A Fashionable Fiasco

by Robyn Peterman

“Son of a bitch,” Satan grunted, hopping around the room and slapping his ass. “Was that necessary, mother?”

  “It was,” I confirmed. “Never in eternity have I crawled up your ass about your paramours.”

  “Are you kidding me?” he shouted. “You’ve been up my ass for millions of years.

  “He has a point,” Bill said.

  “Don’t believe I was talking to you, man-hooking home-wrecker,” Satan snarled, narrowing his eyes at the man he thought I was cheating with. “Do not take my side.”

  “My apologies,” Bill’s replied, biting back a grin. It clearly delighted him to hear his son defending him even if his son had no clue he was doing so.

  The Devil paused and glared at the man in confusion. “Do I know you? I feel like I know you.”

  “This could all be very easily explained if you would stop destroying my suite,” I told him.

  Satan rolled his eyes and stomped his foot like a toddler. Every single priceless painting on the wall blew up and turned to ash.

  “You are in trouble, little mister shithead,” I shouted, as my magic began to swirl around me and flowers began to burst from the polished hardwood floors.

  “I. Don’t. Care,” Satan bellowed, waved his hands and set flame to all my flowers. “You are setting a horrible example for your children.”

  “Do you even hear yourself? You adore sin and you’re millions of years old. I’d hardly call you a child even though you’re doing a fine imitation of one,” I told him, trying not to giggle.

  I failed. Of course, this pissed my boy off even more.

  “While this is normally true,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “It’s not true right now, Mother.”

  “So, you can change the rules to suit your newfound morality?” I demanded, beginning to enjoy myself even though it would take hours to restore the damage.

  “I’m fucking Satan,” he bellowed, causing the floor to buckle and plaster to rain down from the ceiling. “I can do whatever I want.”

  I was done. I could no longer hold back my hysterics. Falling back on top of the man I was cheating on his father with, I laughed until I cried.

  “Darling,” I choked out through my laughter. “Again, your line conjures up horrifying images. Unless you’ve become a contortionist, you need to rethink who you’re boinking.”

  “For the love of everything dastardly,” Satan grunted. “This is not about me—for once. I’m appalled by your morally repugnant behavior. Do you see what you are doing to me?” he roared. “I have never in my life been appalled by morally repugnant behavior. You are killing my reputation.”

  “If you weren’t such a shit and could shut your trap for twenty-two seconds, this could have been explained. However, since you’ve decided to be an assmonkey, you lose.” My hair began to blow around my head and my fingers began to spark. “You will leave my bedroom and go to the garden at once. Am I clear?” I said so quietly that the Devil blanched.

  “Fine,” Satan hissed. “Round one to Mother Nature. However, I’m calling God and telling on you.”

  “Are you five years old?” I asked, looking up at the ceiling so he wouldn’t detect my amusement.

  “Hardly,” Satan snapped. “I stopped counting my age millions of years ago.”

  “Out,” I repeated. “Or do you need some help?”

  Satan rolled his eyes and disappeared in a cloud of black glitter.

  “Well, that was fun,” I said, turning to Bill and giggling.

  Bill sat up and grinned. “It was. I’m mentally debating the merits of revealing myself. Not sure if Satan having a meltdown because you’re cheating on me is going to be less dramatic than when he realizes you’re not. Plus, we still have to deal with Jim Bob Bob-Bob.”

  Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I considered what Bill had said. A small shiver skittered down my spine. I was missing a puzzle piece here.

  “What do you mean we?” I asked. “I had the dream. I have to deal with the spawn of the Antichrist—not you.”

  Bill stood and grabbed his clothes. His movement wasn’t odd, but his timing was interesting.

  “We are a team, Gaia. What affects you, affects me,” he said, tucking his shirt into his pants and then turning to walk to the closet. “I will never let you come to harm. Ever.”

  If I had the time, I would grill him, but the clock was ticking and I wasn’t sure what information I was after. “Since the beginning of time you have been able to seamlessly go from façade to façade,” I pointed out. “I have to think there’s a reason you can’t do it now.”

  Bill shrugged and gave me a lopsided smile that my heart skip a beat. “Time will tell,” he said softly. “Everything happens for a reason.”

  I sighed. “One would hope, but I suppose I could ask Elle,” I suggested. “Not that she would tell me. She’s more cryptic than the old Fate. Also, I’m not sure how the egos of the two most powerful True Immortals would survive knowing Wisdom is stronger than both Good and Evil.”

  “Any idiot can know,” Bill said thoughtfully. “The question is, will they understand?”

  “I believe the question is, will they tolerate it?” I pointed out

  “Actually, tolerance or rather Compassion is equally as formidable as Wisdom,” Bill stated.

  I glanced up in surprise. My darling granddaughter was the guardian of Compassion. Her mouth might be foul but her sense of right and wrong was firmly entrenched. “Does Astrid know how truly powerful she is?” I asked.

  Bill was quiet for a long moment. I could tell he was thinking. It was all kinds of hot, but nookie was not on the agenda right now. Satan was busy tattling on me to God for something I hadn’t done. There were twenty Bootsy Cooters tied up in the garden and the rest of the Psycho Six were headed back to Nirvana. Of course, that was nothing compared to the fact I still had no real clue or solid plan to stop Jim Bob Bob-Bob from whatever dastardly plan he had up his sleeves, possibly including bringing about the end times.

  And Bill had just blown me away by suggesting my granddaughter was as powerful as he was.

  Occasionally being me sucked—like today, for instance.

  “Astrid has no clue,” Bill said. “I’d like her to be here. Compassion might be what is needed.”

  “Why?” I asked. “I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

  “She’s a True Immortal, lover,” he reminded me. “Astrid can’t die.”

  “There are many fates worse than death,” I said flatly, feeling the weight of the world bearing down on my lovely shoulders. “You really think she should be here?”

  Bill nodded. “I do.”

  “Then here she shall be.”

  I just hoped to Heaven and Hell we weren’t making a huge mistake. There was little to no room for error. But Bill was Wisdom and wise he was. If he believed that Wisdom and Compassion could tame Good and Evil, I believed him.

  Shit was about to get complicated.

  Chapter Eight

  The garden was a shit show—literally. My new friends were interrogating the Boobies while Satan was hiding from the women under a massive rose bush on the far side of the garden talking on his cell phone. My evil son was such a weenie. Although, even I had to admit the gals were truly terrifying.

  Thankfully, God hadn’t arrived yet. I was hoping to get rid of the extra Betty Cruisers before my heavenly son realized how many humans I’d kidnapped. I couldn’t think of a valid excuse that he would buy. Of course, Satan didn’t give a shit if I’d kidnapped a hundred Bossy Cooters because he was a shit himself.

  A flock of teal and orange parrots were squawking and crapping all over the place. Studly was trying desperately to run interference. However, with all the poop flying, poor little Studly felt the need to fling his own poo in solidarity with the parrots. I was quite certain things couldn’t have gotten worse until my darling monkey nailed Fran with some feces. The screaming was going to give me a migraine.

  “What is going on here?” I shouted as
I ducked the flying poop.

  All twenty Bossy Cockblockers—still tied to their chairs—were bent forward and running in circles while shrieking in terror. It was actually impressive that they could do that.

  And my new posse? My posse was horrifying. Inviting them here was definitely a mistake. Joan was sporting so many warts that her eyes were difficult to make out. Hortense was flashing fang and the hostages weren’t taking that well. Both Fran and Velma had shrunk to a size so small I was concerned they would get trampled by the crazed Boopsie Coopers. And Cathy’s wings were set on high-speed, creating a wind that I was sure was going to blow Nirvana right off the map.

  “None of the hostages will come clean. All the idiots claim to be Betsy Cocker,” Joan grunted. “We’re going scare it out of them.”

  With a wave of my hand, I froze everyone. It was necessary. Although it was wildly unflattering for my new BFFs. Joan was in an unladylike squat. The wind that Cathy had created had blown Fran and Velma’s skirts over their heads and both of them were wearing Spanx. It really didn’t help. I considered telling them they should get a refund, but that would cause an explosion of massive proportions. Thankfully, Hortense and Cathy were clad in Armani pantsuits. I would need eye bleach if I had to see their grundies.

  “The Boobies are humans,” I snapped. “You’re going to scare them to death. Not a good plan, ladies—and I use the term very, very, very loosely.”

  “Shit, she’s right,” Velma said in a pitch so high that I heard Satan moan in agony.

  Served him right for being so rude. However, since I was fairly sure I’d just burst an eardrum, I wiggled my fingers and sealed Velma’s mouth shut. I’d hate to have an ear bleed and ruin my Prada. So far, I’d successfully avoided the poo. Blood was a bitch to remove and I adored my frock.

  “Umm, Gigi?” Astrid questioned, appearing right next to me in a gorgeous blast of silver and black magic. “I thought you sent the big-boned gals to Purgatory.”

  “Darling,” I cried out in relief, pulling her into a hug. “They let me join their club, so I invited them over. Don’t call them big-boned,” I whispered in her ear. “They’re quite violent without being insulted. You feel me?”

  “I feel you,” Astrid whispered back. “Why is Uncle Fucker under a bush?”

  “Pay him no mind,” I told her. “He’s being a jackass. Why are you here? I haven’t sent for you yet.”

  “Grandpa summoned me,” she explained with a tiny smirk.

  I went mute—highly unusual for me. Had Bill been able to take on his Sprite form back on? I was so confused I was tempted to cause a natural disaster. However, my new buddies were destructive enough without me adding to the mess. Note to self… make another therapy appointment. I needed something stronger than counting. With more restraint than I knew I had, I decided to use my words instead of my magic.

  “So… umm, Grandpa called you… like on the phone?” I asked, trying to gauge how to proceed.

  Astrid raised her brow and grinned. “Nope, he transported to the Cressida House and filled me in a bit,” she replied, tilting her head and waiting for my reaction.

  For the first time in a very long time, I was unsure what to say. “And you… well, you… umm…”

  “I what?” Astrid inquired with amusement dancing in her golden eyes.

  Pursing my lips and trying not to smile at her impertinence, I went for it. My Astrid was delightfully disrespectful and she had outstanding fashion sense. Her red Stella McCartney mini dress was stunning. “You recognized Bill?”

  Astrid rolled her eyes and laughed. “Yep.”

  “How?” I asked.

  “Gigi, I would recognize him anywhere just like I would recognize anyone I love. Outer shells can be deceptive. I can always see what’s inside.”

  “Well, Hell’s bells, Bill was right,” I muttered, staring at the child in wonder. Compassion was very powerful indeed. My idiot son hadn’t recognized his father and had known him for millions of years. Yet Astrid, who’d only been Immortal for a small blip of time had seen through the façade.

  “Right about what?” she asked, wincing at the scene in front of us.

  “Nothing,” I said quickly. “I might need a little help.”

  “Understatement of the century,” Astrid shot back. “What exactly are you trying to accomplish here?”

  “Mmmkay, I’ll make this short,” I said, pulling her out of earshot of my guests that were here by invite and those that were here by illegal activity. “The spawn of the Antichrist was at the grocery store while I was there trying to abscond with Bessy Cocksock. Needless to say, Bessy wasn’t there because computers lie. However, I believe it was quite fortuitous that I ran into the evil asshole offspring of the Antichrist. Ohhhhh, and PS… there’s something called internet juice that will make your computer tell the truth. Just don’t pour it in the holes or the laptop will blow up. Anyhoo, I had a dream that Elle was Dream Walking in, which means I have to solve the shit show according to God and Satan. Of course, Satan lies, but God doesn’t, as you know. Apparently, I’m the one that has to stop the end times, even though God says they’re not on the schedule—which is written in pencil, not pen. So, after my new friends made Mr. Rogers have a nervous breakdown in Purgatory, we figured out how to find Barbie Cockblocker to teach me how to cook.”

  I was sure I heard Astrid mutter what the fuck, but I couldn’t be bothered to admonish her. Actually, I agreed with her. But there was still more to share.

  “I believe I can end the end times by learning how to cook and making God and Satan wear somewhat masculine aprons to serve the meal. Hence, this is why I’ve kidnapped a bunch of women who claim to be Bonnie Cooter. I plan to find the real one, learn to cook and voila! Problem solved—I think.”

  “I am so fucking confused,” Astrid said. “How does you learning to cook and having a dinner party end the end times?”

  “That is a fine question, darling,” I conceded. “However, since Fate is being a cryptic bitch and I only have a week before the world possibly ends, I’m winging it. And I should probably add that Jim Bob Bob-Bob may have broken the first seal of the Apocalypse by snapping a white plastic horse in half.”

  “Who the Hell is Jim Bob Bob-Bob?” Astrid asked, looking at me askance.

  I didn’t blame her. It was a lot to take in. “He’s the son of the Antichrist.”

  “Got it,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Can you help me?” I asked. It was odd to ask for assistance, but Astrid was different from the rest. She was very aware of my faults—not that I had any. Yet she never mentioned them… not that I had any.

  “No clue if I can help, but if we’re winging it, I can give it a shot,” Astrid said, paling a bit. “So, your friends—for lack of a better term—are trying to kill off the humans you kidnapped?”

  “Nonononono. I know it looks bad, but I’m ninety-three percent sure that execution is not in the plan,” I explained, shooting a glare at my new club members. “They’re trying to ascertain which one is the real Bopsy Cucumber.”

  “By giving them heart attacks?” Astrid pressed.

  “Umm… possibly,” I said with a small wince. “Can you fix this?”

  “Will you electrocute your psycho buddies if they get up in my face?” she inquired. “It would be really bad form if I offed your new friends.”

  “Absolutely,” I told her. My granddaughter was so thoughtful. “I’d love to have an excuse to shock the shit out of them.”

  “I’m in then,” Astrid said with a laugh.

  With a wave of her manicured hand, Astrid released all of the Beckys and seated them comfortably on chairs. They were now arranged in a neat semi-circle. The metal chairs had been replaced with over-stuffed shabby chic floral armchairs that looked lovely in my garden. I’d have to ask Astrid if I could keep them.

  Gone were the ropes and gags. The poop residue disappeared and my parrots flew in beautiful formations around Astrid’s head. It was a stunning picture.
My undead Vampyre-Demon granddaughter was a force to behold. Studly hopped onto her shoulder and kissed her cheek. I was unsure if she’d plugged the parrot’s bottoms, or if they simply adored Astrid and refused to take a dump on her.

  “Tie them back up!” Fran shrieked. “We can’t torture the truth out of them if they can make a run for it.”

  “Gigi?” Astrid turned to me and rolled her eyes.

  “On it,” I replied and blasted Fran with a bolt that singed the hair off the right side of her head.

  “Nice,” Astrid complimented me.

  “Thank you,” I replied with a wink and then turned to the gals. “Astrid is in charge now. If anyone has an issue with that, speak now so I can electrocute you.”

  “Umm… I’m good,” Joan said, placing herself strategically behind a Bonnie Corkscrew.

  Joan was the smartest of the crew. I would never electrocute someone I’d kidnapped. I only shocked the living daylights out of my invited guests. The rest of the big-boned gals simply nodded and piled in next to Joan.

  “Hello, ladies,” Astrid said warmly.

  “Hello!” Hortense squealed with a spastic wave and a curtsy of respect. Astrid was the Vampyre Princess of the North American Dominion and Hortense was technically one of her subjects.

  “Umm, hi,” Astrid said to Hortense with a small smile. “I wasn’t actually talking to you. I was talking to the humans. You might want to close your cakehole.”

  “Whoops, my bad, my liege,” Hortense blubbered, making the international zip the lip signal.

  It would have worked out wonderfully if her fangs hadn’t been out. Since they were, Hortense was now bleeding profusely from the mouth. What was I thinking to want to be part of their group? They were a hot mess.

  Thankfully, Velma and Fran had grown back to normal size and handed Hortense a wad of napkins to stem the flow. It was a complete bummer that they were my good yellow linen napkins, but it was best not to traumatize the Bettys any more than we already had. The mindwipe alone was going to be massive.

  “So, ladies,” Astrid continued. “I believe we can solve this fucking clusterhump quickly and get you back to… umm… where exactly were you when this happened?”