A Fashionable Fiasco

by Robyn Peterman

  One of the Bonnies politely raised her hand.

  “Yes?” Astrid said, pointing at her.

  The woman nervously pulled on her pearls and adjusted her dated red blazer. “We were all at an audition to be in a Betsy Cocker commercial in Chicago.”

  Astrid sighed and her chin dropped to her chest. I wasn’t sure if she was trying not to laugh or swear. I was starting to feel a bit dumb but decided to blame it on Velma for not getting all the information before the mass kidnapping. Clearly, she didn’t use enough internet juice.

  “Holy shit. Seriously?” Astrid asked, glancing over at me and my posse in shock.

  None of us made eye contact with Astrid. The ground was all of a sudden very interesting.

  Astrid groaned and turned her attention back to the Bumpies. “Do you gals happen to have your driver’s licenses?”

  Nodding, all twenty reached for their purses that had miraculously made the trip to Nirvana in one piece. A few had a little parrot poo on them, but that could be solved. I would send each victim home with a brand-new Chanel bag. The thought made me feel much better about my faux pas… actually Velma’s faux pas. I didn’t make faux pas.

  “Who can mindwipe without hurting or further traumatizing these women?” Astrid demanded.

  Not one of the Psycho Six raised their hands.

  Shit. I wasn’t even sure I could do it at this point. I was on electrocution mode. It would be risky to mindwipe a human right now.

  “Well, that’s fanfuckingtastic,” Astrid muttered. “Uncle Fucker?”

  “No,” Satan called out from under his bush.

  “You owe me,” Astrid snapped.

  “I already paid you back,” he grumbled.

  “You’re lying,” Astrid shot back.

  “Your point?” Satan asked.

  “Get your sorry ass out here right now,” she commanded.

  “And if I don’t?” Satan inquired.

  Astrid’s grin grew wide. “If you don’t, I will send Martha and Jane on an extended trip to Hell. I will make it very clear to them that they are to entertain you 24-7 for the entire six months they are there. Does that work for you?”

  “You are a heinous child,” Satan said, trying to hide his grin as he approached the group.

  It was indeed rare for a being to be unafraid of the Devil. Astrid wasn’t the least bit intimidated by her uncle. Satan adored her disrespect even if he ended up losing to her once in a great while. Not to mention, Martha and Jane were terrifying to most. Astrid had them turned into Vampyres as they lay dying at her feet a few years ago. Something I was sure she regretted on a daily basis. They stayed ancient and were partial to wearing sequined boob tubes, spandex shorts, black socks and sandals. They were tone-deaf, violent and foul-mouthed. They would drive Satan to drink. Heavily.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment coming from you, jackhole,” Astrid told her uncle. “When I give you the go-ahead, please mindwipe each one and send them home. Got it?”

  “You’ll owe me,” Satan countered.

  “For the love of everything idiotic,” Astrid groused. “I will owe you nothing. However, if you promise to make the mindwipe and the transport as gentle as possible, you may have a favor.”

  Satan rubbed his hands together and grinned. “I want to give everyone in your ridiculous nativity scene a boner next Christmas.”

  “You did not just say you want to give the Virgin Mary a boner,” I snapped at my wildly inappropriate son.

  “He did,” Astrid said with a laugh. “Fine. They’ll match my nutcrackers that you already defiled. However, no boner on my baby Jesus. And that’s non-negotiable.”

  “Deal,” Satan replied. “God’s on his way, so I say we get this shit show on the road or my duplicitous mother will have some extra explaining to do.”

  “Not following,” Astrid said, confused.

  “Oh, you will,” Satan said, shooting me a nasty look. “Soon all shall be revealed.”

  “Whatever,” Astrid said. “Ladies, show me your driver’s license please.”

  “What the Hell is a driver’s license?” Velma squeaked, causing everyone to slap their hands over their ears.

  Dammit, the mouth seal hadn’t held. With a snap of my fingers, I quickly electrocuted Velma. Honestly, I was having fun.

  “Just don’t speak,” I told her. “Astrid has Vampyre hearing. She needs to concentrate—not bleed.”

  Velma gave me a weak thumbs up and slapped out the fire on her ass.

  One by one, Astrid excused each Belinda Cockring. Satan then wiped their minds and sent them home. It was terrifying. Well, not the mindwipe and transport. Satan kept his word and was careful with each and every human. The fact that there was only one left and she might not be the real Bitty Clickbait was tremendously bad news for the world staying intact. I was running out of time here.

  “No fucking way,” Satan shouted as he got behind Astrid and peeked out at the last hostage.

  “Yes, fucking way… Boss,” the woman replied, lifting her middle finger to the Devil.

  “For the love of everything certifiably and irrevocably insane—meaning you. You DO NOT work for me,” Satan hissed, running his hands through this hair and beginning to glow menacingly. “I don’t know who told you that you did.”

  “I’m the Grim freakin’ Reaper, shit-goblin,” she contradicted the King of Hell. “Of course, I work for you. Who else would I work for?”

  Satan threw his hands in the air and blew up all my flowering bushes within a hundred feet. “I don’t know how many times I’m going to have to explain this to you, Betsy… but there is no fucking Grim Reaper. It’s a myth.”

  “Her name is Betsy?” I questioned, only to be shushed by Astrid.

  I didn’t like it, but I was smart enough to know Astrid was correct. Whatever was playing out here needed to play out. I would have the nut-job reveal her surname shortly. Well, unless Satan incinerated her for calling him a shit-goblin.

  “And just so you know,” Betsy the Grim Reaper went on as if this was the complaint office in Hell. “I hate this job. It’s not for me. I can’t kill anything. And the pay sucks ass.”

  “Fucking Hell,” Satan muttered and pushed Astrid aside. “If there was a Grim Reaper—which there is not—you wouldn’t kill people. You would bring them to Hell.”

  “Seriously?” she asked perplexed.

  Satan inhaled slowly through his nose and blew the breath out just as slowly from his lips. My boy was literally sparking he was so furious. “Yes. Seriously. However, since the job doesn’t exist, this little exchange is moot,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

  The Grim Reaper rolled her eyes and slapped herself in the head. “It would have been nice to have been given a job description instead of stumbling upon a black cape back in the day and figuring it out for myself, ass-pastry—never should have gone to that fucking Halloween store. I’ve been killing off the human’s appliances and automobiles since I couldn’t bring myself to off the humans for real. I’ve spent several hundred years blowing up refrigerators and vacuum cleaners. I feel fucking awful right now.”

  “I’d really like to detonate this one,” Satan told Astrid. “She’s been a thorn in my ass for centuries.”

  “Umm, nope,” Astrid said and turned her attention to the whackjob. “What exactly are you?”

  “I’m the Grim Reaper,” she grunted. “Are you deaf, fuck-knuckle?”

  “Pleeeease let me incinerate her,” Satan begged.

  “I’m getting there,” Astrid muttered and then pulled herself back together. “May I call you Betsy?” she inquired.

  “Call me whatever you want. I wanna be reassigned. This Grim Reaper job sucks dick,” Betsy said and plopped down into an armchair.

  “Right,” Astrid said, gingerly taking the seat next to her. “I get that you think you’re the Grim Reaper, but I was referring to your species. What species are you?”

  “Can you legally ask that question in a job interview,
twat-truck?” Betsy asked, narrowing her eyes at Astrid.

  “Duuuuude,” Astrid ground out as her hair began to blow around her head and rainbow-colored blasts of magic danced around her. “You are grinding my last nerve here. I’m trying to save your idiot ass from ending up a pile of goo. You feel me? Answer the fucking question, or I’ll save Satan the bother of blowing your rude ass up.”

  “Will she really do it?” Joan whispered in my ear.

  My posse had joined me and we watched the surreal scene unfold.

  “No,” I whispered back. “She’s too compassionate. However, I wouldn’t put it past her to do some real damage.”

  “She’s stylish and violent,” Cathy pointed out. “She might be right for the Eternal Crème de la Crème Society.”

  I wanted to roll my eyes and electrocute every one of the bulbous wenches. It had taken me centuries to be invited into the club. However, with Astrid in there, we could really smackdown and rule the roost.

  “You’ll have to ask her,” I whispered. “She’s quite busy, but who knows?”

  “I don’t understand the question,” Betsy snapped. She then pulled a hooded black robe out of her oversized purse and threw it at Astrid.

  “Now can I off her?” Satan asked again.

  Violence was very close at hand. Normally, I would agree with using brute force on such an unsavory individual, but not right now. Too much was at stake.

  “Tell me your last name, Reaper,” I demanded, stepping in before Astrid or Satan could eliminate her and effectively end the world in doing so. It was a gut feeling, but it was all I had to go on at the moment.

  “Cocker,” the woman said.

  “You’re Betsy Cocker?” I asked, shocked.

  I mean, she was wearing the right get-up. Her unfashionable hairstyle was brown and she had on the requisite pearls, purse and red lipstick. However, she was awful. Maybe Jim Bob Bob-Bob was correct in his description of the nasty woman.

  “I’m Betsy Cocker the Grim Reaper, you butt-wanker,” she announced. “Whatcha gonna do about it?”

  It took all I had not to turn her insolent ass into a toad, but today wasn’t normal. At all.

  “Can you cook?” I asked, clasping my hands together so I didn’t accidentally on purpose decapitate her.

  “Mother, what are you doing?” Satan asked, getting alarmed.

  “I’m giving the impertinent foul-mouthed little shit-for-brains a new job,” I told him. “She’s now my problem. Not yours.”

  “Fine,” Satan said with a laugh. “Good luck with that.”

  “I don’t believe in luck. I believe in Fate. And I do believe it just dropped into my garden,” I said, eyeing Betsy Cocker with distaste.

  “God’s here,” Satan said, with a sneer. “Time to go to confession, mother.”

  With a clap of my hands, I electrocuted my son. As he swore and hopped around the garden to put out the flames, I addressed my posse. “Take Betsy to the kitchen and prepare her to teach me to cook. Do not—under any circumstances—kill her. I don’t care how ill-mannered she is. Just keep her alive and have her show us what we will need. Am I clear?”

  “You are,” Joan said with a curt nod. “We won’t kill her. However, I can’t guarantee that she’ll have all of her body parts.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. “Just don’t remove her arms or her head. I need those.”

  “Will do, Gaia,” Hortense said, as she grabbed a surprised Betsy Cocker by the scruff of her blazer and yanked her toward the Garden Palace kitchen.

  “What’s the pay for this gig, you massive elbow fart?” Betsy demanded as she was being dragged away.

  “Are you sure about this?” Astrid asked, scrunching her nose. “She’s pretty damned awful.”

  “I’m not sure at all,” I admitted. “However, with time running short, I have no choice.”

  “Umm… God doesn’t look real happy,” Astrid mumbled as she watched him float down into the garden with a scowl on his Angelic face. “Should I leave?”

  “Oh no, darling,” I said with a giggle. “If you’d like to see Satan have his ass handed to him, then you must stay.”

  Astrid’s grin was wide. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Smart girl,” I said, patting her on the head. “Let the fun begin.”

  Chapter Nine

  “If this turns out to be a false alarm, I get to kick your ass with no retaliation,” God informed Satan, still scowling. “I’m a very busy deity. It’s the ninth inning. Bases are loaded. The Angels are tied with the Saints and I was up to bat. This is some incredibly bad timing, Lucifer.”

  God was in all his glory. His completely rhinestoned softball uniform was so sparkly, I had to conjure up some sunglasses to look at him directly. With his normal heavenly glow plus the glittering uniform, one could easily go blind.

  “Oh, everything I told you is quite true,” Satan replied, sounding every bit the leader of Hell… until he took in his brother’s ensemble. “What the Hell are you wearing? Did you rob the dressing room of a fucking drag show?”

  “Pie hole. Zip it,” God snapped. “Remember when I asked for your opinion? Me neither. I do believe you called me, brother. Go ahead and tell me everything you know. I have a spare ten seconds.”

  Oh crap. This could get rather ugly. There was no time to let them incinerate each other again. The clock was ticking and time was running out.

  “God, God, God… if you’re going to be a smartass, you need to be smart,” Satan said with a grin and an eye roll. “Not just an ass—and a very sparkly one at that.”

  “Keep rolling your eyes, Lucifer. Perhaps you’ll find a brain somewhere in the back of your head,” God shot back.

  “Ohhhhh, brutal,” Astrid said with a giggle.

  “Hello, my lovely niece,” God said, bestowing Astrid with an adoring smile.

  Astrid threw her arms around God and squeezed him tight. “You’ve got some game, dude.”

  “Thank you, child,” God replied with a chuckle. “However, I also have a game to get back to. Satan, state your case and let’s get on with it.”

  “Mother’s banging a home-wrecker who’s not my father,” Satan announced.

  “Mother?” God asked, surprised. “Is this true?”

  “Of course, it’s true,” Satan bellowed before I could get a word in. “Do you think I lie?”

  “Umm… is that a trick question?” God asked, not even trying to bite back his laugh.

  Satan’s put-upon sigh would have been delightful if he hadn’t stomped his foot like a two-year-old and created a huge crater in my garden. “Fine point. Well made. However, it’s the truth this time.”

  “Really?” I inquired, eyeing my son with amusement.

  “You are about to get in enormous trouble for being incredibly icky, morally repugnant and loose in the morals department, Mother,” Satan accused me and then smacked himself in the head sending himself flying across the garden. “Hell on a fucking Monday, I sound like I changed teams and went to the good side. This is unacceptable.”

  “Mom?” God questioned, trying not to smile as Satan began to electrocute himself on purpose.

  “No worries, darling,” I told him. “It’s not true.”

  “None of it?” God asked, perplexed.

  “Nothing bad,” I promised. “However, there is a story to be told.”

  “Sorry, I’m late,” Bill said as he strode out into the garden.

  Satan was appalled. Astrid stared at her fingernails and tried not to laugh. And God? God squinted at Bill and then approached him warily. The hint of a smile on God’s face was enough to let me know he recognized who he saw.

  “I should have known,” God said softly as he touched Bill’s face and gazed at him with joyous wonder. “Since the beginning of time it was your wisdom playing in the background. You truly exist.”

  “I do,” Bill said.

  God bowed his head in respect. “Thank you,” he whispered reverently as Satan pitched a hellaciou
s fit in the background.

  “You are most welcome,” Bill replied, touching his forehead to God’s.

  “Smite his ass,” Satan hissed as he took a break from lighting himself on fire to partake in the action. “That’s the home-wrecker she banged.”

  “Do not speak about your mother like that,” Bill said, staring daggers at a now seriously confused Satan.

  Satan tilted his head to the left and narrowed his eyes at the person speaking to him… like a father.

  “You’re quite sure you want me to destroy this man?” God asked Satan with a tiny smirk.

  “Yesssssss,” Satan answered with a monster eye roll. “It would look better if you did it since you’re against banging multiple partners and I’m not… well, usually I’m not. My rep could take a huge hit if I did it. But…”

  “But what?” God asked with a raised brow.

  “Who are you?” Satan demanded of Bill, shoving his hands into his pockets and glaring. “Or better yet—what are you?”

  “You don’t recognize him?” God asked gleefully. “Of course, I’d be delighted to explain it to you, but then again, I can’t understand it for you.”

  Satan flipped his brother off and took a few more steps toward Bill. Bill smiled and waited.

  “If you’d like to get a good punch in, you should come a bit closer,” Bill suggested, as Satan struggled to keep his fisted hands in his pockets.

  “Am I being played?” Satan demanded.

  “If you are, it’s your own fault for not listening, little mister,” I told him, taking my place next to Bill.

  Satan slowly circled Bill and eyed him from every angle. The Devil was literally smoldering he was thinking so hard. The ground trembled beneath our feet and trees began to uproot. If my idiot offspring didn’t figure it out soon, Nirvana would be a freakin’ disaster.

  “I’ll give you three guesses,” Bill said, taking a step toward his son.

  Satan stood his ground, but I could tell it took all he had not to hug Bill. In Bill’s Sprite form, he was the cuddliest being in the Universe. He was constantly smothered by hugs, even by Satan, who didn’t like to hug anyone.