Strangely Normal by Tess Oliver

inability to turn off the charms and magnetism,” she quipped, “we’d be eating some awesome quiche or cheese soufflé right now. Tanya was a talented chef.”
    I lifted my brow at her. “Seriously?”
    “Well, except for that whole spit thing.”
    I laughed. “I can just imagine your brother’s face when he walked in on that. Lucky for him his timing was good.”
    We both fell silent and simultaneously put our pizza slices down. “Lost my appetite, how about you?” Finley asked.
    “Yeah, I think I’m done too.”
    Tiny hooves clattered across the kitchen floor, and Some Pig trotted from around the counter where Finley had poured some food into a dish. He stared up at us and wiggled his snout a couple of times.
    “All done with dinner?” Finely leaned down and kissed the tip of his head. “Sleep tight.”
    Then Some Pig turned and trotted out of the kitchen, curly tail raised high in the air.
    “Dinner always makes him sleepy,” Finley explained.
    “Was his earring inspired by a pirate movie?” I asked.
    “No, but at the farm they’d tagged his ear, and he had an ugly hole there to remind him of the awful place he came from. So I put an earring in one day just for fun. Man, did he squeal like a pig when I tried to take it back out.”
    “I think it suits him.
    “Apparently, he thinks so too.” She picked up the plates and put them in the sink. “Hey, I know,” she said enthusiastically, “let’s go down to the theater and watch a horror flick. Ooh, let’s watch the original Halloween .”
    “Is that the creep in the hockey mask?”
    “Wrong psycho. But I think the Michael Myer’s mask is even creepier.”
    “Sounds fun. I don’t see many movies, and when I do, there are talking starfish and singing mermaids. But I’ve got to ask— are all of your pets feeling content with their names right now?”
    Finley smiled and took my arm to lead me down to the theater. “I think they’re all satisfied at the moment, but I don’t blame you for asking. I once had a parrot and after one night in the theater, he insisted we call him Hannibal.”
    We stopped in front of a shiny silver door. “You have an elevator. There’s a friggin’ elevator in your house.”
    Finley tapped the down button three times and the doors opened. “Kind of eccentric, I agree.” We stepped inside and the door slid shut. “And now for your listening pleasure— elevator music.” She hummed loudly and I joined her until my laughter prevented it. After an extremely short journey down, the door slid open. I followed her down a dimly lit hallway to a set of ornately carved wooden doors. She pushed a switch and the door opened.
    “Holy shit.” I looked around in awe. “I thought it would be a nice couch in front of one of those really big television sets. This is a theater. Actually, this is way nicer than any theater I’ve ever been in. And I’ll bet I won’t be leaving here with a piece of spitty licorice stuck to my butt or a candy wrapper on my shoe.”
    Finley started down the richly carpet aisle and pointed to a pair of seats in the front. “These have the best view.”
    I sat down in the plush chair. “And there won’t be any kids running between the rows or annoying people kicking my seat or rattling loud wrappers or crunching popcorn loudly.”
    Finley laughed. “Wow, you’ve really had some traumatic movie experiences.” She walked up to a control panel and pressed some buttons. The monitor in front of her lit up. “So is Halloween all right?”
    “Sure. I haven’t seen too many movies, so anything is good.”
    The movie started up and the surround sound shook the room. Finley sat next to me and reached over to the arm of my chair. She hit a button and the chair reclined back as the legs lifted up. “There’s a popcorn machine if you want any snacks.”
    “I’m still full from pizza. This chair is so comfy, I could easily sleep in it.”
    “I fall asleep in here all the time.” She laughed.