If Looks Could Kill by Kamila Boga

On Tuesday afternoons, the only customers you’ll find at Tommy’s Sports Grill are Pip and Mae. By six o’ clock, the bar is stifling, but Pip doesn’t behave well around others and Mae never goes anywhere without her. It’s safer that way. 

Large TVs decorate the walls, screening a different sports game on each one. Pip and Mae are glamorous. Their skin is clear and their makeup glistens and glows. The stools at Tommy’s just barely prevent their silky, floor-length, gowns from touching the sticky, beer-soaked floor. Framed, vintage photos of bugheaded world leaders and celebrities holding pints of ale are the centerpieces of each table; they are markers of the restaurant’s faded status and relevance. A TV behind them switches from a basketball game to a sport’s commentator’s highlight segment. The commentator has the head of an insect and the body of a woman. Her words are scarce and incoherent. Her laugh is like a lawnmower. Pip and Mae are mesmerized. 

“Goodness, who is she?” asked Pip. 

“A TV anchor. She talks about sports,” replied Mae. 

“Oh, how badly I wish I was her,” wept Pip. “Listen to the way she speaks! So dainty and eloquent! Do you think I’ll ever be able to sound like that?” 

“Pip, that woman is one of the lucky ones. She’s not like us,” answered Mae.  

“I must meet her,” blurted Pip.  

The title card Sports Today with Marilyn Montgomery emerges on the screen, accompanied orchestrally by several brass blares. Mae grabs her clutch, pulls out a package of spiderwebs and offers it to Pip. Pip accepts and dabs her tears softly. 

“She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” concluded Pip. “I want to touch her. I want to be her.”

“I don’t know if I can introduce the two of you. I don’t know much about her- where she lives or works. But I know other beautiful women. I can introduce you to them instead,” reasoned Mae. 

It’s true, Mae had come to know plenty of alluring women. She met them during her schooling. But none were born with the prestigious, insectile features that every girl longs for. 

“I only want her,” whispered Pip. 

Pip begins licking grease and barbeque sauce residue from her fingers sloppily. Mae smooths a crease out of her gown. Perhaps this time Pip could handle her excitement, tame her desire. Perhaps her affection was no longer a liability. 

“It’s about time we go, Mae. Everyone’s getting off work, remember?” urged Pip. “Mom says we can’t be here once the others come.”

“Wash your hands first,” replied Mae.

Once Pip is out of sight, Mae gestures for Jordan, her and Pip’s usual waitress. Jordan sports a gown made of black tulle and paired with a baseball cap with “Tommy’s” sprawled across it. 

“She is kind and gentle. She wouldn’t hurt anyone,” explained Mae. “Not on purpose.”

“Yes,” said Jordan, handing her the check. “And I don’t want her to hurt. She doesn’t deserve that.”

Pip and Mae leave. Soon, the tables at Tommy’s Sports Grill will fill up with equally glamorous people, all drinking beer and messily eating finger food without regard for their spiffy attire.

One month later, Pip and Mae gather for their routine Tuesday afternoon meal at Tommy’s. This time however, Pip sits at the bar alone while Mae paces the floor. Pip’s gown is badly torn, stained with dirt and drenched in blood. 

“I don’t understand her,” exclaimed Pip. “When she eats, her tongue thrusts out, and sucks food in. Her eyes are huge and sprinkled with tiny, little mirrors inside. And her face is so furry. I just wanted to stroke it softly and be close to her. That’s all, Mae.”

Behind them, a familiar brass sequence blasts on a TV.  The title card Sports Today with Aaron Adams flashes onto the screen. His body is chiseled and handsome. He has the head of a beetle. 

“She told me she would never love a thing as vile as I,” recounted Pip. “I tried to hug her but I was too strong. I held her too tight. Her eyes popped and her body fell and she started to bleed. She began to shake and I couldn’t stop it.”

Mae wraps her arms around Pip. She rocks her back and forth, the way their mother did when they were babies. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt her, Mae,” sobbed Pip.

“I know, Pip. I know,” Mae replied. 

Sirens blare and the flashing of blue and red lights grow brighter. Jordan hands Mae a check. Jordan gestures behind her and signaling officers to file in. 

“She didn’t do it on purpose,” whispered Mae.