Underground
see us. We were probably the first customers of the night. “Alright.” I said. “Let’s take a seat.” “What?” “You don’t want to sit here? You wanna go inside?” “Sit here? What do you mean? Why sit instead of stand?” I really didn’t know what to say. So I laughed. “I really like your sense of humor, Fionna. You’re funny,” I said. “Maybe,” she replied. I pulled out her chair for her like some proper gent of days long gone. “I suppose I’ll sit if you insist.” So there she was. Not the Fionna I expected. No moonless, night black hair. No Spanish colored skin. But she was strictly beautiful, with blonde hair the goldish white of Grecian lightning, painted fingernails layered and patterned like flowers in the new heat of springtime, eyeshadow over irises the eerie green of north Californian forests. I’ll admit, she wasn’t the kind of girl I usually go for. I’d acquired a taste for the perfectly artificial girl—that sweet American blend of nature gone askew. Hailey had been like that. Fionna had appeared to be like that on OKCupid and Facebook. But this girl in front of me—she was too pretty, too real for me. And, beyond that, she was the oddest person I’d ever met. “Welcome to Noche! My name is Brittany...” “Oh! Hi there! Do you think we could start with a few candy horses. Actually, never mind my mood has changed now that I’m here. I’d think I’d rather have a few mountain crackers please. Just one bedspoon, if you will.” Brittany stood there just as bewildered as I was. She opened her mouth and visibly tried to say a few words. None of them emerged complete. I still had the notion at that point that all of Fionna’s obscurity was some sort of prank or practical joke, so I passed it off and took the liberty of ordering us something real. “Two Yuenglings, actually.” “Oh no, not Yuengliiiiiings,” Fionna whined. “You don’t like them?” I asked her. “No, I mean, they’re fine, it’s just—it’s such a long story really. Basically, when I was a kid, my mom always used Yuengling in the batter of our night cakes, and I could always, every single time, taste it. So, needless 40