“It was nice.” My fingers began to spark and I was ready to rumble. If he wanted some, he could have it.
“WAS NOT,” he insisted as his eyes began to shoot flames.
“What is so bad about admitting that you cared enough not to fry a bunch of innocent humans and that you have respect for architecture from the 1700s?” I demanded.
“It was a pussy move,” he grunted. “Something a Vampyre would have done.”
“It’s not pussy to care about the sanctity of human life,” I shot back. “I’d say it’s brave.”
“You would,” he replied tartly. “Because you’re a pussy.”
“And you’re a dick,” I countered.
He eyed me with disdain. “I’d rather be a cock than a vagina.”
“Considering, I’m the one with the cock and you’re the one with the vagina at the moment, that’s rich.”
He was pissed. “Don’t start none and there won’t be none, Astrid,” he threatened.
I shrugged. He was playing jump rope with my last nerve. “I’m gonna kick your rusty dusty up into your esophagus, Uncle Fucker.”
At the rate we were going, we were getting no closer to solving the problem and getting our own genitals back. Gigi was seriously on my shit list. We stood face to face in what amounted to a standoff. It could end many ways. Violence being the most obvious. The Demon was furious to be called nice. I was furious that he wouldn’t accept that it was fine to do the right thing occasionally.
“You know…” Lizard commented, casually stepping in between us while rolling his bat nonchalantly in his hands. “This reminds me of the time I kicked Wipe’s ass at Costco five years ago.”
The Demon clearly had a death wish. My uncle and I were two of the most powerful and deadly Immortals in the Universe. Getting in the middle of a smackdown was a risk. Lizard was like a honey badger. He didn’t give a shit. If the goal was to lightenthe tension, he’d succeeded. The Demon had definitely gotten our attention.
“Costco?” I asked, relaxing just a bit. “Like the discount store, Costco?”
“Yep. The one and only. I go about once a month. Great deals on mayo and bagels,” Lizard continued. “Wipe told me I had champagne taste and an ass face just because I wanted to borrow a buck fifty for a hotdog and a drink.”
“Rude,” Satan snapped, invested in the story. “So, what happened?”
I was still baffled that Lizard shopped at Costco.
“I told the shit stain that he was a greedy puritanical goblin bunghole and all heck broke loose in the frozen food aisle. We went at it. I informed him that freedom of speech don’t mean freedom of consequences with a solid right hook to his ugly mug.”
While Lizard’s words about consequences were profound, I was still stuck on imagining Lizard buying monster-sized jars of peanut butter.
“Oh my!” Martha said, swooning.
She and Jane thought fistfights were sexy. They participated often.
“Now, Wipe came back with a scissor kick to my head that made me see stars,” Lizard imparted with a grin. “Dang near knocked my brain right out of my ears. But I hopped back up, grabbed a bag of frozen prunes from the shelf and shoved one into each ear hole and put the rest of the bag under my beret on account that my head had swollen up like a bowling ball for a giant!”
I wasn’t sure he had any gray matter in his brain at this point.
Lizard leaned in. We all did too. No matter how strangely this tale ended, I wasn’t about to miss a word.
“Then… I ripped him a new asshole.”
“Literally?” Satan questioned.
“Yeppers. Three times. That motherfucker is the proud owner of four assholes.”
I held up my hand. It was impossible not to. It was a given that I’d regret it. “You said you ripped him a new asshole three times. How did Wipe have four assholes if you only ripped three?” I was super pissed at myself for even asking the question. Whatever.
“Fine point. Well made,” Satan agreed. “I too do not comprehend how Wipe had four assholes.”
