“Ohhhhhh! I’m so sorry aboot that,” Sassy cried out as we heard some impressive hissing and swearing. “That wasn’t very Canadian of me.”
“Dem Canadians is pissed,” I said with a laugh and then choked on my own spit as Sassy and her three tutors walked out of the building and onto the street.
The Universe tilted on its axis, and I forgot how to breathe. Jango and Boba’s reactions were the same.
“No f-ing way,” Jango whispered.
“Are weese dreamin’?” Boba asked.
“I sure as hell hoped weese ain’t dreaming,” I choked out, unable to take my eyes off the beauties in front of us. “Should I punch youse in the head to make sure weese are awake?”
“Good idea,” Boba said.
Jango nodded his agreement. “Punch Boba.”
“Why me?” Boba demanded. “Why can’t Fat Bastard punch youse?”
Jango glared at Boba. “Well, youse is the one who said it was a good idea and my giblets are still screamin’ from the massive racking earlier.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Boba agreed then turned to me. “Hit me, bunghole.”
“Wait,” I said confused and a little uncomfortable. “Are youse speakin’ Pirate? Youse want me to hit your bunghole?”
Sassy nodded and called out, “Yes, that was Pirate. I’m fluent in Pirate from watching Pirates of the Caribbean two hundred times. Boba clearly wants you to punch his bunghole. Kind of kinky and gross, but that’s exactly what he said.”
Boba threw his hands in the air. “Whoa, if I was speakin’ Pirate, I didn’t know. I take dat shit back.”
“Happens to me all the time,” Sassy chimed in. “I have been known to speak up to ten languages in one sentence. Half the time I can’t even understand what I say.”
That gave everyone pause. Me and the boys stared at Sassy like she was nuts—which she was—and the three Canadian beauties stared at her like she’d grown another head—which she had not.
Par for the course with Sassy.
“While I’m all for bein’ punched,” Boba said. “I’d prefer to keep my bunghole out of it.”
“Roger dat,” I said, winding up and walloping my compadre in the gut.
Unable to control himself, Boba clouted me back. Jango immediately forgot about his injured doodle-knockers and jumped into the foray. Boba cold-cocked Jango while Jango whaled on me. Of course, I whacked the shit out of Boba at the same time. It was a symphony of knuckle sandwiches, and no one came near anyone’s bunghole.
“Umm… are you asshats done?” Sassy called out. “Kind of un-Canadian to beat the shit out of each other.”
With one last slug to both of my boys, I nodded at Sassy. “Weese are done.”
We were also bleeding and limping. Whatever. We were manly cats with a penchant for smackdowns. It was one of our better qualities.
The bored and disinterested yawns of the Canadians proved they were impressed.
“The dames are real,” I whispered. What was a feline fella to do when he laid eyes on three of the most beautiful and felonious cats in the Universe? “It’s time to show dem weese mean business.”
We’d been chasing these furry broads our entire lives. They were slipperier than eels. How they’d ended up in Canada was a mystery, and one I would love to unravel. Life was about to get very interesting.
My heart pounded like a jackhammer in my chest, and my tail twitched spastically. Boba squealed like a girl. Jango adjusted his junk.
Not to be outdone by Jango, I quickly went for my own junk. It was an inspired move, and I wished I’d thought of it first. Gangoolie grabbing was a sign that a male cat was taken with a female cat. Taken was an understatement. I stumbled as I went for the gold and grabbed Boba Fett for balance. He was worse off than I was, and we both went down in a heap. Jango tripped over us as he ogled the Canadian beauties and racked himself. It wasn’t sexy. It wasn’t cool.
It was not our finest moment.
“Mmmkay,” Sassy said, eyeing us and trying not to laugh. “These are my Canadian tutors, Poutine, Annie Surely, and Blythe. Aren’t they just aboot the most awesome gals you’ve ever seen?”
I was speechless.
Boba Fett was speechless.
Jango Fett was trying to breathe through his second rack of the day.
The cats had our tongues.
Again, not our finest moment, but we were face to face with all of our dreams come true. Poutine—all curvy, white, fluffy and rude. Annie Surely—black and white fur, curly whiskers and a shitty attitude. And Blythe—gray tiger-stripe with an eye roll that deserved an award and an outlook on life that sucked. They were f-in’ gorgeous.
“Poutine,” I said, puffing out my chest and sucking in my gut as I untangled myself from my boys. “Youse is lookin’ as hot as ever.”
“Bite me,” she hissed, sending joy through my furry frame.
“Annie Surely,” Boba said, eyeing her warily. “Youse is still a babe.”
“I’ll cut your tongue out of your head,” she snarled.
Boba grinned and gave me a thumbs up.
Sadly, due to his nards being injured, Jango sounded like a girl. However, that didn’t stop my brave brother. “Blythe, humpin’ youse is my fondest dream.”
Damn, he was good. Why didn’t I think of that?
“Get in line,” Blythe snapped and gave him the middle finger.
Nothing had changed. It was just as romantic as it had always been.
“You know my Canadian tutors?” Sassy asked, surprised.
“Weese are acquainted,” I said, winking at Poutine, who made the international I’ll slit your throat sign. Poutine was everything I wanted in a dame, and this time she wouldn’t get away.
“Old news,” Poutine purred.
“This is awesome,” Sassy shouted, missing all of the death threat foreplay going on. “I’ll host a dinner tonight. We can have a picnic under Sturgill and his missing bits. I’ll just pop home for aboot an hour and have Jeeves make us some food, eh?”
“Youse do dat, Sassy,” I said, wondering if the furry gals were packing enchanted weapons.
They wouldn’t dare use them since any magic shot at us, went back onto the attacker—times ten. We might be girthy, but we were deadly and seriously good looking.
Sassy hopped on her broom and flew right into the sign we’d just put up. It hit the ground with a loud crash, and we all dodged the debris.
“Sorry,” she yelled. “We can make another sign tonight!”
We watched in appalled silence as the witch flew down Main Street upside down squealing with glee. When Sassy was out of sight, I glanced over at Poutine who gave me the finger. All was right with my world.
And then, in a move so brilliant it brought a tear to my eye, Boba dropped to the ground and raised his back leg high. Jango and I immediately followed his lead. Ball sac maintenance was a sure-fire strategy to let the gals know of our undying love for them. I went to town on my giblets like my life depended on it.
True love was true love.
We loved the violent cat burglars—had for decades. Maybe we hadn’t been clear in the past, but the vigorous ball bath ritual we were performing would clinch the deal. Win-win.
Or we’d just have spotless nuts.
Chapter Five
Doing the f-ing splits, having a smackdown with my boys then licking my giblets to impress a gal was rough on a guy. The sheer amount of stretching involved had been excruciating. Thankfully, the plan seemed to be working. Poutine, Annie Surely and Blythe were no longer staring daggers at us. They appeared bored and uninterested. It was a dead giveaway that the dames were dazzled.
“Enough,” Poutine ordered in a tone that made my kitty Johnson jolly. “Your message has been received, and we are open to negotiation.”
Annie Surely and Blythe nodded as they sharpened their nails.
Jango and Boba sucked in their guts and flanked me on either side. I was truly shocked that Jango had been able to reach his nugs,
but when love was on the line, a man would do dangerous and painful things.
“Didn’t know youse gals was Canadian,” I said, making a little polite conversation before we got down to business.
All three of the dames rolled their eyes in unison. It was hot. I was tempted to keep making small talk to get them more pissed off, but decided it might backfire like everything else we’d done lately.
“That’s part of the issue,” Poutine hissed, pointing one heck of a sharp claw my way. “None of you ever paid attention… to anything.”
Boba raised his hand and waited to be called on. Annie Surely snarled at him. He grinned and took it as a yes. “In my defense, I was so enamored with your hairy bubble-butt it was hard to think about anything else.”
That earned a giggle from Annie Surely.
Boba took a bow and gave everyone a thumbs up.
Shit. I needed better lines.
“And in my defense,” Jango said, eyeing Blythe like she was a fat juicy mouse. “Youse got the curves dat gives me the swerves. My brain goes insane when youse shakes dat snooty booty. Dat’s why I might have missed dat youse are Canadian… umm… eh?”
Damnit. The son of a bitch had picked up some Canadian from Sassy. Talk about good…
Blythe purred with delight and gave Jango the middle finger salute. He pumped his paws over his head in victory.
All eyes were on me. I felt the flop sweat coming on fast. Unfortunately, my bullshit-o-meter started moving instead of my Casanova-o-meter. Something wasn’t right with this picture. As much as I wanted to ignore it—and I really wanted to ignore it—I couldn’t. We were the fat felonious familiars of the glorious and profane Shifter Wanker. Zelda was the protector of this town and we were an extension of our insane witch. The life we lived now was a gift from the Goddess herself, and I wasn’t about to take the Goddess for granted even if Poutine was the most bootylicious cat in the Universe.
“Before I wax poetic about your furry teats,” I said, narrowing my eyes at Poutine. “While I didn’t pay attention to where youse dames lived, I did pay attention to what youse did for a livin’. Youse are cat burglars, not Canadian tutors. Are youse down here to fleece Sassy? Cause if youse are, weese are gonna have a little problem. Like I’m gonna have to kick your fine ass problem.”
Poutine's brows shot up in surprise. She laughed. “You’ve found a conscience, Fat Bastard?”
My name on her lips was heavenly, but if she was here to pilfer shit from my idiot friend, we had a complication.
“Occasionally,” I said, playing it cool and hoping I wasn’t drooling. “What’s it gonna be, Poutine? Are youse really a Canadian tutor or is youse here for nefarious reasons?”
Poutine walked toward me—furry hips swaying from side to side. Her eyes were narrowed to slits.
I lost a few brain cells. The broad was hotter than a firecracker lit at both ends.
“So, if I’m here on a job, you want nothing to do with me?” she purred, inches from my face.
“Depends on what the job is,” I shot back, trying to remember my name.
Her grin grew wide as she circled me like I was a car for sale. I loved every second of it and prayed to the Goddess that the broad wasn’t here to mess with my people. Sucking in my gut, I made a mental note to use the damn treadmill. With my brain in my ball sac at the moment, it was difficult to remember to puff out my chest and suck in my belly.
“We’re legit Canadian tutors. It’s a difficult language to master. However, we are also here on a job,” she said with a quick and delightful slap to my fat ass.
As enjoyable as her love tap was, her answer wasn’t delightful at all. Jango and Boba weren’t pleased either. The hair on my neck stood straight up and my boys hissed with displeasure.
“Dis is my territory,” I snapped, heartbroken but refusing to show it. “Youse will perform no job in Assjacket.”
“Is that the actual name of the town?” Annie Surely inquired, looking bored.
“No,” I said. “It ain’t. And weese ain’t tellin’ youse what the real name is.”
I had no fucking clue what the real name of the town was. Ever since Zelda named it Assjacket, it had stuck like glue.
“If youse are here for a job, youse don’t deserve to know the name of the town,” Jango huffed, no longer trying to minimize his spare tire. My compadre was letting it all hang out. His fucking stomach touched the ground. It was disgustingly impressive. “Dis town is special. Weese haven’t been run out of here, and weese have a witch. She’s fuckin’ crazy, but she’s ours. Youse hot asses will not mess up the only good home weese ever had. I don’t care how blue my gangoolies get. They might even fall off and dat will be your fault.”
My man Jango was pissed… and fat.
“Dat’s right,” Boba grunted. “And anyways, weese don’t even know the real name of the town. So there.”
“Not helping,” I said to Boba.
“My bad,” he replied. “I can see how dat don’t actually support the argument.”
“No worries,” I told him. “Just clap your trap shut for a bit.”
“Roger dat,” Boba replied.
It was a standoff. A tragic standoff. While I was aware that we’d have to explain to Sassy why we’d dropped kicked her Canadian experts out of town, I was willing to do it for the sake of Assjacket. Sassy was known for blowing up buildings when she was put out, but since she’d mated with Jeeves, the nicest Shifter in the Universe, she’d gotten the habit under control. Or I hoped she had.
And even though my heart was shattering, I had to cat-up and defend my territory. This day was sucking all kinds of ass.
“Interesting,” Poutine said, looking wildly unconcerned about what was going down.
The dame was hot.
“Spit it out,” I said, holding my ground even though I was tempted to cleanse my dong pillow again to turn her on. “Name the job youse is here to do.”
“Can’t,” she said.
“Won’t,” I shot back.
“Actually,” Blythe said, yawning. “For the first time in a while, Poutine isn’t lying. We have no clue why we’re here. The Goddess sent us. Only thing she said was that the key to history was in the name, and then she asked us why women rub their eyes in the morning. She also mentioned that toilet paper was very expensive.”
“Why do dames rub their eyes in the morning?” I asked, wondering if the Goddess was losing her marbles. Those were some shitty directions. Although, I did agree about the toilet paper.
Blythe shrugged. “No clue. However, the silver lining is that we actually are Canadian tutors and someone needed our services and…” She stopped speaking when Poutine shot her a shut the hell up glance.
“And?” I pressed, not sure I was buying what the gals were selling, even though I wanted to. “Youse will come clean or youse are out of here. Sassy can’t spell and she’s an idiot, but she’s our idiot. It youse think youse are gonna take advantage of her or any of the other dumbasses in dis town, youse have another thing comin’.”
“Think,” Poutine corrected me with a smile. “It’s another think coming.”
“Youse sure?” I asked, wanting to keep the dame smiling for the rest of her life.
“Quite,” she purred.
“Expound on the and,” I ordered.
Poutine rolled her eyes and glanced back at her girls. They rolled their eyes and nodded.
“Fine,” she groused. “And… we wanted to see you three imbeciles.”
Again, my heart pounded in my chest. Again, my tail twitched spastically. Again, I was pulled back to earth by reality.
“The Goddess don’t send people on missions with shitty directions,” I pointed out.
“Apparently she does,” Poutine shot back. “And I’m pretty sure the Goddess wouldn’t have sent us to one of her favorite places in the Universe to rob it blind.”
“She said Assjacket was one of her favorite places?” I asked, surprised.
All three lady
cats nodded their gorgeous heads.
“Give us a moment here,” I said, grabbing my boys and yanking them over to Sturgill. Huddling together under the nard-less bear, I eyed them. “What do youse assholes think? My brain is in my crotch right now, so I’m not sure I’m makin’ good decisions.”
“What if weese ask the Goddess for a sign?” Jango suggested. “See if the gals are tellin’ the truth?”
“Not a bad plan,” Boba said, his brow wrinkled in deep thought. “But somethin’ tells me if weese don’t believe the broads without proof, they’ll hold it against us for eternity.”
I could live with a broken heart. I could not live if I brought harm to the town that had taken us in and loved us—illegal habits and all.
Love versus responsibility—decisions sucked.
“What if weese asked the Goddess real quiet like?” I suggested, thinking maybe we could get the confirmation we needed without depriving our Johnsons.
“How?” Jango asked, glancing over at the gals.
“Somethin’ like dis—real respectful-like,” I whispered. “Are youse there Goddess? It’s me, Fat Bastard. Weese got a little issue here with some hot dames dat are turnin’ our giggle bouncers blue. If youse sent the broads here for good give us a sign—youse know, somethin’ like dat.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Boba said, holding up his paws. “Dat’s not the way to word it. If weese think they’re tellin’ the truth—which weese do—den weese ask for a sign if they’re here for evil.”
“But Fat Bastard already asked the first way. Weese are screwed if they’re innocent,” Jango pointed out then screamed like a girl as a searing three-pronged bolt of purple lightning blasted from the sky and landed squarely on our asses.
“Mother fucker,” I screamed, rolling on the ground to put out the fire.
“Shit,” Jango squealed as he clapped his paws and conjured up a pool of ice water. Dropping into it, he doused his flaming butt.
“Son of a bunghole,” Boba shouted as he joined Jango in the icy water. “I think all the hair on my ass is gone.”
It was not a good scene. I was fairly sure my giblets were bald. There were several ways to look at it, though. The gals were on the up and up. I wasn’t sure I believed that they didn’t know their mission, but I was sure they weren’t here to mess with my town—my singed ass was proof. The good news was we could court the she-devils, run our legal business and get Sturgill’s nards back from the groundhogs.
The Bad Boys of Assjacket: Magic and Mayhem Universe: Magic and Mayhem Book 9 Page 4