by Rena Marks
Only Marcie realized how Wilma sulked as she took a position with the other Puritans. For some reason, she was gung-ho to return to the little piss-ants.
“You wouldn’t dare let one of these vile creatures touch your pure body,” Peenis sneered.
Marcie almost snorted. There wasn’t a pure bone left in Pariah’s body.
“Oh yeah? I was expecting maybe four inches, but he gave me more like twelve.” She tossed her hair back.
“Size doesn’t matter. It’s been scientifically proven,” one of the men whined, shifty eyes darting back and forth amongst his little brothers.
“Doesn’t it?” Pariah asked sweetly. “Marcie?”
“Well, uh, well…” Marcie’s eyes darted across the room to Bajoc. He looked magnificent standing next to Tristan, engaged in conversation. “Oh, hell, yes. It matters. It matters a lot,” she said to the Puritans.
“I thought so,” Virginia said, excitedly. “I really, really did. That’s why you gave us that…lesson, right? With those pictures?”
“Yes,” Marcie said. “We wanted to let you ladies know there are other options.”
“As I was trying to teach them. They had two options previously. Grow one or be put to death. So now that we’re banished, you can issue your retraction, but it’s our choice whether we wish to return,” Pariah said.
“We won’t have a choice if we’re ordered to return,” Wilma said. “It’s our duty.”
Pariah’s voice had never been as cold. “Sister Wilma. Shut. Your. Mouth.”
“Perhaps I’ll go relieve Lara with the kids,” Marcie said, her voice a bit strangled.
Bajoc’s eyes were glued to the scene, like in a porn-movie coma.
Definitely she’d take her turn with the kids. The love bugs would be a lot easier to deal with that the drama spitting Puritan hellions.
She headed into the daycare facility, and Reese immediately wandered to her, his arms outstretched.
“Mum,” he said, sobbing.
“Baby boy, what’s wrong?” Marcie picked up her adorable purple son, noticing Lara sitting in a chair, consoling a crying Titi.
“Hurts,” Reese said, squirming behind him to reach his back.
Marcie rubbed his back, and he motioned her toward his shoulder blades. “Ahh,” he said, when she reached the right spot. He dropped his little head onto the crook of her neck. She walked over to where Lara sat.
“Oh, Titi, baby, what’s wrong?” Lara sounded bewildered.
“Does her back itch like Reese’s?”
At her suggestion, Lara snaked her hand underneath Titi’s dress, and lightly scratched her back. Titi immediately quieted.
“Did they get into something?”
“I can’t imagine.”
Two more of the children approached. “My back is itchy,” Jestia complained.
“Tomlak, does your back itch?”
“A little,” he admitted. “But not bad.”
“Can I see, honey?”
She whipped his shirt over his head. There was a butterfly shaped pink rash over his shoulder blades. Lara traced it lightly.
“It seems to itch worse with the little ones,” she said to Marcie.
“I wonder what’s causing it?”
“Did you all touch something?”
“I don’t think so,” Tomlak said. “And nobody’s taken their shirts off. Not even Titi stripped today.”
“Did you all eat and drink?”
“I haven’t eaten,” Tomlak said. “Me and Trince were playing. I think the girls ate, though.”
“So it’s not the food,” Marcie said.
“How about drink?” Lara asked him.
He nodded. “We had some of that punch.”
“Has everyone had some?”
He nodded again. “I got Titi and Reese some, too.”
“I’ll go cover it up,” Marcie said. Reese clung to her as she draped plastic over the spout, and gathered up the half empty drinking cups.
“No more punch. I think it’s making everyone itch,” she said to Eelia. “Want to help me gather up the cups?”
After Eelia had gathered the rest of the cups, Marcie dumped the last of the drink. “Honey, will you let me know if any of the babies wake up?”
She nodded.
“How’s her back?” Marcie asked Lara.
“I put a little bit of cream on it. Now the rest of the kids are itching. Maybe we should get the rest of the cream put on them?”
One by one, the children lined up to have the anti-itch oatmeal ointment rubbed into their tiny shoulder blades.
“Why is it wing-shaped?” Marcie whispered to her.
“I’m not sure. I’m wondering if it has something to do with Kriekjan saying the kids would develop wings. It seems awfully peculiar that they’d all sprout wings at once and on the same night.”
“Definitely not natural.” Marcie agreed. She continually rubbed Reese’s little back. His skin seemed a little clammy with the cream she’d rubbed in.
“Marcie!” Lara’s voice was unusually loud with alarm. Marcie looked to where she was pointing to see little purple people fading from view.
Lara jumped off the seat to grab Titi’s sleeping form. She vanished, along with all the other children in a blink.
Marcie’s own arms clasped around herself where she’d been holding onto Reese.
“Where’d they go? Where the hell are our babies?”
Chapter Eleven
“Does it seem like the Quakers are acting odd?” Bajoc asked Tristan.
Tristan’s eyes narrowed as he focused on the diminutive beings. “They don’t seem to care that they are harassing our females.”
“Right in front of our eyes.”
“That we could kick their little asses.”
“Something doesn’t add up.”
Mayor Peenis punched his friend but missed him by about six inches, spinning in a circle and looking confused. The rest of the men giggled uproariously. It sounded incongruous with the baritone voices.
“Are they drunk?” Bajoc asked.
“They are smaller than us,” Tristan said. “Maybe they don’t tolerate the ale so well?”
“Oh, hell,” Bajoc said. “We should cut them off. We don’t want to violate any treaties.”
Just then, Mayor Peenis Jab grabbed his crotch, cupping it and hopping. The other men guffawed.
“That’s definitely not normal,” Tristan said.
“No,” Bajoc agreed. “Did you see the outline? It looks like a Tootsie Roll with a couple of raisins attached.”
“I didn’t look there,” Tristan snarled. “Whatever Kamau may imply—“
Bajoc raised a brow, but Tristan was done talking. Instead, he began stomping over to the tiny council.
“Mayor Jab, are you feeling all right? Perhaps we can get you something to eat and a non-alcoholic beverage to drink.”
“Non-alcoholic? You boorish brute, we’re simply having the fruit punch.” He swaggered a little.
Tristan’s gaze cut to Bajoc, who shrugged.
A short distance away, the skinny Wilma screeched at Pariah. “Shut my mouth? I’ll show you! And everyone else. You don’t know who you’re messing with! He whoeth silences the dove opens the serpent’s lair!”
“In any case,” Bajoc said, ignoring the females and continuing the conversation with the males, “something isn’t quite right with your behavior.” Just then, he began to feel a little lightheaded again. “What did you mean about you and Kamau?” he asked Tristan. He seemed to have lost his train of thought.
Then he saw Tristan’s mouth move before the lights went out and Bajoc hit the floor.
* * * * *
Marcie ran to where the infants napped. All five of the small cribs were lined up in a row against the wall. Thankfully, the tiny beings in various silver shades still slept peacefully, unaware of the commotion with their siblings.
“The babies are safe,” she yelled out to Lara. “It’s just the kids.�
��
“Come on,” Lara said, and ran toward the dance room, Marcie close on her heels. They were abruptly stopped by the double doors which had somehow locked. They banged on the heavy doors, but no one seemed to hear over the loud music pounding.
Finally, they grabbed chairs to bang on the doorknobs enough to shake them loose. The doors swung open, the knobs hanging.
“The children are gone!” Lara screamed and stopped at the scene before them.
Every person in the place was tied up into chairs placed along the wall. The music incongruously played, making them think the party was still happening.
Wilma Ann Westerly stood with a laser pointed at the Helian Six crew, who swayed drunkenly in their chairs. The four Puritans were tied back to back and flopped on the floor like marooned fish in front of the captives. Pariah was nowhere to be seen. But the six members of the Liliputian Mayor’s Council were out cold, the drugs too much for their systems.
For a second, Marcie thought they were dead, but then one broke wind.
“What the hell’s going on?” Lara screamed, running to Tristan. His eyes crossed slightly when he glued his eyes to her as she approached. He swayed in his seat.
Marcie ran to Bajoc. “Baby? Are you okay?”
“Marcie, my blond bird. Is there two of you? Don’t let her make you drink the Blood of her Lord.”
“The what?”
“It’s her special drink. Don’t do it.”
“I forgot about you two,” Wilma muttered. She handed two vials over. “Bottoms up, ladies. You heathens like your wine? Drink this.”
“No way,” Marcie said.
“Uh-uh,” Lara said.
Wilma pointed a laser at Bajoc, swiveling it to Tristan. “Well, I guess the grief of being a widow will keep you just as incapacitated as my little relaxant will.”
Both women chugged their vials.
“I may have forgotten about you two,” Wilma muttered. “But the Lord brought you to me anyway. He, the ultimate soul who iseth the light, and chases the shadows from forgotten closets.”
“Iseth?” Marcie mouthed to Lara.
Lara giggled, and shrugged.
Marcie began to laugh, clutching her sides.
“Tie each other!” Wilma screamed, her face flushing beneath her unibrow.
Marcie turned on her, shaking her head to clear it. “Oh, yeah. Where are our children?”
“Do not worry about the heathen-spawn. They are safe—for now—and will attend a school on my planet to correct the lack of spiritual education you caused with your inept, pathetic attempt at training.” Her glare was vicious.
“Safe where?”
“Upon my own planet.”
“The Quakers have them?” Marcie felt her brows knit.
“Quakestrarian? No, Herbasnuttia.”
“What?”
Wilma curled her lip, as if they were completely stupid. “I am a Herbasnut. I have been living among the idiot Quakers my entire adult life. I slipped the little demonseeds a cell reactivator, which allows their molecules to be rearranged. It enables their chemical makeup to be somewhat moveable, so they can be transported back and forth. They have been beamed to my land, and this planet will be destroyed.”
“That’s not safe.”
“Neither are you, at the moment. Now, tie each other, or I zap him.”
Her laser hovered near Bajoc.
“Wait,” Marcie said. “I’ll tie Lara. Hold on.”
Lara held out her hands, and Marcie tied her at the wrists as quickly and loosely as she could, not that it mattered because Lara complained that it tickled. Wilma grabbed Marcie and tied her hands before pushing her down onto Bajoc’s lap.
“Oh, this is nice,” Marcie giggled. “Let’s talk about the first thing that pops up.”
Bajoc looked down his majestic nose at her. “You’re drunk.”
“So are you. And him. And her.” She began pointing around the room.
“All except for me,” Wilma snapped. “Now shut up, you slut.”
“Slut?” Lara laughed heartily. “Hell, she kept her legs closed so long, I’m surprised Bajoc’s not blue.”
“Me, too.” Bajoc burped.
Marcie glared at him.
“You’ve since made up for it, my love,” he said, kissing her nose.
Chapter Twelve
A sudden clamoring had Wilma striding to a closet door, flinging it open for Pariah to fall out.
“You! You knocked me out.” Pariah gasped. “You were the one feeding information to the Herbasnuts?”
“More than that,” Wilma sneered. “I’m the reason why the entire planet knew of your sullied skirts, you tramp.”
“Tramp? I’m the Madonna of the Puritans. You were my friend. I trusted you. I trusted you with the other Puritans, and you know I protect them above all else.” Pariah’s arm swept in a wide arc. “Look at them. They’re shivering, they’re so terrified.”
It seemed to Marcie the girls were mellow in a drugged stupor, without any energy to move much less shiver.
“You think the Quakers are so pure? Your unibrow was earned. Mine grew naturally. I had to shave it off to make it appear I didn’t have one. I was placed on Quakestrarian decades ago to infiltrate your miserable government. And as far as trust goes, those Puritans are ignorant twits.”
“The girls are just young, not ignorant.”
“They’re idiots, and your Mayor is an idiot also. It was so easy to plant the seed that Millie would further his career. His greed left you standing with your spread thighs wide in sin.”
“All this time,” Pariah said, and her voice echoed defeat. “All this time I loved you. I protected you. And you were setting me up for death?”
“Maybe you loved me, but I certainly couldn’t love a repulsive, immoral creature such as you. The world needs to be wiped clean of all monstrosities to the True Lord, including those abhorrent beings of this planet.”
“You kidnapped these purple children?”
“Children? They are ignorant pets! You said so yourself.”
“I was wrong. They’re intelligent, capable of learning the sign language I’ve been teaching them. They’re simply babies.”
“They are heathens, wrong in the eyes of the Lord. If I had any doubts, they were squashed from the first day when we saw the fat one dancing naked. And then that same being mimicked the sacred unibrow right in front of us.”
“She didn’t know any better.”
“She shows the signs of the devil, over and over. The Lord wiped this planet from existence, and the devil planted those beings in a time capsule. They should never have been resuscitated. I will give them one chance to take in the Lord as repentance before they are sacrificed for their lack of purity.”
“You’re a traitor,” Pariah said, getting over her shock that Wilma was the spy. “We heathens will wipe the ground with you.”
The other four girls blinked, as if they were unaware of the phrase. But Pariah moved in, and with a karate chop, knocked the blaster from Wilma’s arm. It clattered to the floor, rolling until it landed at Commander Kriekjan’s feet.
With a roar, Pariah pitched herself at Wilma Ann, and they tumbled together on the floor, screeching and scratching.
“Bitch!” Pariah screamed and held Wilma Ann’s hands so she couldn’t cross herself.
“Aaagh!” Wilma Ann screamed in righteous indignation. “My ears. They burn!”
“You’ll tell us where you sent the babies!”
“Never, you…you…”
“Go ahead,” Pariah said, slapping her across the face again. “Say it!”
“Never will I defile myself with such devil-speak!”
“The devil’s coming quicker than you think,” Pariah snarled, grabbing her unibrow and twisting. Plugs of hair came off in her fingers, making Wilma howl. “How dare you touch my Lennard!”
“Sacrilege! You have lusted after that demon far too long!” Wilma screamed.
“I’ve done more
than lust,” Pariah yelled. “I’ve had his tallywhacker in my mouth! It was dirty and delicious, and I loved every minute of it!”
Several of the tied up men grimaced, but Kriekjan simply grinned like a fool.
“You have succumbed to the devil, Pariah Pritchard. So sayeth the shepherd!”
“So sayeth the Flock!” The four tied Puritans chanted automatically.
Marcie glared at them, and they immediately shut their mouths.
“Sorry, it was automatic,” Molli whispered.
“We’re so inbred.” Virginia offered a tentative smile.
Marcie sighed and smiled back. It wasn’t Virginia’s fault she was young and cute…and horny. “Let’s throw ourselves on Wilma so she can’t get up,” Marcie whispered. “As soon as they roll closer.”
“I don’t know…she’s sharp,” Molli said, eyeing Wilma’s bony elbows as the sleeves rolled up, exposing them.
“You’re plump enough,” Marcie assured her. “It’ll be all right. And you’ll have your pick of any man when you return to your planet. You’ll be known as heroines for defeating her.”
“I may choose to stay here,” Molli said warily, as if testing the waters. “There’s been talk of other men coming. And quite frankly, we just saw our men in a new light.”
The other three looked at her intently, wondering at her reaction. “If that’s what you wish,” Marcie smiled and leaned in. “And yes. More Freijians do want to retire to the planet. You ladies can do anything you wish.”
“Hey, they’re our women,” one of the Quaker men sneered. Marcie wasn’t even aware he’d woken up. “They’re ripe for the picking now that those brows have grown in. Our pickin’!”
“Then you should have taken better care of them!” Lara snapped. “Instead of banishing them to a strange planet and marking them for death unless they grew a flipping unibrow! The unibrow only signifies the urge to please your men, anyway.”
“I’m next in line,” he said. “I demand my Puritan!”
“Fine! Wilma’s first up, too.”
The reminder dropped their attention to the struggling women who rolled around on the floor.
“The Lord demandeth I take you out,” Pariah snarled, slapping Wilma so hard her sparse unibrow quivered.
