by Mark Eller
* * * *
Nearly two hours and six frightened customers later the barmaid returned with a tall blond woman owning light green eyes. The new woman looked and smelled very different than either the bartender or the barmaid. Her dress was of a soft material and very yellow. She appeared disgustingly clean and neat. Her hands were small and soft, and she carried a large bag that was probably stuffed with all sorts of useless human junk. All in all, she looked nauseating, but Phrandex didn’t care as long as she tasted— no— no— was good with children.
Phrandex carefully bundled himself up and went to greet the boob mother. At first, the woman didn’t notice him because she was too busy squishing her face up at the filth and dirt on the tavern’s floor and tables.
“Is there a reason why My Lord Phrandex wants us to meet in this…” The woman seemed to be at a loss for words. Grimacing, she briefly closed her eyes, apparently unable to finish her sentence.
The barmaid fidgeted and wrung her hands. “I don’t know, missus. He just told me to bring ya here.”
Stepping closer, Phrandex bowed to the woman. “Good morning Miss—?”
“Miss Imalda will do, Lord Phrandex.” She curtsied and extended her hand.
Phrandex looked at it a moment and wasn’t sure if she was offering him a bite. He hoped not. The other milkmaid had tasted bad enough. He didn’t want to think about what the boob mother breed might taste.
The barmaid stepped back a bit, raised her hand to her mouth, and then kissed it. She motioned for Phrandex to do the same. Phrandex quickly kissed the woman’s hand, and just for good measure, gave it a quick lick. Not bad. Much better than the milkmaid. If she didn’t work out he could always feed her to the children a little sooner.
The woman quickly pulled her hand back and wiped the slobber off. “Are you from a foreign country, Lord Phrandex?”
She eyed him suspiciously. Maybe licking her wasn’t such a good first impression. “Sort of,” he replied. “Are you good at cooing?”
Imalda tilted her head and a curious look crossed her face. “Cooing?”
“Yes, you know, the sound you human’s— I mean mother’s— make when their children are crying. Are you good at soothing babies? And how about teething issues?” Sidling closer, Phrandex counted her boobs. There were only two. Shouldn’t a boob mother have more? Did she keep extras in the large bag she carried?
Scowling, the woman pulled herself rigid. “Lord Phrandex, I will have you know I am one of the best nursemaids in all of Yernden. I have no less than five letters of recommendation from the top three families in this city alone. Why, I could tame the children of Athos’s himself, sir.”
The woman looked down her nose at him and haughtily patted a stray hair back into her bun. She then proceeded to ‘hmmpf’ in a well-practiced way.
The blood in the barmaid’s face drained completely upon hearing this brag. It turned an odd shade of white.
Humans, Phrandex thought, really are amazing. Red, blue, now white!
Throwing back his hood, the devil smiled. “Excellent. Just what I wanted to hear, Miss Imalda. You’re hired.” Phrandex reached over, grabbed the woman around her waist and threw her over his shoulder.
The woman screamed, kicked, and then fainted. As Phrandex got to the kitchen door, the barman, Carrid, stumbled out. When he saw the devil, he immediately got out of the way.
Phrandex stopped and gazed at him. “You know, the next time one of my kind come up, try and be more helpful. And uh…” Phrandex drew closer, “…just so you know, boob mothers don’t have extra boobs.”
Carrid looked at the demon with a mixture of disbelief and fear, then scuttled back behind his bar.
Phrandex smiled. He grabbed his whiskey and headed for home. He couldn’t wait to show his little demons their new milkmaid.
