Critical Failures VII

by Robert Bevan

  “Ha ha,” said Dave, wishing Tim would stop talking to him for just one minute. “I didn't hear you right. I walked away to take a piss.” Good thinking, Dave.

  “We've got a little over an hour to kill, and Officer Williams here wants to know more about your magic. I thought we might grab something to eat. Would you prefer the Waffle House or Denny's?”

  “Uh-huh.” Dave had gotten his rhythm back and was determined to squirt as quickly as he could because any further interruptions would make it that much more difficult to get going again.

  “Thank you, Dave. That's very helpful.”

  “You bet.”

  Vaeryn was sitting on the street, waiting for Tim and Officer Williams to finish talking about whatever they were talking about. She was staring at a crack in the pavement. Her moist pouty lips were at just the right height for Dave's dick.

  And just like that, he had his rhythm down again. He was escalating. If nobody interrupted him he could be finished in less than –

  Oh God. Here it comes. Here... it... comes...

  Dave stroked harder and faster as he came closer and closer to his climax. He was beyond the possibility of interruption now.

  Do you like that, you pointy-eared bitch? I'm gonna fuck that pussy. I'm gonna fuck that ass. I'm gonna fuck those tits. I'll scratch you and bite you and lick the blood from your –

  Dave closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing as he released. It was a solid three-squirt load. It would have slathered those little elf tits if...

  Whoa, Dave. What the fuck was all that about biting and scratching and blood licking? That's some fucked up shit. Where did that even come from? I'm not into any of –

  Tim cleared his throat.

  When Dave opened his eyes, Tim was looking right at him.

  Shit! Am I –

  He looked down, but couldn't see his hand still holding his dick. He couldn't see his open robe. Nothing. He was still invisible. Then how did Tim know...

  Oh shit.

  Dave looked down at the street. The crack in the pavement Vaeryn had been staring at now looked like Splooge Lake on a map of Shametown. She was still staring at it, but now with a much more disgusted look on her face.

  “Can I have my ring back?” asked Tim.

  “In a minute,” Dave croaked.

  “By all means, take your time.”

  Even Officer Williams looked knowingly uncomfortable.

  Dave pulled his robe closed and tied it, then ran his hand down the front of it again and again until he couldn't feel his dick poking forward. He stepped away from his jizz puddle before removing the ring. There was no point in keeping everyone's attention focused there.

  He stood next to Officer Williams car and slipped the ring off. “So, did we decide on a place to eat?”

  Everyone turned to him, appearing grateful that he'd moved. Maybe they would all silently agree not to bring up what had just happened.

  “It seems the dwarf has worked up an appetite,” said Vaeryn. “I wonder what might have brought that on so suddenly.”

  “Taco Bell,” said Tim. “It won't raise as big a red flag if we go through the drive-thru there covered in blood.”

  “Great idea,” said Dave. He wasn't looking forward to explosive diarrhea, but he was relieved to be talking about anything other than his jizz on the street. Then again, maybe his dwarven stomach could take it. He had a high Constitution score and a +2 bonus to Saving Throws against poison, but would that be enough to handle Taco Bell? Now that he thought about it, he was kind of looking forward to finding out.

  Chapter 14

  Randy awakened to the unpleasant sensation of being lightly but repeatedly slapped in the face. He opened his eyes to the even more unpleasant sensation of seeing Denise's face right in front of his. She smelled like booze and dog breath.

  “Cheese n' crackers!” cried Randy. “Denise, what are you doing?”

  “You got to get up, Randy,” Denise whispered. “There is an honest to God n-n-n-colored feller in the tavern!”

  Randy rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Jay? Is he awake? You want me to make y'all breakfast?”

  “No, I don't want you to make him no goddamn breakfast, Randy! Who the fuck is J?”

  “He showed up last night after you passed out on the floor behind the bar. He seems nice.”

  Denise rolled her eyes. “I'm glad you two got so chummy.” She gave Randy another light slap on the cheek. “Dammit, Randy. Did it not occur to you that J might stand for Mordred?”

  “I had assumed Jay is his name, rather than just an initial. And Mordred starts with an M.”

  Denise stood up and folded her arms. “It ain't very nice of you to mock my disability like that.”

  “What?”

  “You know I forgot how to read when I came into this world.”

  “I'm sorry, Denise. That was insensitive of me.”

  “I forgive you.”

  Randy sat up and glanced at Jay to make sure he was still asleep. “Speaking of disabilities, Jay said he was in a wheelchair before Mordred sent him here.”

  Denise turned to Jay. “That guy's a cripple?”

  “Not no more. When he came to this world, his legs worked just fine. Ain't that something?”

  “Yeah, that's somethin' alright.” Denise stroked her beard and nodded slowly, then grinned. “Boy Randy, he done played you good.”

  Randy didn't like where he thought this might be going, but it was best to let it run its course. “What are you talking about now?”

  “Can't you see he's playin' the race card? You accuse him of anything, and he calls you a racist. Why you think they're all on welfare back home?”

  “He said he had a job,” said Randy.

  Denise shook her head. “Fuckin' Affirmative Action bullshit. This is exactly why we can't afford –”

  “Good morning!” said Randy as Jay stretched and yawned at the bar.

  “Good morning,” said Jay. “You know what? Compared to my cell, this bar felt like Sealy Posturepedic or some shit.”

  Denise cocked an eyebrow. “You was in a cell, you say? What a surprise.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Mordred put Jay in a cell when he first arrived here quite some time ago,” Randy hastily explained to Denise. “He only recently managed to escape.”

  Denise circled Jay, scrutinizing him. “That's real interesting timing. I reckon that was right around the same time Mordred went AWOL from Earth?”

  “That makes sense,” said Jay. “Mordred's disappearance was what forced me to start killing rats. And then somehow or another, that led to me being able to pick locks.”

  “You got an answer for everything, ain't you?” Denise stopped in front of Jay and stared up at him. “Well tell me, Mr. Jay, if that is your real name. What's your answer to this?” She pulled up her shirt, thrusting her bare hairy breasts out toward him.

  Jay jumped back. “The fuck?”

  “Denise!” said Randy. “Put those away right now!”

  But Denise waddled after Jay like a penguin in heat, backing him into a corner. “Come on, big boy. Whip out that black mamba and ride me like an underground railroad.”

  “DENISE!”

  “Fuck this,” said Jay, feigning left then dashing right past Denise. “I'm outta here.” He ran out the front door and slammed it shut behind him.

  Denise put her hands on her hips and looked as smugly at Randy as someone can look with their hairy tits hanging out. “Satisfied?”

  Randy had absolutely no idea what satisfaction he was supposed to have derived from what just went down. “No, I ain't!”

  “Grab your shit. We gotta go after Mordred.”

  “I'm tellin' you, that ain't Mordred!”

  Denise pulled down her shirt. “Goddammit, Randy. You got to take off them semen-tinted glasses and wake up to what's what. How much more evidence do you need?”

  “What evidence? You pulled out your titties and threw yourself at him, and
he ran out the door.”

  Denise closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay. I s'pose it ain't fair to expect you to have the same instincts that I acquired over twelve years on the force. But come on, Randy. You think I was actually tryin' to fuck that guy?”

  Randy frowned. “Well that's what you done to pretty much every man you've crossed paths with since we been here.”

  “I was settin' a trap. It's a trick we use at the station to trick perps into unintentionally giving us information.”

  “You try to have sex with them?”

  “No, you fuckin' retard! It's called misdirection. We pretend we're after one thing, when we really want something else. The perp is so focused on not saying the first thing that their defense is down about the other.”

  To Randy's surprise, Denise sounded sincere. “Okay. I'm willing to listen.”

  “Think about it. We already expected Mordred to show, right?”

  “It was a possibility we were warned of.”

  “And this guy's timing doesn't seem mighty convenient to you?”

  “He explained that,” said Randy. “I told you, he was –”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Denise waved her hand dismissively at Randy. “Of course he's gonna make up some lame-ass backstory to throw us off his scent. But think about this. All these Mordreds have been running around with their magic weapons gettin' rich and powerful so they can come after us, right?”

  “That's the theory.”

  “With that kind of money and power, he could have the finest bitches in the land lined up 'round the block to smoke his pole whenever he wants it smoked, right?”

  Randy shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “So it would make sense for him to turn down the advances of someone slightly beneath the swimsuit model level of beauty he's become accustomed to, right?”

  “Sure.” Randy didn't have the heart to vocally question Denise's self-assessment of her own allure. He tried a more objective argument. “Other fellers have turned you down. Does that make them all Mordreds?”

  “That is an excellent observation, Randy.”

  Randy was surprised by the compliment and relieved that he'd managed to avoid hurting Denise's feelings. “Thank you.”

  Denise grinned. “Now let me ask you this. When's the last time you heard of a colored feller gettin' out of the joint and turning down sex with a white woman?”

  Randy held back a gasp. As amazingly horrible as Denise's logic was, she sounded very sincere with her conclusion. A direct and rational argument would only upset her. He tried a more roundabout approach.

  “Jay didn't look too powerful to me. I mean, if he was Mordred, what was stoppin' him from kickin' our butts and taking over the place?” He knew Denise's answer before she said it.

  “The gods, you dipshit! He knows we're on to him, and he's powerless against us. Now's the perfect time to nab us another Mordred!”

  Denise's theory was starting to make more sense than Randy was comfortable admitting.

  “I reckon it don't matter too much now. Mordred or not, he's long gone while we was standing here talkin' about him.”

  “Please,” said Denise. “He couldn't have gotten that far. And if there's anything my years on the force trained me for, it's hunting down a suspicious black man.”

  Chapter 15

  Chaz sat in the sand, nibbling a curly fry and nervously staring up at the Crescent Shadow. It could disappear at any moment, leaving him and Julian stranded in the desert. He took a small sip from his cup of Dr. Pepper. It was warm and diluted with melted ice and tasted like shit, but if he drank it sparingly, it might buy him enough time to make it out of the desert alive.

  “There you are,” said Ravenus from behind Chaz.

  Chaz jumped, and the cup fell out of his hand. The watered-down Dr. Pepper disappeared into the sand.

  “Shit!” cried Chaz. He turned to glare at Ravenus. “Look what you made me do!” It was difficult to express the sincerity of his anger while speaking in a goofy British accent.

  “Very good,” said Ravenus. “Is that a zucchini?”

  “What?” Chaz looked back. A skinny green plant had sprouted from the sand and produced a single cucumber. He ripped it off and threw it at Ravenus. “It's a cucumber!”

  Ravenus dodged the attack and glared back at Chaz. “I'm very sorry. I had no idea you were so sensitive about vegetable classifications.”

  “What took you so long?” asked Chaz as he glanced back to make sure Julian hadn't seen him chuck a cucumber at his familiar. Fortunately, Julian was still deep in meditation. Chaz turned back to Ravenus. “What were you doing up there?”

  “Just as I was asked. I was looking for someone who could help you.”

  Chaz rolled his finger impatiently. “And...?”

  “And nothing else. I was under the impression that we were under some time pressure.”

  “I meant, and did you find anyone who could help us?”

  “Oh yes. Several people, actually.”

  “And...?”

  Ravenus cocked his head sideways. “And others who could not?”

  Chaz threw his empty cup at Ravenus. “And where's the fucking help?”

  “Ah,” said Ravenus. “There appears to have been some miscommunication between us. I said that I found several people who could help you. None, however, who were willing to.”

  “Why?”

  “They claimed that if they wanted the place flooded with every two-bit sorcerer's apprentice and their stupid birds, they wouldn't have bothered putting it on an island hovering over the desert.”

  “Did you mention that we are going to die if they don't help us?”

  Ravenus nodded. “I did mention that.”

  “And...?” Chaz caught himself before Ravenus had time to answer with something stupid. “And how did they respond?”

  “One of them cast a spell on me which rendered me unable to move. Then they laughed and tossed me back and forth until one of them threw me too hard and I sailed over the edge of the island. I was fortunate that the spell wore off before I hit the ground.”

  Chaz felt bad for throwing the cucumber at him. “What a bunch of assholes.”

  “What is an asshole?”

  Chaz didn't know if Ravenus was asking about the meaning as Chaz had said it, or a literal asshole. The former definition would be the least uncomfortable to explain.

  “It's a word we use to describe people we don't like.”

  “Yes, I've heard you all say it enough times to gather that much. But what does the actual word mean?”

  Shit.

  Chaz thought of the most straightforward way he could put it. “It's the hole in your butt that shit comes out of.” That wasn't so bad.

  “Like a cloaca?”

  “I don't know. What the fuck is a cloaca?”

  “It is the orifice from which I shit,” explained Ravenus.

  “Then yes. An asshole is just like a –”

  “And with which I engage in the act of mating.”

  “Oh,” said Chaz. “In that case, it's not really the same at all.” The conversation had now veered outside of Chaz's comfort zone. It felt weird and inappropriate, like he was having 'the talk' with someone else's kid. He glanced back at Julian, hoping he would snap out of his trance and take over. “Why are we even talking about this? You can talk to Julian about your cloacas and assholes any time you want.”

  “The subject matter makes him feel... uncomfortable.”

  “It makes me feel uncomfortable as well.”

  “Yes,” said Ravenus. “But your feelings are not important to me.”

  Chaz wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but that would undoubtedly lead to an even more uncomfortable series of questions. He still had a few hours to kill until Julian came out of his trance, and he was exhausted. Explaining the birds and the bees to Ravenus might help keep him awake until Julian woke up.

  “In mammals, those two... acts are carried out via separate organs. Mal
es have what is called a dick. It looks kind of like that cucumber.”

  “Yes, I've seen several of you pull yours out.”

  “I'm sure you have. That's what we use for mating.”

  “You have yellow semen? My, but you produce quite a lot of it.”

  Ew. Who the fuck's dick did he see? Maybe Cooper had –

  Chaz laughed. “Okay, no. You're thinking of urine. I misspoke before. The dick is used to get rid of waste as well as for sexual purposes.”

  “Like the cloaca?”

  “I guess.”

  “But the asshole is strictly for getting rid of waste, and serves no sexual purpose.”

  Chaz frowned. “Well, that's not entirely true either.”

  This went on for hours until Chaz was questioning how much he actually understood about human sexuality.

  *

  “What about when she's not using it for mating purposes?” asked Ravenus. “Can she store things in it?”

  Chaz grimaced. “Like what?”

  “I don't know. Seeds, acorns, a hidden stabbing instrument, perhaps?”

  “Are you talking about a dagger? Jesus, Ravenus! I don't know. I guess so, but why would she even want to –”

  “What are you two talking about?” asked Julian, finally awake from his trance with a concerned expression on his face.

  “Nothing!” said Chaz, unsure of how much of the most recent part of the conversation he'd overheard, and what he might have made out of it.

  “Pussies!” said Ravenus.

  Julian frowned at Chaz. “Pussies? Really? I can't rest for four hours without you stealing my familiar's innocence?”

  “He had some questions, and I did my best to provide honest answers.”

  “Chaz says they can be used to store acorns and daggers,” said Ravenus.

  Julian gaped at Chaz, but Chaz cut him off before he could say anything.

  “I did not say that. He asked, and I said... You know what? We can talk about this later. We're lucky the island hasn't hopped yet. Do you have any spells that can get us up there?”

  “I don't know,” said Julian. “I haven't prepared my spells yet.”