Mrs. Dumont that question?” she spat. The passenger glared at her. She was already Mrs. Dumont, but she was real annoyed with the tone of voice her friend had been having all day. “This is probably like their honeymoon or some shit.”
The radio was yodeling out some Blake Shelton. “Maybe I had a question?” he said, almost offended.
The winter wind tore at the van. “Kids, please!” cried the driver. “I’m trying to concentrate on not killing us.”
“The restaurant isn’t much further kids, let your dad concentrate,” giggled the passenger.
The driver, Dwight Dumont, pulled onto a little side street that cut through the woods, sequoia trees towered each side of the van and the powder that lay here did not sparkle due to the shortage of sunlight. It was pure, more pure than the snow on the side of the mountain road. It was not black, nor yellow. No animal tracks and human tracks. Up ahead was the restaurant.
Before Dwight could even park the van, Norma Dumont, the passenger, was at the front door of the restaurant. The wind howled outside of the van, sounding like a wail of a creature long since dead. “How do you keep up with her?” asked Colleen, the passenger. Somewhere above them, the wind shrieked. The friend with the bad tone of voice.
“I am hoping once she is pregnant, she will slow down,” said the driver. In the rearview mirror, Colleen’s mouth dropped open. “We want a baby. Is that so shocking?”
They joined Norma by the door and stepped into the restaurant. Norma’s smile grew larger as Hawk, the other passenger’s smile turned into a frown. The restaurant looked to be abandoned. “Okay, this place got just a bit more cooler!” said Norma. Norma’s smoky gray eyes glittered between black tracks of eyeliner, beneath parallel tracks of black-penciled eyebrows.
“This isn’t fancy!” growled Hawk. “I can’t propose to Colleen in a fucking abandoned building!”
Colleen gasped and looked up for Dwight and Norma, who were both gone. She frowned. “Yeah, don’t care about my happiness you fuck sticks!”
The place smelt of piss and an old wet clothes. Hawk’s hand dove into his pocket when they heard an odd noise, it sounded like Norma. He took his hand out of his pocket. “We should make sure she’s okay!” Hawk said, going into the next room, the lounge, judging by the sign overhead: No Persons Under the Age of 21.
The Lounge was a wreck. Neither Norma nor Dwight were in the lounge. They heard another noise, this noise was Norma. And it was not coming from the Lounge; it was coming from the kitchen. Hawk’s face had gone so white it looked transparent, yet Hawk smiled to himself. Norma was not hurt or scared, she was having sex. Hawk elbowed Colleen. “Think they’re making buns?”
The Lounge around Colleen was dim and cool. “Why would they be making bread?” asked Colleen.
Hawk’s mouth drooped, becoming as severe as an iguanas. “They want a baby.”
Colleen gave Hawk a bitter look. “And that has to do with bread?”
“He’s putting a bun in her oven.”
“Oh! Oh! Oh…oh…ew! Ew! Ew!” cried Colleen as Hawk chortled. “They’re having sex? In an abandoned building?” Colleen ran to the kitchen and Hawk followed her. She clanged into the kitchen and froze. Norma was bent over a dingy looking table, panties and pants down around her ankles, Dwight stood behind her, pants and underwear around his ankles. “I’m going to be sick!”
“C’mon, baby, let’s see if we can’t find a nice place to make love, maybe outside, on the roof maybe?” purred Hawk.
“It’s snowy outside,” purred Colleen. “Your nuts would freeze to the roof and we’d freeze to death.”
“We’ll keep each other warm,” said Hawk, kissing Colleen’s neck. “Plus, I don’t wanna smell what their sex smells like.”