back down and looks around. “We’re out of fuel,” he reveals. “I should have checked that before we left. That’s rule number one.”
Max makes a face. “Oooo-uuuu,” comes out of his mouth. He turns to Libby and teasingly tells her to get out and push. We’re close now.
“Yeah right,” Libby says in disbelief. William again tries to start the truck, to no avail. “We should walk back, huh?” Libby finally asks. Shit, he wasn’t supposed to have this truck out in the first place. Can we just leave it here? Libby pulls her compact out of her purse and flips it open. The mirror’s border, encrusted with specks of (I’m betting cubic zirconium) crystal, is illuminated by light. She checks her makeup.
“That thing is wild,” a now curious and distracted Max says, before snatching the compact. “Does it have a battery in it or what? How’s it stay lit, mama?”
“Yeah, babe, I think. It’s Chanel,” she says, trying to get it back from him. “Give me.” Max playfully throws back the hand in which he is holding the compact so as to keep it away from Libby’s fingers. The compact slips from his grip. It falls out of the truck. “Max!” Libby pouts. “That thing is expensive, watch it!” She abruptly gets out of the truck and picks it up off the ground. As soon as William notices that Libby has exited the truck, he stands straight up. He orders Libby to get back in. I turn to Libby. She’s staring straight ahead, her mouth open. She presses her tongue to her upper lip, makes a face, and points a finger. “William,” she says in a soft voice. William turns around to see what Libby is pointing at. Max and I look, too. “William,” she repeats, “is that a—”
“BUFFALO!” William screams. “STAY CALM!”
But there’s nothing calming in William’s voice. Libby swiftly spins around and begins running toward the golden arch, flailing her arms. “Help!” she shouts. Max bolts out of the truck and follows suit. “Mother fucker!” he yells. William told us on day one that whatever we do we should never get out of the safari truck. When we are inside the truck the animals think we are the truck. When we are outside the truck, we are just tiny prey.
The buffalo begins to toss its horned head up and down and side to side. It flares its nostrils. I am frozen in my seat. William jumps out of the truck and drags me out by the waist. I bump my knees against the door. He throws me over his shoulder, caveman-style, and starts to run. I begin to slide off and tightly grip his neck and wrap my legs around his torso like a child in a BabyBjörn. My upper and lower teeth bang against each other as we cover ground. I turn my head and see the buffalo moving toward us. William shouts to Libby and Max to keep moving left. “Left! Left! Left! Go! Hurry! The buffalo can reach speeds of forty-four kilometers per hour!” I momentarily squeeze my eyes shut. William finally catches up to Max and Libby, gets between them, and grabs them both by the waist as I hold on to his neck and press my heels into his ass. I feel myself being raised into the air as Libby screams. We are airborne.
The four of us simultaneously crash into a body of water and sink. My skin stings from the impact. We untangle limbs, kick at one another wildly, and return to the surface with our hair attractively plastered to our skulls. Only then do I realize we’re in the swimming pool. Libby’s compact floats by on a wave. I cough and attempt to catch my breath. “We’re safe now,” William says and spits. “The buffalo won’t come into the pool.” I look up and see a black buffalo with imposing gray horns, the ends of which curl as if in a smile, standing at the edge of the pool, looking down at us.
“It’s gi-normous,” Max marvels. “Look at its hooves.”
Gi-normous
is a combination of
gigantic
and
enormous
. Usually when he uses the word he’s referring to . . . never mind, get your head out of the gutter.
We all tilt
Max makes a face. “Oooo-uuuu,” comes out of his mouth. He turns to Libby and teasingly tells her to get out and push. We’re close now.
“Yeah right,” Libby says in disbelief. William again tries to start the truck, to no avail. “We should walk back, huh?” Libby finally asks. Shit, he wasn’t supposed to have this truck out in the first place. Can we just leave it here? Libby pulls her compact out of her purse and flips it open. The mirror’s border, encrusted with specks of (I’m betting cubic zirconium) crystal, is illuminated by light. She checks her makeup.
“That thing is wild,” a now curious and distracted Max says, before snatching the compact. “Does it have a battery in it or what? How’s it stay lit, mama?”
“Yeah, babe, I think. It’s Chanel,” she says, trying to get it back from him. “Give me.” Max playfully throws back the hand in which he is holding the compact so as to keep it away from Libby’s fingers. The compact slips from his grip. It falls out of the truck. “Max!” Libby pouts. “That thing is expensive, watch it!” She abruptly gets out of the truck and picks it up off the ground. As soon as William notices that Libby has exited the truck, he stands straight up. He orders Libby to get back in. I turn to Libby. She’s staring straight ahead, her mouth open. She presses her tongue to her upper lip, makes a face, and points a finger. “William,” she says in a soft voice. William turns around to see what Libby is pointing at. Max and I look, too. “William,” she repeats, “is that a—”
“BUFFALO!” William screams. “STAY CALM!”
But there’s nothing calming in William’s voice. Libby swiftly spins around and begins running toward the golden arch, flailing her arms. “Help!” she shouts. Max bolts out of the truck and follows suit. “Mother fucker!” he yells. William told us on day one that whatever we do we should never get out of the safari truck. When we are inside the truck the animals think we are the truck. When we are outside the truck, we are just tiny prey.
The buffalo begins to toss its horned head up and down and side to side. It flares its nostrils. I am frozen in my seat. William jumps out of the truck and drags me out by the waist. I bump my knees against the door. He throws me over his shoulder, caveman-style, and starts to run. I begin to slide off and tightly grip his neck and wrap my legs around his torso like a child in a BabyBjörn. My upper and lower teeth bang against each other as we cover ground. I turn my head and see the buffalo moving toward us. William shouts to Libby and Max to keep moving left. “Left! Left! Left! Go! Hurry! The buffalo can reach speeds of forty-four kilometers per hour!” I momentarily squeeze my eyes shut. William finally catches up to Max and Libby, gets between them, and grabs them both by the waist as I hold on to his neck and press my heels into his ass. I feel myself being raised into the air as Libby screams. We are airborne.
The four of us simultaneously crash into a body of water and sink. My skin stings from the impact. We untangle limbs, kick at one another wildly, and return to the surface with our hair attractively plastered to our skulls. Only then do I realize we’re in the swimming pool. Libby’s compact floats by on a wave. I cough and attempt to catch my breath. “We’re safe now,” William says and spits. “The buffalo won’t come into the pool.” I look up and see a black buffalo with imposing gray horns, the ends of which curl as if in a smile, standing at the edge of the pool, looking down at us.
“It’s gi-normous,” Max marvels. “Look at its hooves.”
Gi-normous
is a combination of
gigantic
and
enormous
. Usually when he uses the word he’s referring to . . . never mind, get your head out of the gutter.
We all tilt
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