Madison's Mess

by Robyn Peterman

  “Neville, I think they’re gone,” Madison said, gently trying to pull him away.

  “Nope. Me fix it,” he said, patting Madison’s hand to comfort her.

  And I’ll be damned if the little alien dude didn’t do just that.

  “Hold breath,” Neville warned us with a giggle. “It be stinky.”

  With a wave of his chubby little hands, a cloud of noxious gold and green smoke filled the room. I see couldn’t a thing, but I felt the enchantment—and it smelled like Hades on trash day in July. It was strong and felt warm as it feathered across my skin.

  “Holy hell and seashells,” Madison whispered as the smoke cleared.

  A fully healed Tiny and Bart slowly sat up looking more shell shocked than we felt.

  “Who are you?” Tiny asked, reaching out to touch Neville.

  “Me Neville,” he answered, crawling into the huge Gnome’s lap and giving him a hug. “Me save you.”

  The two Gnomes looked at each other and began to cry. For big hairy dudes with deadly reputations, they certainly cried a lot. Gently putting Neville on the floor, Tiny and Bart got on their knees and bowed to the child.

  “Salvation has come,” Bart whispered. “The gods have been listening.”

  Their recognition of the rightful heir to the Gnome throne made my gut clench. It was beautifully terrifying. They were right and they were wrong. I didn’t want to make them cry anymore because it smelled even worse than Neville’s magic, but this shit wasn’t going to fly just yet.

  “Dudes,” I said, scooping my little alien guy up and putting him into the backpack. “Salvation needs to grow up first. You know—go to school, play little league baseball, throw shit at cars, make prank phone calls to people he doesn’t know, ride a rollercoaster naked, sneak into a Piggly Wiggly and rearrange all the food so the humans lose their shit the next time they shop, eat pop rocks and drink a Sprite, streak at a public event, jump off a…”

  “Rick,” Madison said, trying to bite back a grin. “Do you actually have a point here?”

  I had to think about that for a second. “Yes. Neville has to leave before he can come back to stay. If King Stew was able to kill the little alien dude’s father, he’ll eat Neville for lunch. My little buddy is not ready for this shit yet and I’m not letting him stay here. Period. If anyone has a problem with that, they’ll have to take it up with me.” Crossing my arms over my chest and letting my fangs show, I eyed Tiny and Bart.

  “Wee-wee wolf is going to be a great daddy someday,” Petunia commented with a laugh. “A little unorthodox, but very good.”

  “Thank you,” I said. The thought of having a mini Madison was amazing. The thought of a mini me was fucking terrifying. Hopefully, we’d only have girls.

  “Welcome,” she replied.

  “Rick is right,” Madison said, helping the enormous Gnomes to their feet. “We need to get Neville out of here. Tiny and Bart, will you help us do that?”

  “Madison Diane with the bootylicious can and Jack Rick with the enormous dick, we would be humbled to help our savior escape,” Bart said smiling so wide it was alarming.

  “And we will wait anxiously for the day of his return,” Tiny added, patting the backpack reverently. “You have given us hope.”

  “Great,” I said, beginning to move. “If four of the army nards were on patrol down here, I’d bet my fangs more will come when the headless shits don’t return. Let’s haul ass.”

  And we did.

  But it was too late.

  Twenty vicious looking Gnomes blocked the entrance of the tunnel to freedom.

  “I can’t hit that many nards at the same time,” Madison whispered as our small group jerked to a halt.

  Accessing the incredibly shitty situation, I tried to figure out the odds of taking on all twenty. They sucked. “We go with them and pull a new plan out of our asses when the time is right.”

  “That’s a dangerous plan,” Petunia muttered.

  “Danger is my middle name,” I shot back under my breath.

  “Wait. I thought your middle name was Rick,” Tiny whispered, confused.

  Madison’s muffled giggle was music to my ears. The Mermaid was my world and if she could laugh in the face of danger that was potentially life ending so could I.

  I closed my eyes for a second. However, if we made it out of this shit alive, I was going to consider playing it safe.

  Nah, who was I kidding? Danger really should be my middle name. Jack Danger Rick with the enormous dick had a very nice ring to it.

  19

  Madison

  King Stew’s chambers were as gaudy and horrifying as the Gnome himself. The walls and floor were pure sparkling gold. Normally, as a Mermaid, I loved shiny things, but this was positively macabre. The bones of what I could only guess were Undesirables were embedded grotesquely into walls.

  A large ornate throne sat atop a raised stage at the far end of the room. Chandeliers made of Gnome skulls hung from the vaulted ceilings. The repulsive kicker was that a rug of what appeared to be the fur of dead Gnomes lay under the throne, trimmed in blood encrusted fangs. The cavernous room had no windows so escape by taking a running leap and busting through the glass was looking grim.

  As we waited for the arrival of the King, his army growled and hissed at us—gnashing fangs and all. For having no fear gene, I had to admit it was kind of terrifying.

  “Think he’s compensating for something?” Rick asked casually, nodding his head at a huge portrait to the right of the throne.

  It was all I could do not to shriek with laughter even though it felt like we were in one of the worst levels of Hell. I was so busy taking in the décor of bones I’d missed the life-sized painting of the evil ruler. The likeness was uncanny except for one teeny detail… in the junk area. King Stew’s package had been enhanced. No midget sweet pickle and tiny peas for him. Nope, his Long John Silver and hush puppies were freakin’ ginormous.

  While the anatomically incorrect depiction of the King’s twig and berries was amusing, the fact that we were surrounded by close to a hundred heavily armed Gnomes was not funny at all.

  “Gnomes no like Air Supply,” Neville whispered from the backpack.

  “Umm… nobody likes living without an air supply,” I muttered, glancing over at Rick in confusion.

  “Thanks, little alien dude, but that’s kind of a given,” Rick said quietly. “Can’t breathe? Can’t live. Period.”

  “Nooo, silly Waaawuf. Air Supply,” he insisted softly.

  Everything Neville had told us so far was the truth. There had to be something to what he was telling us now.

  “Can you be a little more specific?” I asked the passenger of the backpack quietly as I twisted my pink hair in my fingers and wondered if there was a trick to cutting off a Gnome’s air supply. It couldn’t be making the room smell bad. It smelled like fried butt already.

  “Air Supply,” Neville said again as the backpack shuddered on Rick’s back. “Air Supply—a soft rock duo consisting of English singer-songwriter and guitarist Graham Russell and lead vocalist Russell Hitchcock from Australia. Air Supply had many hits in the 1980s. They suck.”

  I was flabbergasted. I wasn’t sure if it was because the Gnomes hated Air Supply or that Neville had spoken a sentence that didn’t sound at all like a toddler.

  “I love Air Supply,” Rick said, completely insulted.

  “They suck,” Neville corrected him flatly.

  I had to agree with Neville on this one. Rick was my perfect Werewolf in every way except for his taste in music. Whatever. The boinking was so stellar I could overlook his horrible love of crappy pop songs.

  “They do not suck,” Rick huffed. “All Out of Love used to be my anthem before I met Madison. Air Supply got me through some hard times. I styled my hair in the eighties just like the lead singer.”

  “You had an afro?” I asked with wide eyes and snort.

  “I rocked it,” Rick informed me.

  “Sure you did,
” I muttered and then froze. The plan hatching in my head was bizarre, but it was worth a shot. “Do you remember any lyrics?”

  “Of course I do,” Rick said with an eye roll. “They’re like poetry. I could recite every lyric they ever wrote right now.”

  “Gnomes hate Air Supply,” Neville repeated.

  The widest smile I’d ever produced pulled at my lips. The only smile that could beat mine, at that moment was Rick’s.

  “You ready to sing, Werewolf?” I asked.

  “I’m tone deaf,” Rick replied, suddenly nervous. “It could be dangerous for the future of our sex life if you hear me sing.”

  “Umm… nothing could be dangerous for the future of our sex life,” I told him with a naughty grin. “The only thing that could end our sex life is if we don’t make it out of the palace alive.”

  “Roger that,” Rick said with a wink. “Prepare to be wowed by Air Supply.”

  “Here,” Neville whispered as his little hand emerged cautiously out of the backpack and handed me two sets of earplugs.

  “Dude, I’m not that bad of a singer,” Rick said.

  “Not for you, Waaawuf,” Neville whispered with a giggle. “For Tiny and Bart so they live.”

  “Why do the Gnomes hate Air Supply so much?” I asked, taking the earplugs and covertly handing them to Bart and Tiny.

  As they’d overheard the conversation, they quickly put them in.

  “Because they suck,” Neville said.

  “Air Supply does not suck,” Rick ground out through clenched teeth. “They’re awesome.”

  Suddenly the atmosphere in the large chamber changed dramatically. It grew darker, colder and stinkier. The noxious stench was almost debilitating. I hoped someday if Neville became the Gnome King he would suggest better hygiene.

  “And what have we here? Lunch?” King Stew roared in a bloodthirsty manner as he entered the chamber followed by ten emaciated Gnomes who crawled on all fours behind him.

  They were definitely from the Undesirable population, but I found them far more desirable than the jackass they served.

  The heinous King narrowed his beady eyes and licked his fleshy lips. “I don’t remember extending an invitation to humans.”

  My disgust for the Gnome King increased tenfold as he kicked one of the poor Undesirables and almost killed him just because he could. Not only was he evil, he was stupid. We were not human. Petunia was definitely not human. She’d been chained in his magic dungeon with the lesser gods for a freakin’ month, for cryin’ out loud.

  “State your business before you die a slow and painful death,” King Stew snarled, seating himself on his throne.

  “Well, I was lying alone with my head on the phone. I was thinking of you till it hurt,” Rick sang as a few of the guard Gnomes winced in agony and passed out.

  Rick did not underestimate his singing skills at all. He was beyond tone deaf, he was awful. I was very happy we’d boinked before I’d heard him sing.

  “WHAT?” the King hissed and slapped his hands over his ears.

  “I know you hurt too,” Rick said, giving the King a middle finger salute. “But what else can we do… tormented and torn apart.”

  “Tiny. Bart. When you can, move to the Gnomes at his feet and get them out of here. I don’t want them hurt.”

  “Not problem,” Neville whispered from the backpack. “How many?”

  “Ten,” I told him, hoping like heck he wasn’t going to toddle on over and hand them earplugs. That would not end well.

  “Look at them and me help, Mooomaid. Touch backpack,” Neville said as I heard him clap his chunky little hands inside the backpack.

  I obeyed the three-year-old without question. Touching the backpack, I concentrated on the beaten down group of Gnomes and didn’t take my eyes off of them. The looks of grateful shock when they realized their ears were plugged made me wonder exactly how powerful Neville was. What he’d done so far was insane.

  “Kill them,” the King roared in a fury to his army. “Skin the humans alive and bring me their heads. NOW!”

  “I wish I could carry your smile in my heart,” Rick sang in the key of Z at the top of his lungs as the army shrieked in terror and began to explode into steaming piles of thick green goop.

  “Keep going,” I shouted, pulling knives and aiming for the hairy sweet pickles. If the singing didn’t get them, a knife to the nards would at least slow them down and give us a chance to get Neville out of here.

  Petunia joined me and laughed like a Mermaid who’d ingested too much seaweed. “I haven’t had this much fun in centuries,” she squealed, lobbing machetes at the charging Gnome’s furry jewels.

  “You really need to get out more if you think this is fun,” I said with an eye roll. It was no surprise that my cousin used machetes instead of knives. She’d always been a bit over the top.

  “What would you say if I called on you now… said that I can’t hold on,” Rick continued while also throwing knives and dancing around to keep Neville safe.

  Tiny and Bart were basically glued to Rick’s back. Protecting their savior was serious business. Realizing they were still defenseless, I conjured up some explosives and handed them off to the boys while still hurling daggers with my teeth. I’d perfected that skill in show seven of Bitchin’ in the Kitchen. Rick had been wildly impressed. The boys gave me a thankful thumbs up and began lobbing bombs at what was left of the raging army.

  Everything was going great… until it wasn’t.

  How in the heck could I have forgotten about Kim and Bonar? It was very clear they’d received the text. However, the timing of their arrival couldn’t have been shittier. They poofed right into the chambers and were greeted with flying knives and exploding Gnomes. Thankfully, they landed next to us and not in the middle of the Gnomes who were trying to kill us. I knew Bonar would be fine—he was a freakin’ Sphinx. But without Kim knowing what she was, there was no way she could fight her way out of anything going on in here.

  “Oh my gods,” Kim screamed as she took in the war raging around us. “Does he have him?”

  “Yes,” I said. “He’s in the backpack.”

  The fact that neither of us had used names to clarify who we were talking about was a fatal fucking mistake that would give me nightmares the rest of my immortal life.

  “He dies,” Kim shouted as she took off like a bullet out of a gun and headed straight for the Gnome King. “He murdered Dirk. He will not murder our son.”

  “What the fuck?” Rick shouted over the screaming and in between the lyrics of the song. “What is she doing?”

  “Don’t ask,” I yelled back as I conjured up more knives and prepared to go after her. “Just keep singing.”

  “Nay,” Bonar snarled as smoke and fire flamed out of every orifice on his body. “I will rescue me love.”

  My wildly inappropriate mind went to the worst possible scenario at the worst possible time. I was curious if Bonar’s butthole shot fire too. Thankfully, I was able to overcome my nosy need for information that wasn’t in the least bit relevant at the moment. I’d simply ask him later if we made it out of here alive.

  “NO,” Neville shouted, popping his upper body out of the backpack and grabbing Bonar’s puffy shirt in a vise-like grip. “Me save me mommy. Is the way it supposed to be. Me daddy tell me so.”

  “Shit,” Rick growled. “He’s three. Not sure this is a good plan.”

  I agreed and then was stunned to silence in a big fat hairy way. Everyone was. Especially the King.

  Rick’s strong body was forced to the ground as Neville’s body burst from the backpack and grew in size to the point I thought his head might hit the twenty-foot ceilings. The army Gnomes who weren’t already gobs of goop on the ground, shrank back in terror and tried to run from the chamber.

  Neville didn’t like that and waved his hand. Every single living member of the Gnome army was now trapped in a cage and chained within an inch of their lives.

  “Shit,” Rick muttered
as he got to his feet and scanned the room. “We should have let our alien dude out of the bag sooner. Would have saved some time. The little shit is fucking good.”

  “Right?” I whispered, craning my neck back to take in all of little Neville who was no longer little.

  “You will do nothing,” King Stew screamed maniacally as he held Kim by her throat with one hand and a razor-sharp knife in the other. “If you take one step toward me, the whore who bore you will die, you abomination.”

  “Me no move, bad man,” Neville said with a shrug.

  Neville’s voice was deeper. He sounded like a thug toddler with a massive head cold. Neville stood around twenty feet high and was the largest freakin’ Gnome I’d ever seen. However, the amazing part was that he didn’t smell bad. He still smelled like a sweet little boy.

  “This is a bad idea,” Rick whispered. “I think we’re about to watch Kim bite it.”

  “Nay,” Bonar said tersely as he held himself back with effort. “Listen to the words the wee bairn uses.”

  Neville was not a wee bairn by any stretch of the imagination. But I supposed that to Bonar, Neville would always be a baby.

  “He said he wouldn’t move,” I hissed. “If he doesn’t move, Kim dies.”

  “Watch,” Bonar whispered. “Just watch.”

  Never have I been so happy to be wrong in my three hundred years…

  “Me think you should put me mommy down,” Neville said calmly.

  His deep voice made the room tremble. The King should have noticed this, but a narcissist assnard is only aware of himself.

  “Go back to your human form and come and kneel to your King. If you do, the whore will live,” King Stew sneered, knowing he’d won.

  “Me mommy not whore,” Neville corrected the King politely. “And if you push knife in, me will end you slow. If you drop mommy now, me will end you quick.”

  “YOU WILL NOT END ME,” the King screamed as his face went so red, I thought his brains might pop out. “I am the Gnome King. You are nothing but a worthless mutt—a half breed. Part human scum.”