“That she does,” Fabio agreed with a dazed smile, still stunned at the amount of money he’d just lost. “My son Zach does too. They’re my pride and joy.”
“Youse are a great dad,” I said, patting one of my favorite people on the back.
The warlock truly was a great dad. The moment he’d found out about Zelda, he’d searched high and low for his daughter. Having no luck, he went to her sorry excuse of a mother and the vile abomination cursed him with a spell. Fabio had been turned into a cat and had to earn Zelda’s love without revealing who he was. Of course, Zelda had accidentally mowed him down with her car three times and did a stint in the magical pokey for it. Luckily, cats have nine fucking lives, and Fabio hadn’t kicked the bucket after all. In the end, it turned out peachy. When Fabio was dying in his cat form, Zelda finally admitted her love for him. Before our eyes, he'd morphed right back into his human form… in his birthday suit. Zelda had been in therapy for a few years over that one. Seeing your dad’s Johnson wasn’t the most auspicious beginning, but they worked it out.
Then Zach was discovered. That story was a little more tragically complicated, but they were now a wonderfully happy and extremely dysfunctional family. And while Fabio had it bad for his kids, he was over the moon about his grandchildren.
Fabio winced. “Not exactly a great father,” he contradicted me. “However, I’m working on making it up to them.”
“Youse are doin’ a bang-up job,” Jango assured him. “Youse didn’t know about Zelda and Zach. Once youse did, youse stepped up and loved dem kids hard.”
Boba nodded and gave Fabio a thumbs up. “Dat’s right. Dem kids are lucky mother humpers. Me and my brothers in crime started our life starvin’ in a gutter after bein’ beat to shit and escapin’ the bag weese was shoved into. Dat’s why weese like havin’ a little extra meat on us now,” he explained, slapping his big belly with pride. “Just in case the food runs out, youse know? Used to be a little self-conscious about my sexy, flabby jiggle, but I just figure there’s more of me to love. Took us three f-in’ days to claw our way out of dat bag and swim out of the river weese was tossed into. Talk about suckin’ bunghole. Swimmin’ is for dogs, not for cats.”
The room went silent. Fabio glanced up at the ceiling, sad and pained. Annie Surely wiped a tear from her eye and Blythe stared at the floor. Only Poutine looked straight at us. Her expression was filled with pity. I didn’t like to be pitied. We’d turned out just fine—relatively speaking. Our past was the past and I liked leaving it there. Boba had done some therapy with Roger the fucking rabbit and was more open to exploring our shitty beginnings. Me? I was more of a block-it-out kind of guy.
“Dat’s a hilarious story,” I shouted, forcing a laugh while giving Boba an I’m about to remove your nards with a dull butterknife look. “Boba has one hell of an imagination.”
“Yeah,” Jango chimed in, not making eye contact with anyone. “Dat Boba is a laugh fuckin’ riot.”
Boba looked wildly confused, but went with the flow. “Right,” he quickly added. “Musta gotten a horror movie mixed up with real life. I’m such a dumb mug. My bad.”
No one believed a word of our pathetic cover-up. Normally we were smooth liars—had to be. We could goof with the best of them, but we were clearly off our game. A change of subject was in order. We’d gone from the joy of cheating to harsh reality. Not a good way to woo the she-devils.
“Fabio, my man,” I said, avoiding Poutine’s intense stare. “Do youse happen know a troll who goes by the name Fuckin’ Derrick?”
Fabio paled considerably and shuddered. “Derrick or Fucking Derrick?”
“Fuckin’ Derrick,” I confirmed.
“Are you positive?” Fabio asked, worried. “Absolutely positive?”
It was becoming increasingly clear that old Fucking Derrick was a f-ing nightmare. Whatever. We’d dealt with all kinds of asshats in our time. How bad could Fucking Derrick be?
“Yep, I’m sure.”
Fabio sighed, put his elbows on the custom card table we’d stolen and rested his chin in his hands. “Unfortunately, yes. I know him. Why?”
The dame’s ears perked up and our sad past was forgotten for now. Annie Surely clapped her toe beans together and produced her little notebook, pen and readers.
With her pen poised over the paper, she began to grill Fabio. “Is he still alive?”
“Yes,” Fabio replied tightly.
“Is he in Assjacket?” Blythe asked.
“Again, unfortunately, yes,” he said, looking a bit confused. “Why? If you’re thinking about finding him, I’d recommend against it. Fucking Derrick is an asshole.”
“Weese heard dat,” I said, realizing Fabio didn’t know what was going on. “Weese have a little story to tell youse.”
Fabio sat up straight and took in the worried expressions on all of our mugs. “Does this story have a happy ending?”
Lying wasn’t an option right now, even though it would be a hell of a lot easier. “Remains to be seen,” I admitted.
Glancing over at the baby monitor to confirm his grandbabies were still sleeping soundly, he nodded. “And your story will explain why you have the death wish of locating Fucking Derrick?”
“Yep,” I said.
Fabio shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “I’m all ears. Tell me this story.”
Chapter Ten
The atmosphere in the room had done a three-sixty. There was enough magic to choke a fella. Poutine, Annie Surely and Blythe were awed by the new arrival and had bowed low when she’d poofed in with so much lime green glitter we would be vacuuming it up for a f-ing year.
We’d told the entire story twice. Once to Fabio and then again to Baba Yaga. As soon as we’d finished sharing the shitshow with Fabio, he’d insisted that Baba Yaga be brought in on it.
“That just won’t do—won’t do at all,” Baba Yaga, aka Carol, snapped, pacing the Kick-ass Cat Pad and magically enhancing the décor in her stress. “Humans can’t know about Assjacket. All the magic in the Universe hinges on our secrecy.”
“Weese are gonna solve it,” I promised. I was pretty sure the crazy dame didn’t hear me—just kept pacing the room and yacking to herself.
“I do love the shag carpet,” she muttered as she stared at it. “But the green has got to go.”
With a wave of her hand the grassy green carpet we’d begged for turned into glittering rainbow strands. It was fucking heinous, but I wasn’t in the mood to be electrocuted by pointing it out.
While I didn’t mind new shit in the Cat Pad, the massive disco ball now hanging from the ceiling was a little much. However, I kept my trap shut when I noticed how much Poutine and the gals seemed to like it. And I did have to admit, I was digging on the pyramid of lava lamps and bean bag chairs.
Baba Yaga’s warning about the magic made me a little itchy, though.
“Carol,” Fabio said, grabbing her hand and pulling her onto his lap. “Calm down. Zelda and Mac are searching for Fucking Derrick. They’ll find him and get to the bottom of it. I’m sure of that.”
Baba Yaga shook her head and scooped up a surprised Poutine. Absently stroking my dame, she worried her bottom lip. “Bad idea to let Zelda near Fucking Derrick. He’ll try to kill her, and she’ll blast his rude tiny ass into the Next Adventure. If we’re dealing with a dead Fucking Derrick, we’ll never find out if the little shit can help. It’s just a terrible plan.”
“Whoa there, Baba Yobadnews. Fuckin’ Derrick is gonna try to off Zelda?” I asked as the hair on the back of my neck shot up and my boys began to growl and hiss.
Baba Yaga shrugged her slim shoulders and shook her head. Not a single hair moved. It was sprayed into an eighties hair-do that defied gravity. Not to mention, her purple spandex pants and off-the-shoulder ripped sweatshirt were all kinds of wrong. Amazingly, the hot babe made it work.
“Fucking Derrick tries to kill everyone,” Baba Yaga said in an ominous tone.
I didn’t like that one bit
. “Dat’s not workin’ for me.”
“Me neither,” Jango Fett hissed.
“Dat’s not gonna happen,” Boba Fett joined in. “Zelda is our witch. I’ll eighty-six any mother f-er who tries to hurt our insane nutjob.”
“Good boys.” Baba Yaga gave us a curt nod then turned her attention to the cat in her lap. “You do realize you’ve arrived a bit early,” Baba Yaga told Poutine. “I’m not due to retire for a least another few decades.”
“What?” Poutine asked, confused.
“No worries,” Baba said, patting her head and nodding to Annie Surely and Blythe. “We can get started with your training sooner rather than later.”
“Training?” Blythe asked as perplexed as Poutine.
“But of course,” Baba Yaga said.
Annie Surely tilted her head and gaped at the crazy witch. “I’m sorry, you must be mistaking us for different Canadian cats.”
Baba Yaga stamped her foot and set the shag carpet on fire. “I am never mistaken.”
Fabio wiggled his fingers and doused the flames with an indulgent smile for his certifiable lover. Baba Yaga made Zelda look easy.
Pointing a highly manicured nail at each of the dames, she cocked her finger and drew them in. “When I retire as Baba Yaga and Zelda takes over, I’ll be more of a pedestrian witch, so to speak.”
Everyone was still confused. Baba was good like that. It was far different from Sassy’s gift of leaving everyone speechless. Baba Yaga knew exactly what she was doing at all times.
“Is there more to that story?” Poutine inquired carefully.
“Isn’t there always?” Baba Yaga shot back with a mischievous grin. “When I retire my bobble-headed warlock minions will retire as well—thank the Goddess. Those nosey little men drive me nuts. I’m constantly tripping over them—very inconvenient.”
Baba paused and enjoyed the mass bewilderment she was creating.
“I see,” Annie Surely lied, covertly glancing over at her gals.
“Do you?” Baba inquired.
Poutine rolled her eyes. “No. We don’t. Get to the point, lady.”
You could hear a pin drop. The silence was deafening, and the terror was real. No one talked to the supreme leader of the witches like that and lived to tell.
Diving like the Devil was on my ass trying to steal my Johnson pillow, I landed on top of Poutine to save her from the wrath of Carol. I’d had a good life, and I was fairly positive I had at least one left. If I didn’t, it would be worth it to die for the dame I loved. No question about it.
Baba Yaga’s delighted laugh rang out. The broad was nuts.
“Perfect,” she trilled. “Fat Bastard, that was so sweet.”
“Dat was sweet?” I asked, a little worried I’d crushed the love of my life.
“Yes!” Baba Yaga shoved me off of her lap and made sure Poutine was still breathing. I was a big beefy guy. “You put your own life on the line to save one of my familiars.”
“Your familiars?” Poutine asked, squinting at the witch.
“That’s right,” Baba confirmed. “And as I said, you’re a bit early, but since there’s love in the air, I understand why.”
As terrified as I was at the prospect of my dame being a familiar to Carol, I was also elated. Carol and Fabio lived in Assjacket. Me and the boys lived in Assjacket. The dames would have to live in Assjacket as Carol’s familiars. That meant we had longer than a few days to woo our ladies.
“Soooooo,” Poutine said with a rude yawn. “That means we’re moving to Assjacket?”
Annie Surely and Blythe yawned as well. Blythe even added an eye roll. The broads were totally into it. It was all I could do not to take a victory lap around the room.
Baba Yaga never missed anything. She watched the silent show play out with a little smirk on her lips. “I suppose it does.”
“Whatever,” Poutine said, trying to sound disinterested. “We can make that work.”
“Excellent,” Baba Yaga said. “First mission. Find Fucking Derrick before Zelda and Mac do. Zelda has a terrible temper, and as much as I’d love to hear that the little shit was six feet under, I’ll save that wish for another time. The future of magicals is on the line.”
“We’ll stay here and watch over Henry and Audrey,” Fabio said.
“Roger dat,” I said, saluting them both. “Do youse have any clue where Fuckin’ Derrick’s hideout is?”
“Check the bridges on the outskirts of town,” Fabio instructed. “Fucking Derrick likes to hide under them. But be very careful.”
Baba Yaga clapped her hands and a mist of funky smelling rainbow glitter rained down on us. “That should help.”
Sneezing, I waved my paw to clear the stench. “What was dat?”
“Troll perfume,” she replied. “A little stinky, but it might help lure him out. Oh, shoot. Does anyone happen to speak troll?”
“Fuckin’ Derrick doesn’t speak English?” I asked, wondering how in the hell we were going to communicate with him.
Baba Yaga raised a brow. “Of course, he does, but he’s a shit and will mess with you.”
Annie Surely raised her hand. “I speak troll.”
“Me too,” Blythe said.
“Me three,” Poutine added.
The dames were coming through again. It was hot.
“Wonderful,” Baba Yaga said. “He’ll probably speak troll until you get him pissed off. When a troll gets angry enough, he will forget his native tongue.”
“Not. A. Problem,” I said with a grin as Boba and Jango chuckled. “Weese just happen to excel at pissin’ people off.”
“That you do,” Baba Yaga said with an eye roll. “Get moving. There’s no time to waste. The fate of our kind is on the line.”
The shoes were big. There was a chance we couldn’t fill them.
However, cats didn’t wear shoes.
We were going to kick ass.
Chapter Eleven
Fucking Derrick wasn’t an asshole. He was a colossal, gaping crevasse of an asshole, the likes of which I’d never come across—and I’d met some true f-in’ assholes in my life. The troll’s reputation had not been exaggerated.
“Duleakum iniuakum iniir glogzag gulouse, dussholuth,” Fucking Derrick bellowed.
He was about a foot tall and his voice was so high I was pretty sure he didn’t have nards. A bushy, wiry, gray beard covered most of his little face exposing only his crazed purple eyes. He reminded me of a compact Bigfoot with a serious attitude problem. The troll’s hands and feet were small like the rest of him, but it was clear the miniature son of a bitch was a killer.
Fucking Derrick’s bellow sounded more like a squeak, but the fact he stomped around like his clothes were on fire told the story of his fury.
“What the hell did he just say?” I asked, dodging the fireballs the jackoff was shooting out of his nose.
I avoided getting hit for the good of the troll and for the good of Assjacket. Any magic thrown at me or my boys went back on the aggressor times ten. Didn’t know if Fucking Derrick could survive that. Since I needed to shake the troll down for info, I very kindly let his fireballs hit the ground around me.
“He said, get out of my house, asshole,” Poutine replied, interpreting for the troll as she expertly evaded the arsenal coming our way.
We’d found him under the first bridge we searched. Finding the troll had turned out to be the easy part, drawing the little turd out into the open for a meaningful conversation was another thing altogether.
“Dat’s kinda rude,” Boba pointed out, eyeing the tiny maniac. “Youse should be a little nicer and maybe youse wouldn’t have to live under a bridge.”
The wee man looked like he was going to split in half he was so put out. “Shrakituth glogzag dussholuth.”
Annie Surely laughed. “He just told you to bite his asshole.”
Boba flipped the troll off. “While dat may be what youse dig, I’m not into bitin’ bungholes. Youse really need to work on your manners.�
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“Yeah,” Jango added. “Weese ain’t here to off youse unless youse keep actin’ like a douche. Weese just want some intel, youse ugly mother f-er. Youse feel me?”
Fucking Derrick lost his questionably sane mind. He spit fire and flung himself on the ground. The tantrum he threw would have made a homicidal toddler proud.
“Gorotu glogakuth glogzag dusakun gutcarg. Duleakum hakosakum,” he grunted, kicking his itty-bitty legs so fast they were almost invisible.
“Umm.” Blythe shook her head and tried not to grin. “He just said that you make his ass itch and to get lost.”
While we were probably in grave danger from the idiot troll, it was difficult not to laugh.
“Piss him off more so he speaks English,” Poutine advised as she and the gals scampered in circles to avoid the poisonous darts Fucking Derrick was now throwing.
“On it,” I said, dancing away from losing one of the lives I had left. “Hey, youse!”
Fucking Derrick glanced up from his tantrum and glared at me.
“Yeah, youse,” I said, pointing a sharp claw at him. “Where’d youse get dem gauchos? 1980 called and wants dem fugly pants back.”
“Nice,” Boba said as he back flipped out of the way of a double fireball.
We were in trouble here. Half of me was tempted to let the shit nail me with a fireball so it would eighty-six his psycho little ass, but as much fun as that would be, it would also be stupid. I was many things, but in battle, I wasn’t stupid.
“Keep goin’,” Jango said, rolling like a fat furry ball to steer clear of the flames.
“Hey Fuckin’ Derrick,” I yelled. “Youse are so ugly, I heard youse didn’t get hit with the ugly stick… I heard youse got walloped with the whole f-in’ tree.”
The troll roared. It sounded like a ten-year-old girl at a Justin Bieber concert. The insult worked. However, in hindsight, it was far more pleasant not to know what the jackoff was saying.
“There’s a tree stump in my ass that has a higher IQ than you,” he snapped in a voice that sounded like he’d swallowed a vat of helium. He also flipped me off.
The Bad Boys of Assjacket: Magic and Mayhem Universe: Magic and Mayhem Book 9 Page 7