The Right Man for the Job Part 5

Things between the three of us began to go swimmingly. After about two weeks of work, Eleanor appeared to have been aroused from a prolonged daydream. She was more involved. She smiled more. And with Eleanor’s increased vivacity, I found her increasingly attractive. In addition, our jocularity was on the uptick, and our routine became rollicking.
I often look for instances in which I can indulge myself. One afternoon, we got to use a hose to water some of the flowers that were planted near the walkways. I was supposed to turn the water on and Eleanor was supposed to do the watering. Darlene was “supervising”. Once I turned the water on, Eleanor started spraying. Then I squeezed part of the hose together to cut off the water flow. Eleanor didn’t notice me and started shaking the hose around as if that would help. I released my hold on the hose and Eleanor sprayed herself on accident. And boy, if she looked good dry, she looked spectacular wet. Of course, Eleanor didn’t appreciate it, so she chased me around while Darlene finished up.
Eleanor was a big fan of Elmo from Sesame Street. She brought a stuffed Elmo to work so she could situate it inside Caravantastic. Earlier, she had regaled us with a story from her childhood.
“When I was little I pronounced my name ‘Elnore’. And then I’d watch Sesame Street and see Elmo and I felt this bond with him because our names were so similar. He’s also got that cute orange nose. I would imagine myself reaching out and plucking that nose from his face and biting into it like an orange. I’d share with him of course. And we would both laugh and take bites of his nose. And I loved his voice.”
So we had a red companion riding around with us everywhere. It just so happened to be a Tickle-Me-Elmo. We would often be spotted moving from one place to another accompanied by the sound of high-pitched giggling. We had flavor to our ride like no one else had.
As for Darlene, she adequately balanced her abilities to be businesslike with her abilities to horse around. When she wasn’t telling us what to do, she was messing around with our hair, and then telling us not to mess with hers. That’s like telling someone not to roast marshmallows over a campfire. It’s just not fair. Eleanor and I tried to get a quick swipe at her locks a few times, but Darlene just swatted our hands away in defense so no one could permeate her perm.
She’d also challenge other employees to golf cart races, knowing she’d most likely win. Then when they declined, she taunted them, calling them “good-for-nothing yellow shrimp-dicks”. She could be a little harsh. I tried to tell her a dozen times. She didn’t seem to listen.
It was interesting to see how her springy ways changed her dynamic with Eleanor. Before, the only thing the two seemed to have in common was their impeccable-smelling hair. Now they were like bosom buddies with actual bosoms.
Sometimes when we carried things, she’d walk over to Eleanor, who was prone to back pain, and start rubbing her back to make sure things stayed loose. But she’d also add remarks that were wrought with contrived sexual innuendo.
“Tell Momma where it hurts, darling. I’ll give you a nice thorough rubdown and make it feel all better,” she said one time. “Let me get the cocoa butter.” Then she walked off, laughing hysterically. Eleanor just stood there, a hint of a smile on her face.
One evening, we were about to quit working for the day, and we came upon a yacht near the marina. There was some fast-paced music playing inside of it, and Darlene, in a burst of whimsy, stopped Caravantastic and jumped out and started cavorting. Then she pulled Eleanor out of the cart and forced her to be her partner. Darlene took Eleanor’s wrists in her hands and waved them back and forth with swift pumping motions. She twirled her around and Eleanor laughed. Then the song changed, the tempo dropped, and the two began slow dancing. Darlene playfully wrapped her arms around the waist of Eleanor, who draped her arms around Darlene’s neck. I watched as Eleanor rested her head on Darlene’s shoulder. I wanted to cut in on Darlene and have my own turn with Eleanor, but at the same time I didn’t want to disturb them. They looked so happy.

I wasn’t prepared for what happened the following week. The way things had been going I had no reason to expect otherwise. But that’s why they tell you to expect the unexpected. I supposed I could have expected it if my eye had been a bit keener, if I had been able to pick on a few clues or hints that could have made the proverbial light bulb go off. But as things stood at that time, I was pretty shortsighted.
It all began with a day that saw the temperature breach one hundred degrees—of the Fahrenheit variety, of course. Darlene was driving the cart. Eleanor was to her right, humming and fanning herself. I sat in back, looking on as two chubby children wrestled on the steamy beach sand. Just as the heat had increased tensions between those two kids, it seemed to awaken some more female tendencies in Darlene. Not that they weren’t there before.
As we were driving along, Darlene noticed an inhabited but parked golf cart off to the left of the pathway. She brought Caravantastic to a screeching halt alongside it.
In the other cart, there was a single male employee. He had short hair and was our age. He had a dazed look on his face as he sat in the driver’s seat.
“Hey, Manly. How’s things?” Darlene asked him. Needless to say, yet I’ll say it anyway, his name wasn’t really “Manly”. Between the two carts was a large mud puddle. There was a large bucket in the passenger seat of his cart. “What’s with the bucket?”
He looked over at her, still looking befuddled. “It was full of dirty water. I emptied it out right here,” he said, indicating the puddle.
“Fascinating. Wanna race?” Darlene asked him, grinning.
“I can’t. I’m waiting for some people.”
“Are these people just as handsome as you are?”
Eleanor quit humming and sat up in her seat.
“I wouldn’t call them handsome. They’re nice-looking girls—“
“Lucky them. They get a boy toy like you. Why’d they go and leave you here all by your lonesome? Those rotten skanks.”
Eleanor looked over at Darlene. So did I. She had never been this flirtatious before. By the looks of it, Eleanor didn’t like it.
“Don’t you have things you should be doing?” he asked. He was made uncomfortable by this sudden attention.
“We’ll get around to it. I can certainly make time for you.”
“That’s okay. You don’t have to do that.”
“Oh don’t be like that, Manly. Come on; let’s have some fun. Let’s get down and dirty.”
Eleanor had become severely agitated at Darlene’s little episode. So much so that she became possessed to shove Darlene out of the driver’s seat and into the mud puddle. She really did get down and dirty after all. Eleanor quickly shimmied into the driver’s seat and drove off.
I whipped around and saw Darlene quickly clamber into the other cart and point at us. She jerked the guy around and he eventually accelerated in pursuit. I turned around to Eleanor.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Driving,” she answered. She looked behind her and saw we were being followed. I made to get into the passenger seat, but she prevented me from doing so. “No, you stay in the back and ward them off with your feet!”
“My feet?!”
“Just do it.”
She was really taking this cart for a ride, maxing out its speed, which isn’t that fast. I sighed and took hold of the bench armrests and sat with my legs in the air, ready for action.
They were gaining on us. Darlene had positioned herself in the passenger seat. She was covered in mud and looked furious, which was understandable. After a few minutes of screaming down the cart pathways, literally and figuratively, Darlene and Manly had practically caught up to our rear, mine in particular. Begrudgingly I kicked at the front of their cart. Darlene leaned over the top and started scratching at my legs. I cried out in anguish.
“I’m hit!” I shouted to Eleanor.
“Kick harder!”
“She has demon nails!”
“Go for the steering wheel!” she directed.
So I started kicking at the wheel. Darlene grew impatient with her companion’s reluctance to respond to my desperate kicks, so she yanked him out of the driver’s seat and into the passenger seat and she took over the driving. I became horrified, knowing how reckless a driver Darlene can be, and that I was one false move from falling out of the back of our cart and under the rolling wheels of the other. I tried to reason with her.
“I don’t know why she’s doing this, but it’s not my fault! Don’t drive angry, Darlene. I’m sure she was joking around in her own unique way.”
“Shut up, Kelso! Eleanor, what the hell is your problem? Answer me!”
“You’re a bitch!” Eleanor shouted back.
Up until this point we had all used family friendly language on the job. The heat of the moment brought out our potty mouths. In my defense, I was much more collected than the others during this whole thing. And I think there’s a lot to be said for that, considering I was in the most amount of danger, which was clear and present.
After Eleanor’s insult, Darlene really punched the accelerator. She began to move up alongside our cart on the right. I sighed with relief and scrambled up on to the rear bench yet again and held on tight. Once her cart was right next to Eleanor’s, Darlene somehow managed to lean over with her left side and take a swipe at Eleanor. She missed. Eleanor took a page out of Darlene’s book and leaned over with the right side of her body and ruffled Darlene’s hair, causing it to become (dare I say it) untidy.
Before Eleanor could return her right hand to its normal position, Darlene took hold of it and jerked her away from the wheel.
“Kelso, take it!” Eleanor ordered.
“Leave me be, woman!”
“Just do it!”
Nike’s slogan won out again and I leaned over the driver seat so I could steer. Eleanor kept her foot on the gas. To be able to see properly, I had to lean my head up against her. The two girls became embattled as we drove along. They slapped each other and yanked hair and landed punches and unleashed their claws upon one another. Tickle Me Elmo was used to inflict injury, laughing hysterically as it did so. During this back and forth, Eleanor would get knocked towards me from time to time and her covered breasts would smack me in the face. Somehow Darlene managed to duel and drive at the same time. Eleanor kept on telling me to drive closer to them. But I didn’t want any vehicular damage to result so I disobeyed. We were close enough as it was.
Meanwhile, Manly had re-procured the bucket and had been struck with some inspiration. He took it and placed it over Darlene’s head, forcing her to slam the brakes. Once they stopped, he gently removed Darlene from the cart, reclaimed his bucket, and drove off.
Eleanor slowed down considerably, thinking we were safe. Then she took the wheel over again and I wriggled into the passenger seat.
“I don’t want us to get fired for this, Eleanor. Let’s go into hiding.”
Eleanor looked back again and saw that Darlene was sprinting toward us. “That’s not an option,” she said. We sped away, leaving Darlene in the dust.
Luckily for Darlene, she had the walkie-talkie. She alerted any that were listening of where Eleanor and I were heading, and that we should be stopped because we had so rudely abandoned her, even though it wasn’t my idea. Staff members from throughout Del Boca Vista headed in our direction. It only took a few minutes for a few golf carts to converge and form a makeshift barricade, forcing us to end our run.
“Take pity on me! I wasn’t driving! I was just a hostage!” I announced, climbing out of the vehicle, hands in the air. Eleanor sat there in silence, twiddling her thumbs. I felt bad for her. I felt bad for all of us, but I felt bad for her especially. I was worried we’d all get canned, but she seemed like the most likely to be bounced once the story came out. “Take pity on her too! She’s a good seed!”
It just didn’t make sense. We were like three giggly peas in a pod before this. Now Eleanor had snapped and we might all be sent packing, never to cross paths again. I didn’t want that to happen.
Soon enough, Darlene showed up. She had hitched a ride. She stepped out of the cart, looking like a disaster. It was the first time I had seen her hair in disarray. It saddened me. But I saw she was no longer angry.