Mrs. Smith found an article detailing the body measurements of the world’s top models and decided these bodies were too thin. She wanted to resemble a violin, not a flute.Throughout the centuries, the human male had changed little. His attention was easily captured by long, lustrous hair, plump lips, the swell of high breasts, and the undulating sway of full hips.
After stacking a pile of photos on one corner of the hot tub, Mrs. Smith willed her vocal cords to adapt to a human voice and then poked at the illuminated number keys on her phone.
“Lord & Taylor, this is Mindy, how may I help you?”
“Hello,” Mrs. Smith croaked. Recalling the clarity and softness of a female voice the humans seemed to find appealing, she began to talk in a perfect semblance to Julie Andrews. “I would like to speak with the individual in charge of personal shopping.”
“That would be Muriel O’Connell. Please hold while I get her on the line.”
Mrs. Smith shifted, causing water to sluice over the edge of the hot tub and soak the magazine pages she’d set aside. The ink began to bleed, seeping into the tub water like fluids leaking from a pestilent corpse.
Irritated, Mrs. Smith flicked them off the ledge with the barbed tip of a tentacle.
“Hello, this is Muriel O’Connell. How may I be of service?”
“My name is Mrs. Smith. I am recently recovered from a long illness, rendering my previous wardrobe obsolete. I require an immediate replacement. Time is of the essence, and money is of no consequence. Do you possess a writing implement?”
After a brief pause, Muriel said, “I have a pen.”
“Then I’ll begin with my measurements.”
She rattled off the numbers and explained that she preferred pieces designed by Christian Dior. “Of paramount importance is a cocktail dress. I have a particular item in mind. A size four would be suitable as long as it can be tailored to my measurements.”
“Certainly.”
Mrs. Smith was pleased. This Muriel person was as pliable as seaweed. All servants were the same. The slightest whiff of a generous gratuity and they’d grovel like the weakest puppy of the litter.
Mrs. Smith had learned to be generous with her servants. Hers had always been an unusual house. Wherever she lived, there were locked rooms containing oversized bathtubs filled with salt water and at least one indoor pool. Many areas were off-limits to staff. Anyone caught breaking her rules would live to regret it.
Disobedient servants were dealt with swiftly and severely. Mrs. Smith would spread word of their untrustworthy nature among the gentry, ensuring they’d never find employment with the upper classes again. If the recalcitrant servant had children, she’d kill one if not all of them. That was all it took for the rest of her staff to fall into line.
As Muriel struggled to keep up, Mrs. Smith listed her needs. She wanted cocktail dresses, frilly sundresses, leisure wear, delicate lingerie, string bikinis, wide-brimmed hats, sunglasses, stilettos, Capezios, oversized earrings, colorful necklaces, chunky bracelets, wide belts, and handbags. She wanted makeup, hair products, and multiple fragrances.
“I need everything delivered to my house. I have a condition that prevents me from driving.”
“Oh.” Muriel’s voice deflated. “In that case, we would have to ship everything to your home. I’m afraid we don’t deliver.”
“I’d compensate the driver two hundred dollars for the inconvenience.”
“Oh?” Muriel repeated with renewed enthusiasm.
Mrs. Smith recited her address and phone number and then informed Muriel that she would write a check for the total amount.
Muriel said, “It’ll take a few days to get everything together.”
Irritated, Mrs. Smith gripped the phone headset so hard that it began to crack. “I need the everyday items tomorrow. If you can expedite the process, I’d be most grateful.”
Perhaps Muriel heard the hard edge of Mrs. Smith’s tone and, fearing she might lose her biggest sale of the year, haltingly explained that the tailoring department couldn’t even begin altering the items until they’d been paid for.
Mrs. Smith imagined curling her tentacles around Muriel’s body and squeezing until the woman’s ribs snapped. She hated entering the human world. She hated their rules and customs. Their ever-changing manner of speech. They rarely spoke plainly or truthfully. They flattered, lied, obfuscated, and deflected. They were a selfish, grasping species, and the sooner she could create another of her kind, the sooner she and her offspring could destroy more humans and the structures and vessels dumping poison into the oceans.
“Very well,” she grumbled. “If you can provide me with a figure, I will write a check and have it delivered into your hands today.”
Again, Muriel faltered. “I do apologize, Mrs. Smith, but when dealing with such large amounts, we usually wait for the check to clear before starting on the tailoring. It’ll take two days. Three at most.”
Anger swept through Mrs. Smith’s body, electrifying her newly empowered cells. She could morph into a human form right now, call a taxicab, and travel to the department store. She could hunt down this Muriel woman and punish her for putting obstacles in her path.
She could drag her into a storage or fitting room and crush her skull between her hands. Even in her human form, Mrs. Smith was formidable. She would take great pleasure in killingthis insipid creature. She would bite her flesh while the woman was still alive. She would paint the walls with her blood.
