Chapter Two: Green on the Tavern

 

Chapter Two: Green on the Tavern

            “I don’t know how I let ya’ll talk me into comin’ here.”

            75-year-old Alice Green curmudgeonly gawked at the menu for what seemed like hours, trying to figure out what half of the items were. Gusteau’s was one of those high-class restaurants in New York City and a far cry from better joints like Pizza Planet or Hoots (Alice’s favorite hangout spot). But, of course, her 40-year-old son Bill wanted to pick a fancy restaurant for their “fancy dinin’ night out” (as he called it), a very rare event for them and Bill’s two children (Alice’s grandchildren), Tilly and her little brother Cricket.

            It didn’t make a lick of sense to Alice. They weren’t even dressed fancy, standing out like a sore thumb amidst the other diners that wore expensive suits and dresses that glittered, gazing on the Greens judgmentally.

            “Aw, c’mon, Ma,” Bill pleaded to her. “Give the place a chance. I heard their chef is one of the finest in the city!”

            “Gloria says he comes right outta that place she likes so much,” Cricket attributed.

            “And they have all this free bread shaped like little seashells,” Tilly indicated the complimentary bowl of croissants that was placed on their table shortly after they sat down. She even placed one of them to her ear, as if it were a real seashell.

            “Well, it ain’t my type of shindig,” Alice panned. “I can’t even pronounce half the foods they got on this menu!”

            Bill had to admit himself that he found the menu a little overwhelming, not for the same reasons as her mother but mainly for the outrageously high prices. A hundred dollars for bouillabaisse – whatever that is!

            Unbeknownst to the Greens, they were being watched by the co-owner of the restaurant, Colette Tatou. She and her husband, Alfredo Linguini, were the only two people that worked in the kitchen, also every now and then waiting tables. Although Linguini was the primary chef, his “talents” was mostly due to his “Little Chef,” a bluish-gray rat with a passion for food. From atop Linguini’s head, the Little Chef tugged his curly red hair, controlling his body like a puppet. Of course, it was a secret that hardly anyone but Colette knew about, and Linguini kept the rat hidden beneath his chef hat.

            When Colette first discovered Linguini’s little rat friend, she was furious and disgusted. Yet she eventually warmed to the skilled rodent’s cooking and even learned a few new tricks from him that helped make Gusteau’s the finest restaurant in New York. So, one such as Colette herself would not be so quick to judge another by appearances.

            Unfortunately, she did just that over the Green family. “That bumpkin family,” she uttered to Linguini with her distinct French accent. “They’ll drive away our customers with their…their…rural stink!”

            “I-I think you’re being too harsh, Colette,” Linguini practically braved himself to tell her. He was barely able to glance at her, trying not to disturb the momentum Little Chef developed through him as they whipped up some crab bisque for one of their patrons.

            “Too harsh? Too harsh?!” Colette fired back. “Look at them!” She peeked through the double doors that swung into the kitchen. “I doubt they have the money to pay for the meal we’ll prepare for them!”

            “Well, I did say we should mark down the prices,” Linguini said.

            “And lose the amazing revenue we’ve built? Never!”

            “Whatever you say, my sweet,” Linguini conceded in the brief dispute. “Hey, would ya grab some tomatoes outta the pantry?”

            His request was the only thing that pried her away from spying on the Greens much longer. She went inside their perfectly stocked pantry to retrieve the tomatoes Linguini required. But, as soon as she turned on the light, she was met with an unsettling sight: the pantry had been completely ransacked! Green ooze dripped from all over the shelves, dousing half-eaten perishables and other vital ingredients.

            And the culprit was still there!

            Floating right in front of Colette and consuming an entire bottle of wine was a revolting, slimy green specter. After consuming the wine, it let out a massive belch that in turn emitted a horrendous odor that reeked of soured milk and rotten eggs. Colette was unsure of whether she wanted to scream or throw up. Neither reaction mattered as soon as the foul specter had realized she found him and escaped by phasing through the wall, leaving behind a trail of the same green ooze that drenched the entire pantry.

            It was then that she decided to scream, loud enough to scare Linguini (and the Little Chef) out of cooking. “What?! What is it?!” Linguini asked.

            “Something has been in our pantry!” Colette exclaimed.

            “W-What kind of ‘something’? A rat?” Linguini felt a rough tug on his hair that made him involuntarily slap himself in the face. Clearly having offended his little puppeteer, he clarified, “Present company excluded, of course.”

            “I think it was a fantôme!”

            The translation wasn’t lost on Linguini. “A ghost?! Y-Y-You saw a ghost?!” He immediately went for the smartphone in his pocket. “W-We gotta call ‘em!”

            Colette frowned in question. “Who are you calling?”

            “The Ghostbusters,” Linguini said as his thumb frantically scrolled over the screen. “I just need to find their number.” In the middle of his search, Colette suddenly swiped the phone out of his hands. “What’re you doing?”

            “I don’t want those maniacs anywhere near our restaurant,” she ardently demanded. “Have you seen the property damage they’re capable of? I don’t want Gusteau’s to fall under the same fate!”

            The screams of wealthy paying customers lured Colette and Linguini out of the kitchen. They saw all the patrons scurry from their tables and out the front door, as soon as the nauseating ghost appeared in the dining area. Only the Greens remained, hiding under their table in fright. “I told you comin’ here was a big mistake,” Alice scolded Bill.

            “I know, Ma,” Bill whimpered. “I know!”

            Colette and Linguini were at a loss for how to deal with their unwanted guest, until they heard tires screeching outside their venue. And then, out of nowhere, the entire front entrance of Gusteau’s exploded within a hail of brick and mortar. Linguini was shaken (as was Little Chef, who he could feel trembling on top of his head). Colette was mortified at first, but that horror quickly turned to rage when she realized that it was a car that had driven through the restaurant entrance.

            Only it wasn’t just any car. It was the Ectomobile, the signature vehicle of the Ghostbusters. A vintage automobile that looked to have recently received a new paint job, judging from how polished the white-and-red body (brandishing their company logo on the driver and passenger side doors) was.

            “You called them?!” Colette angrily inquired to Linguini.

            “No, I didn’t,” Linguini innocently said. “They just…showed up on their own.”

            The Green family was fortunate not to have been under one of the tables that toppled over or smashed from the Ghostbusters’ explosive arrival. Cricket couldn’t have been any more ecstatic the moment that he laid eyes on the Ectomobile. “It’s them,” he cheered. “The Ghostbusters are here to save us!!”

            The doors of the Ectomobile swung open with its uniformed passengers stepping out of the vehicle – three stunningly gorgeous women and two bearded gentlemen. Cricket knew all their names, having seen them on the news since the day he, his father, and his sister moved into New York City.

            Jacqueline Zeddemore was one of the two members of the team that didn’t hold a doctorate, yet she made up for it with street smarts and past combat experience. Some have cited her as being the straightforward member of the team, having a no-nonsense, down-to-earth kind of attitude that was a stark contrast to her fellow Ghostbusters.

            Dr. Sean Spengler was the team’s resident brainiac and tech support, having supplied the Ghostbusters with their iconic ghost-catching equipment and upgraded them to peak efficiency. A rather stoic, expressionless type of man, he wasn’t exactly a “people person” and kept to himself most of the time. Growing out his beard might’ve added to that cold, deadpan exterior.

            Dr. J.G. Stantz was the light-hearted member of the team, displaying childlike enthusiasm over his profession at times. He was the literal and figurative “heart” of the Ghostbusters, providing a bit of humanism to a group whose purpose was to fight monsters bent on destroying or dominating the world. He also was a bit of a romantic (presumably in the “hopeless” variety), having been in two relationships that ended in heartbreak. Nevertheless, his love of being a parapsychologist and a Ghostbuster had never waned.

            Clary Fray was a new addition to the team, hired just a year ago. Not much was publicly known about her, as she always eluded the attention of the press through some peculiar means. From what Cricket saw of her up close there at Gusteau’s, he could see that she had an exotic-looking tattoo on her neck. He had no idea what it represented or what it meant, just that it was one of Clary’s most distinguishing features, next to her fiery red hair.

            Last but not least was Dr. Natalie Venkman – the one member of the Ghostbusters team that Cricket had the biggest crush on (though he dared not to let his family or even his friends in on that secret). He could practically smell the sweet rose-scented perfume she wore as she and her teammates strode past them.

            “Cricket, why you makin’ that weird face?” he heard Tilly ask him.

            It hadn’t occurred to him that he even made such a face while staring at Natalie Venkman. Beyond embarrassed, he slapped the expression off his face and denied to his big sister, “What weird face? I ain’t makin’ no weird face! You must be seein’ things!”

            “I suppose so,” Tilly accepted. “But I did see you makin’ a face.”

            “Tilly, would you keep quiet!” Cricket deferred. “I’m watchin’ the Ghostbusters bein’ the heroes that they are!”

            Of course, the Ghostbusters weren’t exactly doing much of anything at the moment – except for arguing. “What kind of parking is that, Venkman?!” Jacqueline indicated the Ectomobile sitting in the dining area.

            “Hey, I told ya’ll I don’t drive stick!” Natalie retorted.

            “Regardez ce que vous avez fait à notre restaurant!” Colette rebuked the Ghostbusters in her native French tongue.

            Natalie could only blink a few times in question before turning to J.G. and saying, “You wanna translate for us, dude?”

            He gave her a less-than-enthused look. “I speak Spanish, not French, Venkman.”

            “I said…you’ve ruined our restaurant!” Colette translated.

            “Ma’am,” Clary politely addressed, “We’re very sorry for the damage. We promise that we’ll—”

            Her kind reassurance was intruded just as Natalie snatched up a T-bone steak leftover from one of the deserted tables. She whistled as if calling on a dog and shouted to the heavens in a singsong, “Here, Slimer, Slimer, Slimer! Got a nice, succulent treat for ya!” She then addressed J.G. and Sean in a whisper, instructing them, “Get into position. He’s comin’.”

            Natalie knew Slimer better than the rest of them. Their rivalry went as far back as their first-ever bust at the Tipton Hotel where the disgusting blob first slimed her. It was a disturbing experience that Natalie had not forgotten in 15 years. And now she found herself once again hunting for the spud.

            Sure enough, Slimer took the bait, phasing through a wall near where the Greens were hiding. Frightened, they sunk deeper into their hiding spot, while Stantz and Spengler opened fire on Slimer and ensnared him in their proton streams. The act overexcited Cricket to the point where he cheered, “Yeah! Caught ‘im!”

            “Here comes the trap,” Clary alerted her teammates before tossing the Ghost Trap itself onto the floor. It rolled to a stop right underneath Slimer. Clary waited until the right moment to stomp her boot-clad foot on the hydraulic foot pedal, opening the trap and sucking Slimer directly into it.

            The whole thing was over in seconds. Linguini was flabbergasted at how proficient of a job the team did. “Wow,” he uttered with applause. “That was…”

            “Impressive, yes, whatever,” Colette passively said. “Now, about the damage you caused to our front door…”

            But the aggravated Frenchwoman was once again interrupted when Spengler suddenly asked, “Where are the others?”

            His inquiry baffled the restaurant owners. “Others?!”

            As it soon turned out, Gusteau’s wasn’t infected with just one Slimer. A dozen more emerged through the walls of the dining area, much to the disgusted terror of Colette and Linguini.

            The Ghostbusters, on the other hand, weren’t the least bit inundated.

            “Looks like we just went into overtime,” Natalie said with a smirk before she snapped her black-gloved fingers – a signal for another party of individuals who had accompanied them on the bust.

            The rear door of the Ectomobile opened and a quartet of colorful, punkish teens jumped out from the back of the vehicle. Colette, Linguini, and the Greens knew these youths as the four descendants of the Ghostbusters’ greatest enemies (or at least two of them) – once determined to ruin the team but now allied with them. Mal, Evie, Carlos, and Jay were their names.

            “Hit us with that battle music!” Natalie ordered the youths, prompting Carlos to conjure up a beatbox out of thin air that played energetic pop music that fueled the Ghostbusters’ drive in eliminating the Slimer battalion. Each Ghostbuster displayed prowess that looked impossible with the heavy equipment that they lugged around on their bodies. Clary especially showed footwork not seen in most other Ghostbusters, like she’d fought more than ghosts her whole life. Even the way she wielded her Proton Gun – it was more like a sword than its actual functional design.

            It was even too much for her teammates, with Jacqueline needing to tell her, “Clary! Watch your stream! You nearly took my face off!”

            “Sorry,” the newbie sheepishly acknowledged her mistake. She then resorted to the basic tactics she learned in her Ghostbuster training: maintaining a firm stance and an even firmer grip on her neutrona wand (the fancier term for the Proton Gun).

            In spite of that, the team still managed to cause even heavier property damage across Gusteau’s dining area. Enormous holes were blown into walls, scorch marks all over the ceiling, expensive chandeliers crashing down, and every window and skylight shattered. Every bit of it drove Colette beyond the point of sanity.

            What started out as a dull night out for the Green family became an evening of excitement with their “front row seat” of the musical ghost-busting action. But they soon found themselves part of that action when one of the Slimers manifested atop the table that they hid under, forcing them out.

            “Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh!” Cricket repeated in his panic. He ran in a different direction than the rest of his family, caught in the middle of the battlefield that used to be a dining area. He leapt over proton streams, was temporarily blinded by a few opened Ghost Traps, and nearly avoided being slimed twice.

            The one Slimer that terrorized him and his family was in hot pursuit of him. He ran as fast as his bare feet could carry him until he found security in cowering behind one of the Ghostbusters (he was too scared to see which one it was).

            “Save me, save me, save me!” he pleaded to the Ghostbuster, who had no problem in capturing what was the last remaining Slimer.

            Cricket was relieved to have been saved.

            “You O.K., hon?” asked the Ghostbuster who saved him. Cricket recognized the voice – it was a woman’s that sounded super attractive and had a slight southern drawl close to his own. He looked right up at his rescuer and was stricken to find that it was none other than Natalie Venkman.

            “I’m…uh…I’m…uh…I’m…uh…” Cricket stammered.

            “He’s makin’ that weird face again,” Tilly observed from nearby with the rest of the Green family, standing amidst the wreckage left in the aftermath of the Ghostbusters’ battle with the Slimer battalion.

            “Well, that wasn’t such a chore now, was it?” J.G. triumphantly reflected.

            “It wouldn’t have been such a ‘chore’ if you two geeks hadn’t multiplied that little spud with your crazy machine!” Jacqueline derided Stantz and Spengler.

            “The Dimensional Diverter does have a few kinks that need ironing out,” J.G. admitted. “But you gotta give us credit on the successful reproduction of a single spectral entity. Who else can do that?”

            “I pray to God Almighty no one but you,” the exasperated Natalie remarked.

            The devastation of Gusteau’s rendered Colette utterly speechless. Linguini, on the contrary, had never been more articulate as he expressed his immense appreciation for the Ghostbusters’ services. “That was amazing!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “We owe you guys a free meal for such an incredible job!”

            Colette was in such a state of shock that she almost didn’t catch the generous offer her husband and co-partner made to the people that destroyed their restaurant.

            “That’s a sweet deal,” Mal said on everyone’s behalf. “But we have one request.”

            “Name it,” Linguini was quick to oblige.

            Evie and Clary joined at Mal’s side when she requested, “We wanna see him.”

            Linguini grew very nervous. “Uh…see who?”

            “Oh, c’mon,” Evie said with a smirk. “We know you’re hiding him there under your hat. Let’s see him.”

            Mal, Evie, and Clary were persistent. They weren’t going to let up until Linguini removed his hat. He figured there could’ve been no harm in doing so. The three girls weren’t food critics or health inspectors. After some slight hesitation, he took off his hat, revealing Little Chef to the joy of Mal, Evie, and Clary.

            “Awwwwwww!” they gushed.

            “He’s so cute,” Clary said.

            It wasn’t the usual reaction the Little Chef anticipated…but he’ll take it.