“Dat’s gotta hurt—havin’ a tree lodged in your sphincter,” I shot right back. “And if I was as ugly as youse, I’d shave my ass and walk backwards.”
“Really?” the troll shrieked.
“Yep,” I replied, staying on my toes so I could move quickly. For a fat cat, I moved fast.
Fucking Derrick stood up with a nasty look on his mug and slapped his tiny hands on his gaucho covered hips. “Well, you’re so fat, even Dora can’t explore you.”
“Burn,” Boba said with a chuckle. “The mini bunghole biter has some zingers.”
I grinned.
Fucking Derrick grinned.
It wasn’t pretty, but it was a good sign that he’d stop trying to kill us. I kept going.
“Dat was smooth, Fuckin’ Derrick,” I complimented him. “But when youse entered the Ugly Contest, they said professionals weren’t allowed.”
The troll raised a bushy eyebrow. I wasn’t sure if it was a sign of appreciation or if he was going to double down on trying to bump me off.
“Yeah, well, you have more rolls than a bakery,” he grumbled.
“Dat may be true,” I said with a shrug. “But when youse went through the haunted house at Halloween, youse came out with a job application.”
“Maybe,” Fucking Derrick conceded, getting into it. “When you got on the scale, it said it needed your weight, not your phone number.”
The troll was good.
“At least I’m not so ugly dat I scare the shit out of the toilet,” I countered.
He paused and thought that one through. Dropping into a squat, I motioned everyone to get behind me. There was no telling what the troll would do.
“I might borrow that one,” he said. “Do you mind? It was outstanding.”
My mouth hung open for a brief moment. The rules had just turned on a dime. Now, I just had to turn the insult game into an intel game.
“Be my guest,” I told him. “Youse wanna keep goin’?”
“Absolutely,” Fucking Derrick said, rubbing his tiny hands together. “Are you ready to graduate to stupid?”
I nodded and gave the insane freak a thumbs up. I could do stupid any day of the week.
F-in’ Derrick let it rip. “You’re so stupid you brought a spoon to the Super Bowl.”
“Dat’s nothin’,” I told him. “Youse are so stupid, youse tried to schedule your yearly physical with Dr. Pepper.”
The troll grinned. His little teeth were as sharp as hell. “You’re so stupid, you took a ruler to bed to see how long you slept.”
“Stealin’ dat one,” I said. “Youse are a worthy opponent. However, youse are also so stupid dat youse stuck a phone up your ass and thought youse was makin’ a booty call.”
Fucking Derrick froze. His eyes filled and his beard-covered chin fell to his tiny chest.
WTF?
“I think youse made him cry,” Boba whispered.
I felt awful. He was such a tiny little dude. I mean, he was a fucking insane asshole, but I wasn’t trying to make him cry.
“I didn’t think dat one was dat bad,” I said to my boys. “Did youse?”
Jango shook his head. “I didn’t think dat was bad at all. Maybe Fuckin’ Derrick has never gotten any booty.”
I nodded. “Dat’s a possibility. He’s ugly as fuck. Now I feel really bad.”
Fucking Derrick had advanced to sobbing. It was pathetic. It was all fun and games until a phone gets lodged in the booty then everything falls apart.
“What am I supposed to do now?” I asked, unsure how to handle the bizarre situation.
“Apologize,” Poutine said.
“Seriously?” I asked, glancing over at my dame.
She shrugged. “Can’t hurt.”
Here went nothing. “Hey, umm… Fuckin’ Derrick, youse okay?”
The troll continued to cry. Shit.
“Well, youse know… I was just joshin’ youse, right? I mean, youse already said youse had a stump in your ass, so, naturally I thought havin’ a phone up your ass wouldn’t be a biggie. Maybe a phone and a stump in your ass is just too much to have in your ass. I didn’t think about it like dat. If I had, I would have gone with the line, youse are so stupid, youse climbed a glass wall to see what was on the other side.”
“That woulda been better,” Fucking Derrick said through his tears. “Less invasive.”
“Got it,” I told him. “I’ll be more careful with how much an ass can hold in the future. Dis was a good lesson for me. Sorry about dat.”
“You are?” he asked. “Truly sorry?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Youse are an asshole and youse tried to kill us and all, but youse don’t deserve to cry. I feel real bad about dat.”
“Apology accepted,” the troll said, still sniffling.
Poutine grabbed my paw and gave it a squeeze. I felt on top of the world. My dame was proud of me. I was kind of proud too. I was on a nice guy roll.
“Hey now,” I said. “Chin up, tiny dude. Youse need to grow some giggle nuggets and get some thicker skin. Youse are a badass who lives under a bridge.”
Fucking Derrick gave us a small smile. “You’re right. I don’t see people all that often and I forget how to be socially acceptable.”
“Join the club,” Jango said. “Weese are completely socially unacceptable.”
Boba raised his hand.
“Speak,” I told him.
“Fuckin’ Derrick,” he said. “Could I make a suggestion?”
“Please do,” Fucking Derrick replied.
“If youse wanna be socially acceptable, youse should probably stop tryin’ to eighty-six everyone youse come across. Just a thought.”
The troll nodded thoughtfully and took in what Boba had suggested. Had it not occurred to the asshole that offing people might make him unpopular?
“Thank you,” Fucking Derrick said. “I haven’t had so much fun in a century.”
If this was his idea of fun…
“Youse are most welcome,” I said, putting out my paw in a gesture of peace, hoping he didn’t bite it off with his sharp little chompers. “I’m Fat Bastard. Dis here is Boba Fett and Jango Fett. The gorgeous dames are Poutine, Annie Surely and Blythe.”
The troll shook my paw and left it in one piece.
“I’m Fucking Derrick,” he replied. “And I’d very much like to apply to be part of your group.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that one. Hanging with Fucking Derrick seemed like a really bad idea.
“You don’t have to apply,” Poutine said, stepping forward and patting the troll on the head. “All you have to do to be in our club is help us figure out why the magic has gone awry in Assjacket. That will make you a friend for life.”
“Fuck,” Jango muttered under his breath. “Dat might have gone a little too far.”
I couldn’t agree more, but the look of pure excitement and joy on the little asshole’s face gave me pause. He was a lonely tiny asshole, which made him more of an asshole than if he had some friends. Fucking Derrick would probably always be an asshole, but maybe he would end his killing spree if he had some wise-guy comrades to kick his miniature ass into line.
“What do you need to know?” he asked, all of a sudden looking shy and childlike.
He was still hairy and ugly, but it was kind of sweet.
I glanced at my posse and everyone nodded and smiled. “Weese need youse to tell us about the Assjacket historian named Goober, who wiped his bunghole with the magic journals and got run out of town. Weese think it might be connected to the fact dat humans have started to stop and stay in Assjacket.”
F-in’ Derrick looked wildly alarmed. “Humans in Assjacket?”
“Yep. It’s bad,” I said.
The troll had a meltdown and tossed out cuss words I didn’t even know existed. It lasted for the better part of twenty minutes. About ten minutes into it, we all sat down and enjoyed the show. Annie Surely took notes.
“Youse done?” I asked when he flopped
down to the ground after a particularly heinous round of filthy words.
“I am,” Fucking Derrick said, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I feel so much better.”
We were going to have to remember not to take F-in’ Derrick out in public until he got a handle on his mouth. He was fucking disgusting.
“I take it dat youse might have some info for us?” I asked, praying to the Goddess it didn’t set the little freak off again.
He nodded and took a deep breath. “I do. You cats smell great, by the way.”
Score for Baba Yaga. The stinky troll perfume was a hit.
“Thank you,” Poutine said. “You have a gamey aroma as well.”
Fucking Derrick giggled. “Thank you, and yes, I have intel. Goober is an asshole, and I should know, because I’m an asshole,” he said.
I couldn’t disagree with that.
The troll went on. “He comes back every decade or so to try to destroy Assjacket for banishing him. The King of the Shifters has always been successful at running him off.”
“Dat’s Mac youse are talkin’ about,” I told Fucking Derrick. “Youse think Goober is here now? Youse think he’s causin’ the humans to show up?”
“It’s a possibility,” Fucking Derrick said. “There’s a chance that the groundhog didn’t use all the history journals on his ass and knows how to harm the magicals in Assjacket.”
“Back the fuck up,” I shouted as my stomach dropped to my toe beans. “Did youse just say Goober was a groundhog?”
“I did,” the troll confirmed. “If there was anyone who would be aware of the talisman that keeps Assjacket hidden from human eyes, it would be the ass wiping groundhog.”
The information floored me.
“Is it possible that one of the groundhogs who buried the three of you fifty feet underground for getting them drunk and shaving their fur then dying them so they looked like diseased skunks is Goober?” Poutine asked.
“How did youse know about dat?” I asked, embarrassed that my dame knew we’d been buried alive. It wasn’t very manly.
“Word gets around,” she said with an eye roll. “Just answer the question.”
I nodded. “Very possible. I say weese pay a visit to the Assjacket pokey and interrogate a few groundhogs. Weese might be able to solve the problem with a few well-placed testicle punches.”
“Can I come?” Fucking Derrick asked. “I’d probably recognize Goober. He’s cross-eyed. And I’m very good at nard punching since I’m so short.”
This was a conundrum. It was incredibly risky to take the shit-mouthed troll anywhere, but he had come through for us… and even though I was sure I would live to regret it, we were going to come through for Fucking Derrick.
“Can youse control dat potty mouth and not eighty-six anyone if weese run into our friends?” I asked.
“Oh yes!” he said, dancing a little jig. “I will happily refrain from killing your friends. Also, could you define potty mouth?”
Shit. Whatever. As long as he didn’t bump anyone off, we should be fine.
“No time,” I told him. “Hop on my back, little buddy. We’re poofin’ into town.”
Fucking Derrick squealed like a girl and jumped on my back. He was as light as a feather.
When I made mistakes, I made big ones.
I just hoped this wasn’t one of the largest.
Chapter Twelve
“I can pick that lock in five seconds,” Poutine announced, extending her claws and looking around to see if we were being watched.
My dame’s cat burgling skills were hot.
It was the middle of the night. Thankfully no one was up and there were no humans wandering around.
“I’ll time you,” Blythe said, conjuring up a stopwatch.
The brand new Assjacket pokey was at the far end of Main Street. It was as non-descript and rundown as the exterior of every other building in town. However, the inside was a magical fortress. Zelda and Sassy had warded the building and the bars on the cells to ensure that no one could escape. Hopefully, this was going to be a piece of cake. And while I was busting groundhog chops, I was going to get Sturgill’s sac back. The bear was still nardless. That fact drove me nuts. A man’s giblets were sacred—even if he was a bear made of stone.
“Three seconds,” Blythe said as the lock popped and Poutine opened the door. “New record.”
“Are there alarms on the building?” Annie Surely asked, wielding a set of wire cutters.
“Nope,” Boba said, waddling through the door. “Don’t need no alarms. Zelda and Sassy warded the joint.”
Fucking Derrick was beside himself with glee, hopping around like he had to take a leak.
“Youse good?” I asked him as I followed my posse into the pokey.
“Oh yes!” he said. “I’m just so excited to have a playdate.”
I shook my head and laughed. Fucking Derrick was a piece of work.
“Fat Bastard,” Jango Fett called out. “Weese have a little situation here.”
I didn’t like the sound of that and neither did Fucking Derrick. Blowing fire out of his nose, the little troll zipped ahead of me. I was right on his heels.
The sight I saw was not good. Not f-ing good at all.
Poutine’s tail twitched in distress. Annie Surely scribbled notes while hissing and snarling. Blythe stared in disbelief. Boba and Jango paced and muttered. I said a few choice words, including some I’d just learned from the troll. Only Fucking Derrick was calm, cool and collected.
“They dug their way out,” Poutine said, pointing at the hole in the middle of the cell floor.
“Zelda must have missed warding the floors,” Jango pointed out.
I shook my head and contemplated our next move. “Sassy did the floors,” I said. “And don’t nobody say nothin’ to her about this. She’ll be so upset, dat the broad will blow up the whole town. Youse feel me?”
Everyone nodded and mentally plotted and planned.
“Wadda weese gonna do now?” Boba asked. “Dem groundhogs could be anywhere.”
Glancing around, I closed my eyes and tried to think. There was no way I could fit my fat ass in that hole and go after the thieving groundhogs. The future of all magic was on the line and my butt was too big to do anything about it.
“May I make a suggestion?” Fucking Derrick inquired.
“Does it involve youse losin’ your shit?” I asked. “Cause weese don’t have time for dat.”
The troll giggled. “Oh no, my last tantrum should hold me for at least another hour.”
“Oh my Goddess,” Poutine said under her breath, swallowing back a laugh.
“Go ahead, tiny dude,” I said. “Tell us what youse got.”
“I, Fucking Derrick, will go hole diving and find Goober, the cross-eyed asshole,” the troll announced, squeezing his little body between the bars of the cell and getting electrocuted.
Everyone cringed and gasped as the idiot fried himself. The sound was freaking awful, but the troll just shrugged it off and gave us the okay sign.
“Dat had to hurt,” Jango said with a shudder. “Youse are insane. My kind of guy.”
It was a little weird to hear the troll speak about himself in third person, but I was going with it. The foul-mouthed freak was a brave amigo. Half of his beard got singed right off his ugly mug when he squished himself into the cell. It smelled almost as bad as Boba’s earlier anal explosion.
“Holy shit!” I said, holding my nose. “Are youse okay, little man?”
“I’m fine,” Fucking Derrick yelled, pumping his tiny fists over his head in victory. “I think I might have lost some facial hair. Do I look okay?”
“Is dat a trick question?” I asked, not sure which way to go here.
“You look like a lovely, brave troll,” Poutine quickly said, so I didn’t offer up that he was as fugly as he’d always been.
“Thank you,” Fucking Derrick said, blushing. “I love having friends. It’s so nice knowing people I don’t want to
kill.”
I nodded. “I can see how dat would appeal.”
Waving my paw, I conjured up a magical GPS and two transmitters. If Fucking Derrick was going in the hole, we were gonna have his back above ground.
“Wait,” Boba said, pulling on his whiskers. “What if dem groundhogs are still in the hole and they hurt Fuckin’ Derrick. I don’t like dat.”
“Me neither,” Jango said. “I’m still a little on the fence about F-in’ Derrick in general, but I don’t want no groundhog to mess with our boy.”
The troll cried out with delight and put his tiny hands over his heart. His wide smile almost made him look cute. Almost.
“I am moved more than you will ever know that you fabulous cats care about my wellbeing. This has never occurred in all my years,” he said as tears formed in his crazy purple eyes. “But worry not, my fat friends. If I come across the groundhogs, I shall eat them.”
“Da fuck?” Boba asked, squinting in shock at Fucking Derrick.
“Youse can do dat?” I asked with a gag. “Youse can eat six groundhogs?”
“Oh yes!” Fucking Derrick said, waving his hands like it was no big deal. “Not my usual style at all, but in an emergency like this, I can eat at least ten.”
There was a full minute of appalled silence as we digested the unappetizing method.
“Umm… we can always hope that they’re not in the hole,” Poutine pointed out with a wince.
“From your mouth to the Goddess’s ears,” I said, sliding a transmitter under the bars for the troll. “Put dat on youse. We’ll be able to track your movement and follow youse. Maybe swallow it. Dat way, it can’t fall out of the pocket of your gauchos.”
Fucking Derrick sucked in a breath through his teeth and shook his little head. “I can’t swallow that. I have a gag reflex.”
“Are youse shittin’ me?” I asked. “Youse just said youse can eat ten groundhogs, but youse can’t swallow a tiny transmitter?”
“I know,” he said, shrugging. “Crazy, right?”
“Can you suck it up your nose?” Poutine asked.
“Oh no, no, no,” Fucking Derrick said. “That would be much worse. I’m quite concerned that my nostril fire would destroy the transmitter and it would be useless.”
The Bad Boys of Assjacket: Magic and Mayhem Universe: Magic and Mayhem Book 9 Page 8