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A Very Special Girl
A Harry the Book Story
Mike Resnick
I am reading the Daily Racing Form in my temporary office, which is the third booth at Joey Chicago's 3-Star Tavern, and coming to the conclusion that six trillion to one on Flyaway in the fifth at Saratoga is a bit of an underlay, as there is no way this horse gets within twenty lengths of the wi
He also is an occasional employee that I use when some goniff does not wish to honor his marker, and indeed he has just returned from Longshot Lamont's, where I had sent him to collect the three large that Longshot Lamont bet on Auntie's Panties to come in first, and indeed the filly does come in first by seven lengths, but she comes in first in the eighth race after she goes to the post in the seventh race thirty minutes earlier.
"So do you pick up the three large that Harry the Book is owed?" asks Be
"Of course he picks it up," says Gently Gently Daw-kins. "After all, he is half as big as a mountain, and is covered by almost as much dirt, and how much can three large weigh anyway?"
They immediately get into one of their arguments, Gently Gently saying that a three-thousand-dollar diamond weighs less than a cigarette, and Be
"So does Longshot Lamont pay with a smile?" I ask Dugan.
He gives me that puzzled expression—he doesn't think as clearly as he used to before he became a zombie—and says, "I thought you wanted money, Harry."
"Money is even better than smiles," I say to comfort him, and because it is also true. "I trust you have it with you?"
"Well, I had it," says Dugan. I was going to say "says Dugan uncomfortably," but the fact of the matter is that nothing makes him more uncomfortable than being dead, which is a permanent if not a stationary condition.
"If you do not have it anymore, you had better tell me where it is and why it is not in my hand right now," I say.
"I am in love," says Dugan. "I meet the most wonderful girl this afternoon on my way back from Longshot Lamont's."
"Is this not a bit early in the relationship for an exchange of three-thousand-dollar gifts?" asks Gently Gently.
"Do not be so fast to misinterpret," replies Dugan. "This girl is just half a step short of perfection."
"Then she will understand that that was not your money to give, and she will be happy to hand it over to me," I say.
"Uh . . . that is the half a step I was referring to," says Dugan, brushing away flies that are starting to play field hockey on his face, as they always do when he stands in one place for a few minutes.
I decide to be the reasoning father figure, partially because I am a saint among men, and primarily because I have not yet figured out how to threaten a man who is already dead, and I say, "Tell us about this remarkable lady who has won your heart."
"She has left my heart right where it has always been," answers Dugan. "She is much more interested in my brain and my soul."
"I can't imagine why," says Be
"She is kind of a collector," explains Dugan, and it is the first time in my life I ever see a zombie swallow uneasily, or swallow at all, for that matter.
"What does she collect, brains or souls?" asks Be
"I get the impression that she is not all that choosy," answers Dugan.
"Where do you meet her?" I ask. "I am passing Creepy Conrad's Curiosity Shop, and I see her through the window, nibbling on a little snack in a feminine way, and it is love at first sight."
"What kind of snack?" asks Gently Gently, who at 350 pounds and counting has a serious interest in such things.
"I ca
"But she swallows it in a feminine way," I say, though my sarcasm is lost on Dugan.
"Yes," he says. "She is just beautiful. And very precise. Why, she drains an entire fifth of Comrade Terrorist vodka and does not spill so much as a drop."
"I figure the tail accompanies both ears of whatever it was as a prize for her feminine appetite," says Be
"She should skip the Olympics and go pro," adds Gently Gently.
"Does she eat anything else we should know about?" I ask.
"Like what?" asks Dugan.
"Like small children," I say. "Or even big ones."
"You are speaking of the woman I love!" says Dugan heatedly.
"I am speaking of the woman who is holding three large that belongs to me," I say. "Maybe you should introduce me to both of them."
"Both?" asks Dugan.
"Your girl and my money," I say. "I will take it from there."
"All right," says Dugan. "I am dying to see her again anyway."
"Poor choice of words," notes Joey Chicago from behind the bar.
"But you have to approach her gently, Harry," continues Dugan, ignoring Joey's unfeeling if accurate remark. "She is a sensitive thing and takes offense easily."
"I will approach her so gently she will hardly know I am there," I assure him.
"She will know," he assures me. "She is very perceptive." He pauses. "I think it is the extra pair of eyes."
"She has four eyes?" I say.
"At the very least," says Dugan.
"Has she got four of anything else important?" asks Be
"She comes equipped with all kinds of extras," says Dugan. "This is why I have fallen in love with her. She is unique, even among women, who are all unique, each in their own alien way."
"What kinds of extras?" I ask.
"Teeth," says Dugan. "Claws. Eyes. Tails. Well, it is only one tail, but compared to everyone else it is extra."
"I ca
"And how many women can lift an entire car?" says Dugan proudly.
"Six cylinders or eight?" asks Gently Gently.
"Why would she lift a car?" chimes in Be
"It is a very tight parking space, so she just walks out, picks up the car, driver and all, and sets it down in the empty space." Dugan smiles wistfully. "And she does not even break a sweat."
"I agree that she is unique among all the women of my acquaintance," I say. "Right up to the incident with the car, she is ru
"That is nothing," says Dugan. "You should see her fly."
"Probably I shouldn't," I say. "I have enough trouble falling asleep as it is."
"She just flaps her arms and flies away?" asks Be