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Fashionably Forever After: Book Ten, The Hot Damned Series

Page 21

by Robyn Peterman


  “Umm… what does a pentagon actually look like?” Sassy asked, looking somewhat bewildered.

  With a wave of her hand, Marge produced a drawing of a pentagon and gave it to Sassy. Sassy studied the picture thirty-seven seconds too long for my sanity.

  “Nope, it doesn’t look like this,” she announced to a very relieved audience. “Looks more like a hand and finger weenies with balls.”

  “Well, that certainly makes it all better,” I snapped, shoving Fat Bastard off my lap and Sassy off my bed.

  Hopping to my feet, I began to pace the room. I knew I was coming unhinged, but this was horrifying. Roger must be a basket case. He was always a slight basket case, but this… this would make a sane rabbit a freakin’ mess.

  “I have to fix it,” I muttered, pacing like a caged tiger hopped up on a vat of caffeine and multiple boxes of Twinkies. “I really didn’t want to touch it, but I’m going to have to. Maybe if I wear gloves I won’t puke on him. I mean, it would be bad if I hurled on him after I gave him a pants-full of peckers. And who ever even heard of a spell going this wrong? It’s appalling. I’m completely willing to hand myself over to the authorities and go back to the pokey. I just want you all to make sure my children know how much I love them and don’t tell them why I had to live out my life doing hard time until they’re at least thirty… or fifty… or never. Just make something up that sounds good. The only thing I request is that I don’t have to wear orange. It clashes so badly with my hair, I don’t think I would survive it. Do you all feel me here?”

  “Zelda, calm down,” Baba Yaga snapped in a brook no bullshit voice.

  I was actually relieved she was so bossy until I looked over at her and lost the use of speech.

  She was dressed in sunshine yellow spandex from head to toe. Her wrists were adorned with so many black rubber bracelets, I figured she could bounce or float on water. The silver sequined cone-shaped bra over the unitard could put an eye out. But the gauzy purple skirt trimmed in feathers and tiny pictures of Madonna’s face was the topper—from hell.

  Baba Yaga, aka Carol, was working an enormous hairdo that must have taken ten cans of hairspray to hold up and her eyes were rimmed with yellow glitter. The most shocking part of all was that even though the woman looked like a reject from a Madonna video, she was still gorgeous.

  Unreal.

  As much as I wanted the voice of reason to tell me what to do, it was going to be difficult to make eye contact with her and not laugh.

  “Trying,” I said, staring at her nose. It was the only thing on her face that didn’t sparkle. “I’m just going to have to reverse the spell.”

  “Bad idea,” Marge said.

  Thankfully Marge had taste and was easy on the eye. She and Baba Yaga were sisters and looked alarmingly alike, but Marge wasn’t permanently stuck in the eighties.

  “Why?” I asked. “I gave him too many John Holmeses with a spell. I can take them away with a spell.”

  “What exactly does John Holmes have to do with this?” Marge asked with tremendous trepidation.

  She feared my answer—as well she should.

  However, Sassy decided to take over and we all became terrified.

  “There was a genitalia—another French word or possibly Swedish—naming ceremony about a year ago,” Sassy informed an increasingly pale Marge. “Roger admitted he named his member John Holmes—which I have to say is wildly inaccurate. Anyhoo, Zelda is just avoiding having to come up with polite penis terms by calling Roger’s wang by its proper name.”

  “I see,” Marge said, pressing the bridge of her nose and biting back either laughter or bile.

  “So I say we just decide on one single name for the salami and this will all go much smoother,” Sassy suggested as if that would solve the heinous fact that I’d more than doubled Roger’s salami.

  “I put my vote in for rod, tallywhacker or dong. Youse can’t go wrong with dem names,” Boba Fett volunteered.

  “Youse is forgettin’ 100% beef thermometer, The General and pork sword,” Fat Bastard added.

  “Nah, youse guys got it all wrong. I’d go for tent pole or meat popsicle,” Jango Fett rounded out the disgusting suggestion pile.

  “How about this?” I stated calmly as I waved my hand and rendered my revolting familiars mute.

  “Thank you,” Marge said. “However, until we get to the bottom of what happened, I don’t think you should use magic, Zelda.”

  “That’s kind of harsh,” Sassy commented, coming to my defense.

  It was harsh—really harsh, but Marge was right. I’d used dark magic on Roger and didn’t even realize it was happening. Goddess only knew what other tragedies I could conjure up.

  Twisting my hair in my fingers, I sighed and plopped back down on the bed. “Marge is right,” I said, defeated. “I’m a danger to myself and others right now. If I keep going like this, we could have a town of seventy-five people with enough genitalia for three hundred.”

  Thankfully no one had a comment for that. I don’t think I would have been able to stop myself from zapping someone who agreed with my grim statement.

  “She needs to be trained,” Baba Yaga stated the obvious. “If Zelda can’t control the dark, it will control her.”

  “And who exactly is going to train her?” Mac asked, not liking the direction of the conversation any more than I did.

  “Has to be someone who has dark magic,” Fabio said.

  “I have dark magic,” Sassy announced with a shudder. “However, I’d like to go on record now saying I have no fucking idea how to use it either. And in solidarity—pretty sure that’s a German word—with my best friend Zelda, I’m not going to use magic either. If she gave Roger five… wait, what did we decide to call them?”

  “We didn’t,” Jeeves told her.

  “Okay then I’m just going to randomly pick a name. Cool?”

  When no one answered she took that as a yes.

  “If Zelda aka Houston gave Roger five badoinkadoinks, I’m liable to saddle someone with ten to twenty. That would be a total shit show and pants would be a real problem. I don’t even know if pants would be a possibility and since winter is coming… well, you all get my drift. Right?”

  “Unfortunately we do,” Baba Yaga said, shaking her head. “I think it’s best if you don’t say anything else for at least thirty minutes, Sassy.”

  “Is that an order or suggestion?” Sassy asked.

  “Order,” everyone in the room said in unison.

  “There’s really only one option,” Marge said as her lovely face turned pink with embarrassment.

  “And that is?” Mac asked.

  “We bring Bermangoggleshitz to Assjacket,” Marge announced.

  “My dad?” Sassy asked, clearly forgetting she wasn’t supposed to speak. “Here? In Assjacket?”

  Baba Yaga nodded her head and watched her sister with interest. “Yes. I agree. He’s working on redeeming himself. This might be just the thing for him to prove he’s serious about becoming a better warlock.”

  “I don’t like it one bit,” Mac said through gritted teeth.

  “Neither do I,” Fabio said. “But I have to agree with Marge and Carol on this one. He’s the only one to train the girls to use the dark sorcery without hurting themselves or anyone else.”

  “And you think he’ll do it?” Mac growled. “He’ll play by the rules?”

  “He wants something here,” Baba Yaga said, still staring at her sister. “So yes, I believe he will abide by any conditions we set. And if he doesn’t, I will end him.”

  “You can do that? You can kill him?” I asked taken by surprise.

  “I’m the Baba fucking Yaga,” she said with a wide grin. “I can do whatever I want. Plus there are many things far worse than death, my child.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered, leaning on Mac for support. “Five badoinkadoinks is one of those things.”

  “Trust me,” Baba Yaga said. “Roger is a bit… how can I put this politely… pervy. H
e’ll be more disappointed when he’s back to one than he is devastated that he has five.”

  “I hope you’re right,” I said, closing my eyes and breathing in the delicious scent of my mate. Mac’s presence alone gave me strength.

  All I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and pretend today hadn’t happened. I wanted to play with my babies and then act out a pornographic fairy tale with Mac when the kids went to bed…

  But all that would have to wait. I had penance to pay. And pay it I would.

  Shitshitshitshit.

  www.robynpeterman.com/threes-a-charm

  Note From The Author

  If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a positive review or rating on the site where you purchased it. Reader reviews help my books continue to be valued by resellers and help new readers make decisions about reading them.

  You are the reason I write these stories and I sincerely appreciate each of you!

  Many thanks for your support,

  ~ Robyn Peterman

  www.robynpeterman.com

  Robyn’s Book List

  (in correct reading order)

  HOT DAMNED SERIES

  Fashionably Dead

  Fashionably Dead Down Under

  Hell on Heels

  Fashionably Dead in Diapers

  A Fashionably Dead Christmas

  Fashionably Hotter Than Hell

  Fashionably Dead and Wed

  Fashionably Fanged

  Fashionably Flawed

  A Fashionably Dead Dairy

  Fashionably Forever After

  SHIFT HAPPENS SERIES

  Ready to Were

  Some Were in Time

  No Were To Run

  Were Me Out

  MAGIC AND MAYHEM SERIES

  Switching Hour

  Witch Glitch

  A Witch in Time

  Magically Delicious

  A Tale of Two Witches

  Three’s A Charm

  HANDCUFFS AND HAPPILY EVER AFTERS SERIES

  How Hard Can it Be?

  Size Matters

  Cop a Feel

  If after reading all the above you are still wanting more adventure and zany fun, read Pirate Dave and His Randy Adventures, the romance novel budding novelist Rena was helping wicked Evangeline write in How Hard Can It Be?

  Warning: Pirate Dave Contains Romance Satire, Spoofing, and Pirates with Two Pork Swords.

  About Robyn Peterman

  Robyn Peterman writes because the people inside her head won’t leave her alone until she gives them life on paper.

  Her addictions include laughing really hard with friends, shoes (the expensive kind), Target, Coke Zero Cherry with extra ice in a Styrofoam cup, bejeweled reading glasses, her kids, her super-hot hubby and collecting stray animals.

  A former professional actress with Broadway, film and T.V. credits, she now lives in the South with her family and too many animals to count.

  Writing gives her peace and makes her whole, plus having a job where you can work in your underpants works really well for her. You can leave Robyn a message via the Contact Page and she’ll get back to you as soon as her bizarre life permits! She loves to hear from her fans!

  Fun Ways To Connect With Robyn

  www.robynpeterman.com

  robyn@robynpeterman.com

 

 

 


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