CHAPTER 3
Me and Gaston are buddies, roomies, cousins! I have a duty to him! I want to see him happy.
He's in love, that he definitely is. But he's not thought this thing out! I guess it's because he hasn't had much experience with these kinds of things. I've known Gaston my whole life and I've never seen him in love before. He's had plenty of interested parties through the years, but it was a shock to everyone when I was the first one to get a girlfriend.
Ah! My sweet Isabelle! I still sigh when I think of her. Beautiful as a cow. She complained that the way Gaston was treating her was unbearable. And I guess it was — girls aren't used to that kind of teasing and roughhousing that us old boys get into. In effect, he ran her off. I remember after she dumped me, Gaston was trying to comfort me, laughing and making jokes, and he clapped me on the back and said to me, "LeFou, you really are something, getting into a state like this over a girl. I've seen dead animals wash up in the gutter that are better looking than her. She's done you a favor by dumping you! Now if you're really going to jump off this precipice just do it right now or else we're going to be late for drinks with Stanley, and jeez, can't you knock off all that annoying weeping and screaming?"
Thing was, he grew up without a father, and his mom died when he was a teenager. So my pop warned that we had to look out for him — he was going to get himself into trouble otherwise. That was why the family sent me to help out Gaston after things got bad for him.
And I'm thinking, this is one of those times where I have to look out for Gaston.
Still, I've gone ahead with what he told me to do — I've made the wedding arrangements. There's a lot of overlap between the guest list and the people who were willing to provide services on such short notice. The Gautier girls, Lolo, Dodo and Joujou, have been setting up tables and chairs and are ready to serve food while screamingly weeping. Poor girls — they all are in love with Gaston and had hoped he would pick at least one or two of them for a wife, but, like me, they feel a duty to Gaston even when he's against them. He has that effect on you.
Well, on most, anyway. Thing is, I'm pretty sure Belle of all people is not going to go for any of this, and Gaston's too blinded by the flames of passion to see how she's neither interested or interesting. Seriously — she reads books! You know how boring he'll find her? The only time I ever saw Gaston pick up a book, it was to show off that he could rip an encyclopedia in half with his bare hands.
But here he is now, coming toward us, looking dashing in his fancy suit that he got in Toulouse. He considers that place the height of sophistication — I've never been, myself, but if they have classy outfits like that then it must be something.
"Oh, boy. Belle's going to get the surprise of her life, eh, Gaston?" I say, trying to stay upbeat, because I know the festive mood's not going to last.
"Yep! This is her lucky day!" says Gaston. He swoops away quickly, causing a branch to whack me in the face and fill my mouth with leaves. Gaston lets the assembling crowd know that he needs to go into the house and propose to the girl, then he reminds me that when he and Belle come out the door, I'm to strike up the band.
We all wait a few minutes. Then, as promised, soon as I see the door open, I strike up the band.
But the situation is bad — worse than I thought. See, our wedding band is standing near a livestock pond. It's not really anywhere near the house. Yet Gaston's somehow been flung in an L-shaped direction out the front door, across the steps, walkway and field, and into this pond from hundreds of feet away. Man, no one falls like Gaston!
I move the band to pipe down, and I turn to check on him.
"So, how'd it go?" I ask.
I'm not surprised by his reaction. He comes flying out of the mud, yanks me up by the throat, says something about Belle, then tosses me into the puddle and storms off.
"Touchy!" I remark, once he's out of earshot. The pig at my side snorts his agreement.
The guests are variously sorry, amused or delighted. The Gautier girls are actually singing in joy, hands locked and dancing in a little merry-go-round. Jeannot, who we call Limey Bastard because he brews English-style beer, is trying to describe to the priest the scientific process behind how Gaston was able to fall out the front door and land in a pond a hundred meters to the right of where he was ejected.
Stanley comes tapping me on the shoulder. "Say, LeGume," (that's what most people call me, if they're not Gaston or other family), "Can we still eat the cake and champagne?"
I try to think it out. I can't imagine Gaston's going to be happy to have the reminders of this failure at the house. "Sure," I say.
Soon all of us are sitting around in the field eating cake and champagne. The band plays us some songs — actually it is a pretty swell party! We start to take down the decorations, and while we are at it, we see Belle come bursting out of her house.
She is feeding chickens and muttering to herself, then begins singing aloud about how much she resents the idea of being "Madame Gaston." I assume she is singing at us, because no one else is around. She hurries round to the back of the house to escape all the empty champagne bottles and trash we're throwing at her, though she's too far away for anyone to hit her.
"The girl is just crazy," says Joujou Gautier, shaking her head. "Everyone in town knows it! I can't imagine why Gaston fell for her of all people!"
"Well," says Dodo Gautier, "she is pretty, you have to give her that. I'd kill for that skin. Like it's never been touched by mange!"
The girls all start muttering that Belle really does have fantastic skin.
"And she does have a figure like the dress models in Paris," says Lolo Gautier, "that tall, straight up and down. No rickets at all."
They agree, she is very free of rickets.
"And," adds Dodo, "I think she has all her teeth, like real teeth instead of wooden dentures like us!"
The girls all sigh and lament that Belle really is the prettiest in town.
"But what you girls forget," says Stanley, "is that beauty's more than skin or bone or mouth-deep. That arrogant girl, Belle, just goes around, acting like she's better than everyone because she reads more! She's always reading in your face, shouting 'Oh, isn't this amazing!' while you're shooting dice in the alley, then you end up throwing the dice on her book and she walks off with them. If she weren't under Gaston's protection, I'd teach her a lesson myself about humility."
"But that's why Gaston likes her," says Limey Bastard. "He might not know it himself, but that's why. It's not her beauty, it's her pride. He's a proud one, too. The pair of them absolutely belong together — "
At this point that big old Clydesdale that Belle's father rode out on comes racing back to the house — still with the wagon attached, but now without the father. Belle's gone out back by this time, so we don't get to see how she reacts.
"Looks like that crazy old coot got himself into another scrape!" I say when I see this. "Gaston's lucky he didn't have to be here to deal with his new papa-in-law's problem!"
"Where is Gaston, anyway?" asks the priest, drinking from one bottle of champagne and holding three others he was going to chuck at Belle till she left.
"Back at the house," I say. "He's probably cleaned up and simmered down by now. I should go check on him."
Lolo Gautier pipes up, "Oh! Let's all go!"
"Yes," say her sisters together, "We can cheer him up!"
This sentiment extends to the rest of the party; and so the entire gang goes across town to the house.
When we burst in, we find Gaston dressed in his usual outfit, donning all of his hunting equipment. He is standing in front of the full-length mirror, or rather leaning against it, face to face with his reflection and arms clinging to the frame. As usual. However, on this evening he looks sad and upset. Normally when he's at the mirror, he has a big grin and is posing with his weapons to see what he looks like to all the animals he kills.
"Hiya, Gaston…" I say very cautiously and very slowly, testing for his reaction.
Gaston hurls a chair at me.
The body-fat, I'm telling you — it just saved me from a concussion right there. See, I have a theory that my brain is mostly fat as well, and that's why I don't get hurt as bad as most people when they're clunked on the head. I'm always coming up with such theories. I'm smart like that. Fat smart, not big-brain smart.
"Aw, come on, Gaston," says Stanley. "You're not still sore about Belle, are you? Forget her!"
Gaston just shakes his head and leans himself against the mirror, staring eye to eye with his own reflection. "She's rejected me," is all he says, gloom seeping from each word. "Did I do something wrong? Do I need bigger pecs or something? What's wrong with me?!"
At that, he yanks the mirror from the wall and violently smashes it on the floor.
We're all stunned, and me more than the rest because I know Gaston best of any of them. I've only seen him this bad a couple times before, and both those times led to some pretty intense stuff. Hiding bodies level stuff. Yikes! His first heartbreak — and he's not taking it well.
Limey Bastard tries to step up. "The right girl for you is probably right under your nose, and you just haven't been hunting in the right places! Right? Right!"
The hunting metaphor seems to pique Gaston's interest. "And where do you propose I look?" he says, bitterly and making fists.
"Well," Limey Bastard says amiably, "you sure aren't going to find her in here. Come on! Let's go to the tavern! You know we get all the beer we can drink!"
Gaston and Limey Bastard own the tavern, you see. They get to do anything they want, it's their own building. Decorating with antlers, serving nothing but beer, offering seating on the chandeliers. Drinking the place dry would be nothing to them.
Still, Gaston doesn't seem like he's going for it. "I just want to stay and… think," he says.
I blow a raspberry. "Thinking!" I say. "That's what gets that brainiac girl to make dumb choices like refusing you!"
"Yeah," says Limey Bastard, coming towards Gaston and putting a friendly arm around him. "You don't need to think. You need alcohol to stop all those thoughts from taking over your beautiful mind!"
We all follow the lead of Limey Bastard and start gathering behind Gaston to put "friendly arms" around him all that seem to push his massive frame nearer and nearer to the door. Gaston's so downcast that he doesn't even resist.