Her minions looked like even more disgusting versions of their leader, and they were playing obsessively on their phones.
The squat disaster of a director walked to the center of the stage. She nodded jerkily at her four bizarre looking little followers who were huddled in a clump and taking pictures of her with their phones. Then, the gross woman pointed at Bob the beaver who shook like a leaf.
Bob cleared his throat for a minute and a half. He desperately searched for more unibrow to pull out and came up empty. With a gulp of terror, he finally spoke. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Mae Blockinschlokinberg—the famed director of the musical Showgirls, the mimed production of Starship Troopers and of course, the twelve-hour interactive naked production of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. We are blessed, terrified and shocked beyond belief that Mae Blockinschlokinberg has graced Assjacket with her brilliance and artistry.”
“Naked production of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?” Zach grunted quietly with a laugh.
“Took the words right out of my mouth,” I whispered with a giggle. “However, I’m more curious about the mimed version of Starship Troopers.”
Zach’s grin made me tingle and feel strange inside. He’d always been kind to me—always been a loyal friend. However, this felt different.
Idiot. I was an idiot. My friend Zach was happy and relieved I was alive. Just like I was happy he was alive. Reading more into it was pitiful. He’d had ten years to make a move and hadn’t.
Sassy turned her back to Zach and leaned into me. “He’s not a hermaphrodite,” she informed me. “I have a radar for that.”
“You have a hermaphrodite radar?” I asked, wondering how insane Sassy truly was.
“Yes,” she confirmed. “If someone smells like a calla lily, they can do themselves. It’s the flower with a schlong and a va-jay-jay. It’s Canadian for, I can bang myself so I don’t need a significant other.”
“Umm… I thought you didn’t speak Canadian,” I choked out, losing my battle with holding in a laugh.
“Just a few words,” Sassy told me. “The guy sitting next to me who has no clue we’re talking about him is not a calla lily.”
“Good to know,” I said, avoiding Zach’s amused gaze for all I was worth.
Also, Sassy’s insanity was confirmed. She was batshit nuts, and I enjoyed the heck out of her. However, she needed to quit the matchmaker job. She sucked.
“Attention,” Mae Blockinschlokinberg shrieked in a voice that could break glass. “I have a few words to say to you lowly underlings.”
“Silence!” Bob bellowed. He'd graduated to plucking the hair on his head since he’d demolished his unibrow. “The great one speaks.”
Mae Blockinschlokinberg paced the stage as her four icky lackeys oohed and ahhed.
Again, I felt an uncomfortable foreboding sensation in my gut. Again, my radar could be skewed. It was definitely skewed—it seemed as if Zach was flirting with me. Ridiculous. I needed my head examined.
The director glared at poor Bob. Her beady eyes narrowed to slits. “No one is to make eye contact with me. No one is to disagree with me. And I need a snack table with eye of newt, tacos and Mountain Dew. Am I clear?”
Mae Blockinschlokinberg was a nasty piece of work. That had to be the reason for the icky feelings. I disliked people like her.
“Yes, your majesty,” Bob said bowing.
“What the heck is happening here?” I muttered. “That woman is an ass-pipe.”
“I love that word,” Sassy whispered. “Is it Puntreelish?”
“No, it’s Pissedoffish,” I replied. “Learned it from Zelda and thought it fit.”
“It fits perfectly,” Zach said, eyeing the woman with disgust.
Mae Blockinschlokinberg was just getting started. “So, beaver,” she said with a sneer. “I published your play to Cramanon last night.”
“WHAT?” Bob shrieked. “It was a rough first draft. It was nowhere near ready for publication.”
“Silence,” Mae Blockinschlokinberg snapped. “It’s your punishment for not pleasing me. After I published it under your name, I reported it.”
Mae Blockinschlokinberg’s foul posse cackled like idiots and hung on the disagreeable woman’s every word.
Bob paled and yanked most of the hair out of the left side of his head. “But… but… but I…”
“But nothing,” she snapped. “All great art is developed in humiliation, drunkenness, constipation and misery. I have helped you, you pathetic tree gnawer.”
“Total heinous cow sphincter,” I whispered.
“You’re speaking Swedish,” Sassy whispered back.
“Yep,” I said with a small grin. “Thanks to you, I am.”
“I barely know the guy, and I want to rescue him,” Zach said angrily. “I have half a mind to cover that abomination in boils.”
“Boils might be an improvement,” I muttered.
“As fun as that would be, don’t do it,” Sassy advised. “It would mess up the play, and the whole town would be devastated.”
“Explain,” Zach said through clenched teeth as he watched the horrible little woman terrify the masses.
“Okay,” Sassy said. “It’s like this, it’s totally cool to lose your shit because someone is being a dickwad. And I understand that if you hold your shit inside, you could become full of shit and then explode like a bomb and there will be shit everywhere—a shitstorm so to speak, which is the Hawaiian word for a stinky doody pile. And, I just don’t see how everyone covered in poopoo would help right now.”
“Sassy, you’re going to have to do better than that,” Zach said, closing his eyes and trying not to laugh.
“Right. I’ll speak a language you can understand. Hawaiian is difficult. I’ll speak British,” she said with a nod. “They already paid Mae Blockinschlokinberg the entire budget for two years. If there’s no show, the Assjacket Community Theatre will be ruined and become the laughing stock of the Tennessee Man-Titty Thespians. No one wants to be laughed at by the Tennessee Man-Titty Thespians. It’s a fate worse than death, according to Bob.”
Zach winced. “Sassy, is that really what they’re called? Seems kind of politically incorrect.”
“What? Thespians? Did you think I said Lesbian Man-Titties? Because I can see how that would be bad. Lesbians have woman-titties. So, no, I didn’t say Lesbian,” she explained to an aghast Zach.
“Umm… no,” I said, helping Zach out and digging the Sassy hole deeper. There was no telling what could come out of her mouth next. “The man-titties part.”
“Nope, that part is true,” she told us. “They have big bouncy man hooters.”
“Got it,” Zach said. “Very visual.”
Sassy nodded. “Thank you. I’m good like that. Anyhoo, Bob and Roger think the little blob is brilliant. I personally think they ate too many magical berries. However, as bulbous and disgusting as Mae Blockinschlokinberg is—which is Spanish for fucking wiener-faced skank folds fungus—if she gets fired, she’ll keep the money and we have no play. And on top of that stinky news, Bob is up for some international communist theatre award for this show. He says his life will be complete if he wins.”
“There’s an international communist theatre award?” I asked, confused.
“Totally,” Sassy confirmed. “The winner gets an all-expense-paid trip to a motel forty miles from the Jersey shore and a lifetime supply of ticket rolls to use for upcoming productions.”
I was speechless.
Zach was not. “Not sure the prize merits the abuse,” he said, eyeing the squat terror on the stage with disgust. “I’m done standing by when people are getting hurt.”
I was very aware of what he was talking about. He’d had no control when he was under the curse and had helplessly watched as Henrietta Smith had harmed and killed others. The curse had blocked him from stopping her. It had been a heavy load to carry. Zorro and I knew he hadn’t been at fault, but I also knew that Zach didn’t believe it.
“C
an you do it and not get caught?” Sassy asked with an excited gleam in her eyes.
Zach’s smile grew wide. “Yes. Yes, I can.”
“Go for it,” Sassy said. “But make it look real, not like magic.”
“Not. A. Problem,” Zach said, sinking lower in his seat and waiting for an opening.
I was sure something was about to go very wrong, but I was all in for the plan. Mae Blockinschlokinberg was asking to be taken down a peg or two or ten. Her mere presence was vile. I sat back and waited for the show to start.
“Here’s what I reported to Cramanon from your abomination of a play, beaver,” she said with a snarky smile that looked as if she had gas. “No one drinks red wine with salmon. Ever. That was a horrifying faux pas. I was appalled and reported it five times.”
“I drink red wine with salmon,” I hissed. “She’s way behind.”
“You got that right,” Sassy agreed. “I drink red wine with peanut butter and jelly. It’s awesome.”
Bob was crushed. Mae Blockinschlokinberg was on a vicious roll.
“Southern accents are rubbish. I went through the entire script and corrected and reported all the upsetting vernacular,” she said with a delighted sneer. “You’ll receive a quality notice on Cramanon due to my superior knowledge of grammar. You might even lose your publishing privileges.”
“I hate her so bad,” Sassy grumbled. “Who does she think she is? Bob wrote an amazing script when they did the musical version of Silence of the Lambs. Sadly, it was before I lived in Assjacket. I would have been incredible in that show. Rumor has it that several audience members got kind of eaten and the Fava Bean number was lewd, but everyone says it was really good. Bob takes his playwriting very seriously.”
“Are you serious?” I choked out. “How do people get kind of eaten?”
“Oh, you know,” Sassy said with a shrug. “An arm, a leg—it all worked out because they were Shifters. Stuff grows back. So, it’s clear how amazeballs Bob is, which really makes me want to smite that swollen dung humper right out of town.”
“She’s quite hate-able,” Zach agreed. He wiggled his fingers as Mae Blockinschlokinberg walked back to the center of the stage. “Has the old bag ever even written a play?”
“My guess would be no,” I said, watching the stage to see what magic Zach had done. “What did you do?”
“Wait for it,” Zach said with a grin.
Bob raised his hand to speak. “I don’t understand why you would do this. The play takes place in the South per your request. It’s how we speak,” Bob said in a shaky voice. “I could be ruined. My playwriting career could be over. Why would you try to ruin me?”
Mae Blockinschlokinberg laughed like a maniac and pointed a boney finger at Bob. “Because I can,” she shouted and stamped her foot.
The stage caved in with a crash, and she fell right through it. It wasn’t a huge fall, but it was fabulously loud and humiliating. She deserved much worse. Her little minions screamed in horror, yet made no move to save her. However, they did take a few pictures. So much for the trolls having her back.
“Bingo.” Zach grinned.
“I like it.” Sassy gave him a thumbs up. “Should we blow her up now?”
“Nope,” Zach said. “Small annoyances will drive her crazy. Stay subtle, Sassy.”
“Got it,” she said, waving her hand. Mae Blockinschlokinberg was now bald… and pissed.
“Umm… that wasn’t exactly subtle,” I said with a giggle.
“Shit. Is subtle a Canadian word?” Sassy asked. “I thought it was the Mid-western word for hairless.”
“No, it actually means understated,” I told her.
“I don’t speak Russian,” she said in all seriousness.
“Mmkay… subtle means unnoticeable or tiny. Itty bitty magic,” I explained.
“Balls, my bad,” Sassy said, waving her hand and giving Mae Blockinschlokinberg her hair back with a little bit extra.
Mae Blockinschlokinberg now had a bushy unibrow that rivaled Bob's before he'd plucked all the hairs out. It was incredibly disturbing since Sassy had matched it perfectly to her nasty beige sandals.
“Subtle, huh?” Sassy asked with a wicked grin.
“Very,” I lied with a laugh.
Roger the rabbit screamed like a little girl and began choking… or laughing. I couldn't be sure.
Bob ran to the nightmare and pulled her out of the hole.
“I’m so sorry. We’ll have the stage reinforced immediately,” he whimpered. His eyes grew huge when he spotted Mae Blockinschlokinberg’s new beige unibrow. He glanced wildly around the room, and Sassy waved at him like a dummy.
Grabbing Sassy’s arm, I yanked it down. “That’s not subtle,” I told her.
“Crap,” she said, shaking her head. “Itty bitty magic is hard.”
“See that you fix the stage, you worthless beaver,” Mae Blockinschlokinberg snarled and then continued her diatribe of mean. “I also reported you for a missing quotation mark, an absentee comma and using the word to with one O instead of two. Completely ruined my reading experience.”
I barely knew any of these people, but they seemed kind and didn’t deserve this foul treatment. No one deserved Mae Blockinschlokinberg's toxic assault.
“Enough,” I said, standing up and walking toward the stage. “This behavior is unacceptable.”
“Agreed,” Zach growled, coming up right next to me.
“Hell to the yes!” Sassy yelled as she pulled a broom out from underneath her chair and began to fly around the hall.
I hoped she was wearing panties, but there were more important things to deal with at the moment.
“You dare to backtalk me?” Mae Blockinschlokinberg snapped, eyeing Zach and me with great interest.
Her little group of losers pointed at us and whispered frantically—snapping pictures a mile a minute. It seemed as if old Mae Blockinschlokinberg wasn’t fond of being called out and her little ladies didn’t like it either.
“Yep, and I won’t sit and watch nice people get treated so horribly,” I said, staring right back at the nasty little woman. I’d had more than enough of her attitude. I also had some money in the bank—not a lot because dryads didn’t need much, but hopefully enough to cover a community theatre budget in Assjacket, West Virginia and keep it from being shut down by the heinous hack.
“I’ll stop your abuse if necessary,” Zach told her, his tone icy.
“And I’m a member of the Fashion Police. You are in huge fucking trouble, Mae Blockinschlokinberg,” Sassy yelled.
“Excellent!” the nasty woman shouted, making everyone in the room jump. She glanced over at her minions who nodded spastically. “You're all cast. Your balls are just what this play needs. Good work, beaver. I didn’t think you had it in you. Congratulations.”
“What?” Bob asked, wildly confused.
“I’ll be back at four,” Mae Blockinschlokinberg announced. “I expect everyone to know their lines for act one. It will be a mind-blowing gender-bender version of Jaws. It will be my shining moment as a director! Willow.” She pointed at me. I found it strange that she knew my name. “You will play the sheriff as a man. Zach, you will perform the marine biologist as a woman. You, on the broom, you will be the captain, and you will be a hermaphrodite. Bob, make sure to write in a love triangle… actually make it a foursome with Zorro the shark. My brilliance astounds me.”
Everyone was shocked into stunned silence. Zorro passed out then hopped right back to his feet. Thankfully his fainting spells were quick.
“So, umm… we’re shit-canning the actual story of Jaws?” Bob choked out in a strangled whisper.
“We’re improving it,” Mae Blockinschlokinberg said with a crazed expression of joy on her tiny mean face. “Learn your lines!”
On that note, Mae Blockinschlokinberg and her attendants waddled out of the building.
“What the hell just happened?” Zach asked, squinting at me.
“I have no idea,” I sa
id with a shudder. “It all happened so fast.”
Bob walked over and stuck out his hand. “Welcome to the show,” he said, looking like he wanted to cry.
Taking his trembling hand in mine, I shook it. The little man pulled at my heartstrings. “I’m Willow. It’s nice to meet you, Bob, I think. Would you mind if I gave you a gift?”
He looked hopeful. “A gift?”
I smiled. “Yes,” I said. “Would you like a nice new unibrow?”
The little beaver grinned so wide, it made me giggle.
“That would be ever so helpful,” he replied.
“Done.” With a wiggle of my fingers, Bob now had an impressive and hairy unibrow. He was thrilled. “Umm… Bob?”
“Yes?”
“How did Mae Blockinschlokinberg know our names?” I asked.
“She’s a genius,” Bob said, clearly having drunk the Mae Blockinschlokinbitch Kool-aid.
“Right.” I glanced over at Zach who seemed perplexed as well.
“Willow, thank you so much for the unibrow. It’s my pride and joy. I look forward to working together.” He nodded his thanks and hustled off to continue writing.
“That was a very good question,” Zach said.
I arched my brow. “Which one?”
“How does she know our names?”
“She’s probably a mindreading heinous bitch cow,” Sassy said, zooming by on her broom.
“Possibly,” I agreed. The heinous bitch cow part was definitely accurate.
“Are we really going to do this?” Zach asked, still trying to figure out how we’d gotten ourselves buried in the shitstorm.
“I don’t know how to act,” I said, hoping it was an out.
“No worries,” Sassy said, still zipping around the huge room on her broom. “I’m fabulous. I’ll teach you everything you need to know! Just follow my lead.”
“Well, that’s certainly frightening,” Zach muttered with a chuckle.
“Understatement,” I whispered back with a grin.
Zorro walked over and gave us an adorable grin. “I think you should do it,” he said, looking back and forth between Zach and me. “It will be the Three Musketeers back together again…”
Your Broom or Mine?: Magic and Mayhem Book Eight Page 5
