Trapper Rick squatted down and gently pulled Critter Steve to a sitting position. I was happy to see he was already healing. “We trap critters—skunks, racoons, pole cats and the such. Hence our nicknames, Critter Steve and Trapper Rick. We call our company, Stank No More.”
“Yes,” Critter Steve confirmed, then shook his head in sorrow. “Sadly, the printer screwed up our business cards. They say, Skank No More. We’ve got fifty thousand of them.”
I sucked back a laugh. The man was seriously upset. “I’m quite sure that getting you new business cards will not be an issue.”
“Thank you, my liege,” he replied perking up.
“Have you crazy bastards ever been skunked?” Wipe asked, impressed with their chosen profession.
Trapper Rick chuckled. “Many times. But we don’t have a sense of smell. It was burned from our noses when we worked as night soil men.”
“What the fuck?” Wipe shouted, horrified. “You guys shoveled shit back in the olden days?”
They nodded. “For a century. It was our punishment.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Satan’s head fall to my chest. He slowly lifted his chin and approached the Demons. “What exactly did you do that you were sent to the cesspits?”
The two Demons glanced over at me with uncertainty. “Go on,” I insisted. “Tell Astrid what you did.”
I wanted to know as much as my idiot uncle wanted to know.
“Well, umm…” Critter Steve said carefully, keeping his eyes on the Devil who he believed to be me. “Satan had tried on some purple pantaloons and umm…” He looked to his buddy imploringly.
Trapper Rick jumped in even though it was clear it was the last thing he wanted to do. “Yes, the Lord of Darkness was modeling his purple pantaloons and umm… asked if his ass looked big.”
I sucked in a breath. There was no way…
“And,” Critter Steve continued with a pained wince. “We, unfortunately, were honest.”
Trapper Rick looked like he wanted to puke. “We told him his ass did look big and the rest is history.”
“Excuse me,” Satan hissed. He marched over to the far wall of the snooker parlor and blasted it.
The wall fell along with the rest of the building around us. No one was injured. We’d already been there and done that. The Devil marched back over and got in my face. “How could you have sent these men to the cesspits for something so fucking stupid?”
It took me a good minute to realize that Uncle Fucker was asking for help. He would never be able to truly apologize for such a terribly selfish and God-awful mistake… but I could. And he wanted me to.
I tilted my head and laced my hands together in front of me. I knew it had to sound like Uncle Fucker and not me. However, he’d asked me in the rudest way possible to fix his fuckup. Icould do it my way and show him that doing the right thing wasn’t so bad.
“Gentlemen,” I said. “It appears that I grossly misjudged the situation. I must have been having a bad day, or perhaps, a brain aneurysm. I greatly regret what was done to you, and I’m sorry.”
“What?” Satan demanded. “That’s all you have to say, jackass?”
I shrugged and glared at him. “What doyouthink I should say, ass-face?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” he snapped, throwing his hands in the air. “What the Devil meant is that he’s a dick. A colossal ass. He was born that way. He comes by his dickish behavior naturally. However, upon reflection, which he is not known to do very often, he feels like a total fuck for sending you to be night soil men. His ego is large. Granted, with his devastatingly good looks, stunning personality and huge cock, it’s no surprise that his self-esteem is healthy, but according to Sogdroth, his shitass therapist, he needs to get his ego in check. Also, side note, he regrets vowing not to disembowel Sogdroth. If either of you would like to disembowel Sogdroth, he would be fine with that.”
“Umm, no,” I warned him. “Getting a little off track here.”
“My bad,” Satan said, tossing what was left of my long curly locks over his shoulder. “So, in summation, Satan feels bad that he was a dick to you. To make it right, since you also endeavored to protect his son, he shall give you each ten million dollars, new business cards, houses, cats, dogs and an invitation to his castle in Hell to sup with him, his mate, Elle, and their son, Luke, every Tuesday for the next decade.”
Critter Steve, Trapper Rick, Lizard, Wipe,and Satanall stared at me. I gave them a thumbs up. “Astrid took the words from my mouth,” I announced grandly.
“Show them your cock,” Satan added. “A deal is a deal.”
I rolled my eyes and pulled down the gray track pants gingerly, so I didn’t have to touch anything that would make me vomit. I let them fall to the floor. Unfortunately, there was the issue of the underpants. I was not touching them. Not today. Not ever.
“Lizard,” I called out. “Need a little help here.”
