Going Bovine

Going Bovine Page 136

“Holy Shiite Muslim,” I say, circling him, checking out the back.

“You like it? It’s cool, right?”

“It’s insane!”

“Yeah, I know. Check out the tattoo.”

“You got a tattoo?”

“Yeah. Shoulder. Check it out, dude.” He pulls down his shirt to show me his shoulder, and there it is in new ink, the Buddha Cow above the words How Now Mad Cow?

“What the hell happened?”

“Dude, it was so kick-ass. I was at the Party House with Parker and Marisol and these two other people who are supposed to go on before me. I am totally freaked-the-hell-out. They keep showing these promos from I Double Dog Dare You, and it is just the gnarliest shit you can imagine. People bungee jumping into horse manure. Guys getting their whole bodies waxed, screaming in pain. The first one to go up is this chick. They double dog dared her to eat a dung beetle …”

“A dung beetle? Where did they get—”

“Put a cap on it for a sec. So they dared her but she wouldn’t do it, man. No go. Same with the guy who was supposed to get his butt shaved and shocked with a cattle prod. He was a total cabrón, anyway. He let them shock him on the arm, but it’s not the same, you know? The crowd booed him. They thought he was completely lame. Next thing I know, Drew—remember Drew? Guy who took me to the first-aid tent at the auction?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Turns out he works on the show. Anyway, he sits down next to me and says, ‘Don’t worry. You’ll be great.’ Like he totally believed I could do it. I can see Parker waving me up and everybody yelling and shit, but it’s like I don’t even hear it. And right then, I thought, what the hell. What. The. Hell. I never do anything. Boom! These two huge dudes come strap me into an old electric chair, and right then, at that moment, I had no idea what was going to happen. I thought I was going to shit my pants.”

My heart’s thumping hard just hearing this. Balder’s on the edge of his seat.

“And?” Balder prompts.

“I hear this rrrrrrnnnnn-nnnn-nnnnn, and I think, Oh shit, man. They are revving this baby up. I started thinking about all the things I’ve never done, like surf or get a tattoo or tell my mom off. Mostly I think that I’ve never gotten to be myself. Ever. I hear that rrrrrnnnn-nnn-NNNN-nnn near my ear, and I vowed to myself, Dude, if you make it out of this alive, you are going to do it, whatever it is. The big guys wrap their paws around my throat. Parker pulls out a razor, lowers it to my head. And thirty seconds later, I’m a Mohawk man.”

He pops the top on a warm can of soda. “People went insana! They’re shouting my name, ‘Gon-zo! Gon-zo! Gon-zo!’ And they’re passing me around over their heads. It was, like, the greatest day of my life. And then I just … disappeared.”

Gonzo guzzles soda. He wipes his mouth on his arm.

“Wow. That’s … wow. And the tattoo?” I ask.

“First thing I did when I left the chair. Me and Drew.”

It bothers me that Gonzo’s got a new friend, somebody who sounds a lot cooler than me.

“So, I guess you’re all famous now, huh?” I say.

“Yeah. Guess so.” He beams again, drinks his soda.

“You saved me, my son,” Balder says, embracing Gonzo. “You fought with honor. You are truly Gonzo the Great.”

Gonzo blushes. “Gonzo the Great. Sweet. I’m getting me a T-shirt with that on it soon as we hit a mall.”

Balder gives Gonzo a fist bump. “Word.”

There’s a knock on the door, and my pulse zooms into the red zone again. Maybe it is the cops this time. Gonzo must think it’s Santa, from the shit-eating grin he’s sporting. He runs to open it. Drew’s standing there in a white muscle tee, a mop of dirty blond hair framing his choirboy face. His arms are inked from his wrists to his biceps.

“Hey,” Drew says. He shoves his hands in his pockets and gives us a wary nod.

“It’s okay. They’re cool,” Gonzo says. Drew leans down and gives him a kiss right on the mouth. I’ve never seen Gonzo so happy. I swear it’s like he’s just gotten a brand-new inhaler with Captain Carnage sticker decals. And now I know: Drew isn’t a threat to our friendship. He’s something else entirely.

“Hey, Drew. Cameron,” I say, shaking his hand so he knows I’m okay with the whole You’re My Best Friend’s Slightly Juvenile-Delinquentish Spring Break Boyfriend.

“I was just telling them about last night,” Gonzo says.