Carlotta stared him down. “So sorry to hear of all your troubles, Herb. I do hope you’re feeling better than you look.” For a specimen hybrid raised in prime hothouse conditions, he was in frightful shape.
Pinky Goldhaven tittered behind her palm. Googie Nathanson gesticulated with his stogie, spewing ash. “Have to say she got you that time, Herb. Looks like Carlotta’s grown herself a backbone.”
Herb sniffed. “Hey, I’m terrified. Really.” He loped over, ferrying a full champagne flute, and draped his free arm across Carlotta’s shoulders. “I’ve got a confession to make, kiddo. All that boo-hoo stuff in the letter I wrote was made up. I just wanted to be sure you’d come to our little reunion. Wouldn’t be nearly as much fun without you.”
“How resourceful, Herb. You wished me here, and here I am.”
Herb eyed her quizzically. “You’re not mad?”
“Certainly not. Why? Do I appear to be?”
“Hell, no. You appear to be zoned out. What are you on? Valium? ‘Ludes?”
“It’s called inner peace, Herb. Resolution. I believe you’ll find me rather unflappable.”
“You? Yeah, right.” Pretending to stumble, Herb slopped his bubbly all over Carlotta’s cream silk dress. “Oops. Hey, let me help you with that.” He ducked into the kitchen and returned with a filthy sponge. Muddy blotches bloomed as he dabbed the wet spots. “Oh, my. Look what an awful mess. Not miffed, are you, O unflappable one?”
“About a little soil and moisture? Heavens no.” Carlotta turned her back on him. “How are you, Pinky? Julia and Apulia, so lovely to see you girls again.”
For the next three hours, Herb exhausted himself trying to light Carlotta’s fuse. He served her Campari and soda in a dribble glass. He assailed her with shocks and rude noises and plastic vermin. When she needed to use the rest room, he directed her to a toilet rigged to back up with a menacing gurgle, then overflow in a rush of vile debris.
Slogging forth, Carlotta found Herb waiting in the hall. With a look of revulsion, he sniffed the air. “Nice aroma, honey. What’s that you’re wearing? Eau de Poop?’”
“I can’t say what it is, actually. But I’m so pleased you find it agreeable.”
“Anything’s better than the way you usually stink, Carlotta. Reminds me of that puke they used to serve Thursdays in middle school.”
“How lovely that I bring back fond memories for you, Herb. Childhood was such a happy, carefree time, as I recall.”
“Yeah? Then I bet you’re going to love the little surprise I’ve planned for you.” Herb squired her back to the living room. “Take a load off, Carlotta. Gather round, boys and ghouls. It’s show time.”
Carlotta checked the chair for booby traps and sat.
Holding his fist like a microphone, Herb boomed. “Our pest-I mean, guest-of honour has provided us all with so many laughs, I thought it only fitting that we offer her a special tribute tonight. Come with me now on this amusing jaunt down memory lane. Carlotta Little, this is your life.”
For the next hour, Carlotta sat through a wrenching rehash of every horrendous stunt Herb Lattimore had ever pulled at her expense. He began with the urine-soaked cafeteria chair in second grade. Next came the time he stole her training bra from the gym locker, and Carlotta saw it raised with the American flag during an all-school assembly. In eighth grade she was sentenced to a month of detentions after Herb scratched her initials in the fresh blacktop paving the schoolyard.
Some of his confessed mischief was news to Carlotta. She had not known that Herb was behind the premature eruption of her science-fair volcano or the mysterious disappearance of the thirty-page final paper on the life and times of Harry Houdini, over which she’d slaved for months. Because of the zero she received as a result, Carlotta had failed Social Studies and lost her coveted position as recording secretary of the Future Biographers of America.
“Last but not least, I’d like to present a recorded message from our special guest herself.” Herb worked a remote, activating the sound system.
Carlotta’s teenaged voice, ripe and husky, bellowed through the speakers. “That’s it, Herb. Right there. Don’t stop. Oh, my! Hoooo, baby. Yes!”
Everyone roared with laughter while the tape played on in a jeering, relentless loop. “Hooo, baby. Yes! Hooobabyyeshoooooooooo-bactabeeeee Yesssssss!”
Carlotta sat, unflinching, until the joke died of natural causes.
“Still not mad, Betsy Wetsy?” taunted Herb.
“Certainly not, Herb. In fact, I’m touched to think you’d go to all that trouble on my account.”
“Hey, it’s my pleasure. Honest,” chortled Herb.
“Well, that’s grand. Thankfully, I have something to give you in return. You asked that I bring something to share, something from the heart, and I have.”
Carlotta plucked a small box from her purse. “For you, Herb. I made it myself.”
“What is it? A bomb?”
“Don’t be silly. Of course not. It’s poison.”
Frowning, Herb stepped away.
“Hey, what’s up, Chervil? You scared?” Googie teased.
“Yeah, right. I’m sweating bullets.” Herb swaggered toward Carlotta and took the box. He cut the yellow tape around it, slashing through the caution warnings. Inside was a single chocolate, marked with a skull and crossbones. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Carlotta. That’s pretty cute.”
“Oh, no, Herb.” Carlotta’s face was grave. “It is not cute at all. This is not a game, I assure you. And I’m warning you, in front of all these witnesses, that the chocolate in that box contains a highly lethal poison. One of the deadliest in the plant kingdom, in fact. I extracted it myself from the root of my Aconitwn napellus, prize specimen of the family Ramunculacecte. Poor thing suffered some pain, I’m afraid. Actually, he’s been acting a bit dejected since the surgery, but I’m told he’ll enjoy a complete recovery.”
“Sure, right. Whatever you say.” Herb chuckled.
Carlotta’s brow peaked in surprise. “Have you never heard of aconites? How surprising. I was certain you would have. They happen to be fellow herbs. Perennials such as yourself, in fact. Aconites are showy like you as well, Herb. And, like you, their venom has dire, disastrous effects.”
Herb held the chocolate gingerly.
“Check it out: he’s terrified.” Googie guffawed.
“Shut your stupid trap,” hissed Herb. “Let me get this straight, Carlotta. You’re handing me this so-called poison chocolate and warning me not to eat it?”
“Definitely. Anyone foolish enough to ingest that would start to choke. He’d experience terrible restlessness, drooling, and nausea. Soon, his heartbeat would grow weak and irregular. He’d suffer dreadful chest pains, dizziness, prostration. There would be catastrophic damage to several major organs almost immediately. By the time EMS arrived, it would be too late to reverse the effects. Death would be inevitable, but unfortunately, it could take hours for that sweet mercy. It’s a rather excruciating way to go, I’m told.” Carlotta had to smile at that, but she quickly reverted to a sombre expression. “Sounds like the sort of end you’d only wish on your very worst enemy, Herb. Trust me.”