“Darcy, look. I was right, someone’s been in here.” I pointed to the door left slightly ajar by the intruder. My worktable was a mess. Some of my new paint had been spilled on the table.
I looked for something to clean it up when Darcy bounced around the counter, meowing. She pawed through a drawer, determinedly, until she brought me a paintbrush.
“Why not? Ought to see what it looks like on the wall.” Dipping the brush in the spilled paint, I coated a small section of the kitchen wall.
The weird thing about the paint was that it didn’t seem to dry at all. Trails of purple, pink, and blue endlessly swirled about like little fish in a bowl.
Outside, down in the dark bayou, Becky the Nessie wailed relentlessly.
“I wonder if everything is all right. I haven’t heard her cry like that since she and Olaf got together.”
Becky’s moans and groans became louder, frightening poor Darcy. She jumped onto my shoulder.
Her claws inadvertently protracted into my flesh, instant pain shooting through me.
I lost my balance, causing Darcy’s claws to dig even deeper. I extended one arm toward the freshly painted wall and what happened next was mind-numbingly strange.
Rather than make contact with the solid wall, Darcy and I tumbled through, just as if we’d fallen out an open window.
Chapter 9
Duke of Vulgar
One minute, we were in my kitchen in the middle of the night, the next minute, Darcy and I landed in a heap outside. The grassy field we found ourselves in was bordered by thick oak trees. By the way their twisted shadows stretched across the field, I could tell it was late afternoon.
“Meow, meow.” Darcy licked her paws.
“Ouch. Me, too.” I rubbed the knot on my thigh. “It feels like we fell…like perhaps we fell out of one of those trees.”
Something wasn’t right.
“This doesn’t look like home. Not at all. My wand! It must have fallen in the tall grass.”
A breeze chilled me, urging me to wrap my robe tighter and pull up my panda hood. I rolled onto my knees and pawed through the tall grass. “Help me find it, please.”
A once familiar sound pounded in the distance, and it rapidly grew louder. “A horse! It’s coming closer!” Then another familiar, but more alarming sound rang out; the fervent bays and yelps called out by a pack of hunting dogs in hot pursuit.
The mere thought of some killers hunting on my paranormal animal sanctuary was enough to make me nearly insane. The idea that they brazenly galloped around with hounds made me want my magic wand more than ever.
Darcy and I scratched at the ground like rabid squirrels. The search for my wand was futile.
“We’re out of time, they’re almost here. Without my wand, I’ll have to stop those hunters the old fashioned way.”
“Meow, meow, meow?”
“No, Darcy, we’re not going to hiss and scratch their eyes out. I’ll give them a good tongue lashing for sure. I might even threaten to call the sheriff.”
“Meow.”
“Lame? How is that lame? We can’t stoop to their level of cruelty.” No sooner had I uttered those words than we were surrounded by noisy terriers.
A man’s voice shouted, “Your Grace! There! Yonder, beast is trapped!” The accent was English and his speech sort of silly, as if spoken by an actor in a Shakespeare play.
I was still on my hands and knees. My oversized panda hood partially blocked my vision, but I could tell another man had dismounted. He rushed at me, the blade of his dagger gleamed. I was so frightened that I sprang up and screamed like a skewered banshee.
“Bloody Christ!” my would-be assailant shouted. “Magical beast! I command thee to shut thy mouth!”
“Magical beast? Where?” I looked over my shoulder, expecting a dragon. It took a minute of wide-eyed confusion until I realized I must have presented quite a sight crawling around in a full length panda robe. I dropped my robe to show that I was just an ordinary human. I suppose I should have acted more modestly, after all, I was wearing nothing more than a sheer pink negligée.
The man who had remained mounted fainted, and fell from his horse. Thankfully, the fall brought him back to his senses.
The man with the dagger smiled and nearly drank me up with his stare. “Squire, send forth a messenger to Heaven.”
“Yes, Your Grace. What shall it be?”
“Ask God if he is missing an angel, for it appears I have found one!” he said, returning the dagger to its sheath.
“Very witty, Your Grace,” replied the squire flatly, like he’d heard it said one too many times.
“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but it seems you’ve just attempted a cheesy pickup line on me. By the way, from the looks of your clothes, you two have lost your way to the Medieval Times Dinner Theater, or you’re the next Burger King mascot.” My jabs must have worked. The royal stranger was now the one looking dumbfounded.
“What is your name? Tell me, am I rescuing thee or capturing thee?”
“How about you tell me your names? So when I call the sheriff, I can tell him exactly who has been trespassing on my plantation.”
“Thou art a feisty wench! I shall tell you my name. Then thou shall know how to scream my name in my bedchamber tonight!” He nodded proudly to the squire. “’Tis another good one!”
“Yes, Your Wittiness.” The squire sighed.
“I am Charles, Duke of Suffolk, Earl of Sussex, and Master of Great-sex.”
He winked at me, and his smile was playful. Dare I say it was…cute? I have to admit, he was remarkably handsome, despite the medieval costume and roguish behavior. Still, he was hunting on my land.
I covered myself in the plushy panda robe. “You really are something. You need to get off my land. Just turn around, get back on your horse, and ride away before I cast a spell on you. If you’re lucky, you’ll only end up as a toad for a day.”
“Meow, meow.” Darcy contributed a vulgar insult.
The mischievous look on his face was instantly replaced by one of anger. “Squire, seize her! And her little pussy, too. This wench may be a witch and that hairy pussy may be her familiar!”
The squire was quick, too quick for a chance of escape. Before I knew it, my hands were tied together and I was walking behind the two horsemen, forced along by the pack of noisy dogs.
Darcy fared better. She bolted away from the dogs and disappeared into the nearby woods. I had no worries about her. She was smart and tough. Not only would she avoid these villains, she’d find a way to rescue me. So I hoped.
The men talked, but other than a few words, the noisy dogs made it impossible to hear what was being said. I knew they mentioned taking me to see “the maiden”, some talk about a court, and not surprisingly, some snickering about my breasts.
It was about that moment when I figured the whole scene was nothing but a vivid dream. Probably brought on by potato salad that had seen its better days, I thought.
This was one of those critical forks in the road that rarely come along in dreams. I had a choice; do I wake myself up? Of course not! Any fool knows a dream is perfectly safe. So, as weird as things had turned, I decided to happily go along just to see what happened next.
After walking about a mile, we passed through a small wooded area and came upon a huge English country manor. It was as enchanting as the ones I’d seen in paintings and from the numerous guards in armor, it was also more intimidating. The wooden gates opened and we passed through a bustling courtyard.
My dream was right on the mark. It looked just like a television series Randy and I’d watched about the Tudors.
“Greetings, Charles. You are certainly the best huntsman in the kingdom. Most men return with hares or stags, you return with wenches! What is this one like? She appears to wear the hide of a strange beast. And look! She wears the heads of unicorns upon her feet! I would advise you to not take her lightly. She may be a sorceress.”
“There is nothing to fear, Lord
Tossinoff. This is not the hag that is thy mother-in-law! This fair one is as beautiful as my other foundling, the Maiden Bangladesh. Squire, examine her ghastly and most beastly robe to see if her name is written, as was the Maiden Bangladesh’s name, on her robes.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the young squire replied, and went to work, apparently looking for garment labels sewn onto my panda robe. “I found it! Her name is written in a strange tongue. It says her name is Hecho En Mexico.”
“Hecho En Mexico? That is strange, indeed! That cannot be her name.”
“There’s more, Sire. Machine wash warm, gentle cycle, no bleach, tumble dry.”
“Stop! It is a magic spell! Do not utter another word of it, lest we all be cursed!” Lord Tossinoff shouted.
The rakish duke stared at me, lustfully. “She may very well be a sorceress. Oh, but what a spell she has already cast upon my heart! And my cock! Tell me, wench, how are you called?”
I had to think for a minute. I needed a name that would sound more English. If I remembered history correctly, the Tudor monarchs were hell-bent on waging war in Ireland. I couldn’t tell them my name was O’Leary, so I used the first English sounding name to come to mind. “I am Gertie, of Worchestershirerer-er. I am a lady and you, sir, are a horse’s ass.”
“Ha! I will greatly enjoy having both you and the Maiden Bangladesh in my bed tonight!” the Duke roared.
Lord Tossinoff’s eyes squinted. “Did you say Worchestershirerer-er?”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“That is quite a mouthful,” Lord Tossinoff replied.
The duke slapped Tossinoff’s back. “That is what she sayeth!”
I couldn’t help myself. I groaned, loudly. “Even in my dreams—these men!”
The squire took me away from the dogs and led me through a small door on the side of the main house. It turned out to be the servants’ entrance. The first room was busy. Both men and women were preparing vegetables and meats while cooks tended to numerous steaming kettles. Everyone made way for the squire, avoiding eye contact with me. Obviously, this was a routine occurrence. I wondered if they were preparing for a feast and I was simply another item for the menu.
“Lady, my apologies.” The squire untied my hands and opened the door to another room. “You will stay here with the Maiden Bangladesh. Someone will be along to help you prepare for tonight’s festivities.”
“Festivities?” I asked as he led me in, but he didn’t answer. The door latched shut and I heard the lock set.
Several flickering candles provided enough light for me take stock of my cell. Only, it wasn’t the prison cell I expected. It was a richly furnished room. “Hello? Is anyone here?” I called out. “Maiden Bangladesh? Are you here? Or don’t you speak English? I don’t know the language of Bangladesh.”
“Gertie?” a familiar female voice answered. “Gertie O’Leary? Thank God!”
Chapter 10
Meet Jessica
“Jessica? What in the name of Mary are you doing in my dream? I don’t mind. Really, you’re more than welcome to stay.” It was Jessica, all right. From her loose black curls to her creamy white complexion and cute round features, I knew it.
Jessica blinked, as if she were trying to clear the vision of her big brown eyes. “Huh?”
Now, I should take a few minutes to explain who Jessica is. She’s Randy’s cousin. We met recently at my friend Leigh’s wedding and from the minute I met her, I knew we’d someday become the best of friends.
Not only were we both in our early twenties, she shared my love of animals. We had a conversation that let me know she was sweet and wet behind the ears, much the way people describe me. She made many references to her love for romance novels, and she often viewed the world through the eyes of her favorite authors.
In that respect, she was just like my first and bestest friend, Leigh.
Allow me to delve into the recent past as I recall one of the first conversations we had as a group with Jessica.
It was during that conversation that I learned she was also much like me. It was the morning after Leigh and Hunter’s wedding. Randy, Kelly, Lindsey, Ezzy, and I were having brunch at the plantation. Jessica came down for the wedding, not as a guest but as one of the helpers Randy hired.
Of course, Kelly was anxious to catch up on things with her cousin, so she invited Jessica to brunch with us. Ezzy’s goal was to be sure Jessica hadn’t learned that we were witches, or that paranormal creatures existed on my plantation.
As sometimes happens when you have a group of single friends in their twenties having brunch, the topic of conversation turned to love and intimacy.
“Kelly, I hope you don’t mind me asking this. It’s too awkward to talk to my mom about.”
“Nothing too awkward ‘round here,” Randy muttered.
“Randy’s right. Feel free to talk about whatever is on your mind.”
“Birth control,” Jessica said as straightforwardly as possible. “I’ve got a little problem.”
“Yikes. Well, how big? Like one that will join us for brunch in about eight months?” Kelly asked.
“Don’t ask Gertie for advice. Last year she accidentally took Valium instead of birth control.” Randy snickered.
“It just so happens that I’m allergic to all forms of the birth control pill, injection, anything. Lucky me! Right?”
“So condoms were pretty much your last option?” Lindsey asked, keeping the conversation on topic.
“Yup.” Jessica nodded. “And it scared the hell out of me. I can’t tell you how many times I’d been warned about condoms breaking. After hearing those horror stories, I was beginning to imagine the things were so fragile they were made out of tissue paper. So, I figured it’d be best to take matters into my own hands and buy some good quality ones, rather than have him trying to save a few bucks.”
Kelly raised her hand like she readied to testify on the stand. “I hear you there. One time, I was with a guy who bought some goofy looking thing from a vending machine in a gas station men’s room. He called it a French tickler. It had a little rubbery thing on the tip that looked like a Martian hedgehog. I was like, seriously? Who are you planning to fuck with that thing? E.T.?”
“Exactly the kind of thing I wanted to avoid. I needed to trust the condom. The last thing I wanted was for him to empty his sack of warm seed in me on accident.”
Ezzy choked on her beignet. “Brughub-guurble! Lords of darkness! Did you call it his seed? Who were you screwing? The gardener?”
“I don’t know. That’s what they call it in some of the books I read.”
“What the hell are you reading, the Farmer’s Almanac?” Ezzy amplified her sarcasm with the usual dramatic flair, her arms flung above her head.
“No! Romance novels, silly. So anyway, I went to the pharmacy and I got the extra strength ones.”
“Uh…extra strength condoms?” Randy’s eyebrows twisted up like two pipe cleaners on a preschooler’s art project.
“Uh huh. I guess I was inspired by Mom. You know, when she buys trash bags she insists on those super-strong force flex ones. The first ones I came across said ‘ultra-thin’ and those just sounded way too flimsy to hold back a stampeding herd of sperm. So I got the ones labeled Ultra-Double-Magnum. They just sounded tough, just like those extra strong trash bags. Seemed like a better choice than the ultra-thin.”
“Wait. Jessica. Ultra-Magnum describes the size, not the strength. They’re extra-large, to fit guys with zucchini-sized cocks.”
“Yeah, so I found out. Poor Dan, I think he felt intimidated. Really, he couldn’t even roll it on like the instructions said. He had to unroll it first, then pull it on like a sock that was too big. He said it felt like dropping a wiener in a Walmart bag. Christ. I had to wrap my hair scrunchie around the base to keep it from falling off. He felt so bad, he went as limp as a noodle.”
“Still, it’s got to be more reliable than the shoot and scoot method,” I noted.
“S
hoot and scoot? I think you’ve got the whole ‘pulling-out method’ concept reversed, Gertie,” Lindsey said while poking a finger into her cupped hand.
That’s where I’ll end my recollection because the conversation went straight to the gutter from there.
Chapter 11
Sorting It Out
“I’ve never had a dream so vivid.”
“Gertie, this is not a dream. I’m serious. We’ve both gone back in time. I don’t know how it happened, but I’m sure of it. Here, take my hand.”
Jessica’s hand was warm and tender. “Nice nails. Is that OPI’s ‘Pink Before You Leap’, or something new?” A lightbulb flickered in my head, then it flashed to full luminosity. A fear suddenly gripped my heart. “Brain damage! Jaysus!”
“Thanks. Um, haven’t seen Brain Damage or Jaysus before. This is ‘Kiss Me On My Tulips’. Nice, right? Love OPI.”
“It’s a nice color, Jessica, but I meant I’ve given myself brain damage from that poisoned potato salad. I could be stuck hallucinating like this forever.”
“It’s worse than brain damage. We’ve truly both gone back in time. My guess is we’re in England at the time of King Henry VIII. I don’t know how it happened, it just did.”
“Jessica, tell me exactly what you were doing before you came here.”
“Okay, but promise you won’t get mad?”
“Cross my heart. Go ahead.”
“Well, remember when I was at your place for Leigh’s wedding? I know I saw a Bigfoot on the edge of the woods. I told Randy and Kelly, but they just made fun of me. I know what I saw. Before I left, I saw a pair of those creatures. It looked like they were sharing something. I was pretty far away, but to me, it looked like they were taking turns drinking from a tall glass, with a straw. I tried to get closer, but they took off for the swamp.”
“Max’s bong.”
“What? Max’s bong? What do you mean?”
“Hunter’s dad, Max. When he visited the plantation last year, he left his bong for Wills and Kate. They’re my Sasquatches. They’re always carrying on with that thing. Whatever it is, they sure like to play with it.”
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