A Fashionable Fiasco

by Robyn Peterman

  “Be that as it may, you are up to something,” Fred replied, blushing at being complimented on his short shorts. “I will ask no questions. However, I grant you the right to use Purgatory as you see fit. I will welcome Beulah Cocksmacker and her son to my territory.”

  “And Velma, Joan, Cathy, Fran and Hortense,” I added with a wince.

  Fred blanched and paled considerably. “I should have known they would be back. Are there any more surprises?”

  “God and Satan will be joining us for dinner as well,” I told him. “Do you happen to have any aprons that you wouldn’t mind being incinerated?”

  Fred stared at me quizzically and then shook his head. “Yes, I have aprons. Is the meal being catered… I hope?”

  “Shit,” I hissed and smacked myself in the head. “I was so busy organizing the shitshow, I forgot about the food.”

  “Not to worry. The Mini Fire Gnomes are actually tremendous chefs. They can sear a fillet like no one I’ve ever come across.”

  “Those little foul-mouthed idiots can cook?” I asked, shocked.

  “They’ve taught me a thing or two and I trained with Julia Child once she got to Heaven—lovely woman,” Fred commented.

  I paused in thought for a moment. The vulgar flaming midgets came from my dream. That had to mean something. Maybe if we made it through this hot mess, I should invite them to Nirvana to teach me how to cook. Or not. Their language was appalling. Dealing with Bonnie Hooper was enough.

  “Have the little assholes create a feast, please,” I told Fred. “But no nuts. God has a peanut allergy.”

  “As you wish, Gaia,” Fred said as he snapped his fingers and the Mini Fire Gnomes came tumbling across the sand.

  They seated themselves in a flaming circle around Fred and stared at him with adoration. Not one filthy word left their smoking lips as they waited for direction from the kindest man who ever lived.

  “Boys, we’re going to create a feast,” he told them as they oohed and ahhed over every word Fred uttered. “However, I’m making some ground rules. We will not burn my cottage to the ground… again. And we will no longer use the term butt-sniffing cocksucker when referring to each other. Am I clear?”

  The smallest of the Mini Fire Gnomes raised his ignited hand and politely waited to be called on. I was stunned to silence. Only days ago, the little shits were unruly and out of control. Fred was magical.

  “Yes, Kenny?” Fred asked. “You have a question?”

  “I do,” Kenny replied as smoke poured out of his mouth. “Could you please suggest some alternatives to butt-sniffing cocksucker?”

  All twenty smoldering little dudes nodded enthusiastically.

  Fred smiled. “I’d be delighted,” he told Kenny warmly. “How about friend?”

  The chatter grew loud and the flames grew higher as the tiny things discussed the new option. Again, Kenny raised his hand.

  “Kenny?” Fred said.

  “So, you mean just friend? Not butt-sniffing cocksucker friend.”

  Fred bit down on his lip and tried not to laugh. Kenny was so earnest it would have been horrible to laugh—and possibly dangerous considering he was literally on fire. “Umm… yes. Just friend. And thank you for clarifying, Kenny.”

  “My pleasure,” Kenny replied, preening under Fred’s approval.

  “Boys,” Fred said as he carefully stepped out of the ring of fire. “Let’s go to my cottage and get cooking.”

  With that, Mr. Rogers and the tiny flaming weirdos poofed away. Glancing around, I searched the horizon for my posse and the invited guests.

  “It looks just like the clouds,” Bill said, perplexed as he stared at the scene in front of us. “Only a few pieces are missing.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, trying to see what he saw.

  “When I flew you to the clouds,” he explained, pointing at the mountain, the sand and the water. “The terrain is the same. We’re just missing the players.”

  I sucked in a breath as I realized he was correct. Fate had said the clues were in my dreams and in the clouds. If I’d known she was being literal, I could have saved some damned time.

  There was no Angel or Demon atop the mountain… yet. There was no winged monster on the beach… yet. There was no fire on the water. There were no large ladies wrestling a woman in a business suit. And there was no cloaked man in the distance.

  Aside from the cloaked man, I could figure out the who the rest of the players were. Maybe Darby Dick Demon would be wearing a cape. Normally during our sessions, the Demon was dressed from head to toe in black combat gear with a questionably fashionable beret on his head. However, Darby was a fashion renegade. I wouldn’t put a cloak past him.

  “We’re in the right place,” I said, feeling a strange tingle in my stomach. It was a cross between excitement and terror. Kind of like when I ate the spaghetti and meatballs I’d made a few months back. Of course, the spaghetti and meatballs had ended very badly… for me… and Bill… and Studly.

  I had no plans for today to go the way of my attempt at an Italian meal. To avoid the end, I must create a new beginning and that was exactly what I was going to do.

  “I love you, Bill,” I whispered as I felt the wind change direction.

  My guests were about to arrive.

  “I love you more,” Bill replied, kissing the top of my head.

  “Not possible,” I told him. “Let’s call it even.”

  “Deal,” Bill said with a smile. “Are you ready?”

  “Nope, but that hasn’t stopped me yet.”

  “That’s my girl,” Bill said.

  I was his girl. And I planned to stay that way.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Sweet Hell on earth,” Darby squealed with a shudder as he gaped in shock at the sleep-inducing, beige landscape. “This place is terrifying.”

  “You live in Hell,” I pointed out. For a deadly Demon, he was quite the weenie sometimes.

  “Exactly my point,” he said with an eye roll.

  Cathy and Darby Dick Demon were the first to arrive. Cathy had just adored Hell—thought it was the cutest place ever. The Fairy’s insanity was definitely showing, but I didn’t care. She’d gotten Darby to come and he’d agreed to the lavender Diane von Furstenberg. She didn’t even have to mention the silver Prada. It was a win-win as far as I was concerned.

  “Why exactly am I here?” Darby inquired, trying not to step on the sand, which was ridiculous.

  He was hopping around like a bunny wearing a raspberry beret and all black with high-heeled combat boots.

  “You’re going to counsel Bonnie Cooter and her son—the spawn of the Antichrist,” I explained.

  “Ahh, family issues,” he said, pulling a notebook and pen from his man-purse. “Was there some kind of misunderstanding?”

  “Something like that,” I muttered as God and Satan looking shell shocked, arrived in a blast of magic with a grinning Velma. “Just don’t let them kill each other. It will bring on the end times.”

  “Shit,” Darby said and started taking notes.

  “Mother,” Satan said, narrowing his eyes and shoving God between him and Velma. “Is there a reason you couldn’t have just called?”

  “Time crunch,” I said with a naughty little smile. “Had to send Velma.”

  “Sorry, I can’t hear you,” Satan shouted in extreme exaggeration, eyeing Velma with horror. “I do believe I lost an eardrum.”

  “It was a bit disconcerting to be summoned in the key of Z minor,” God said politely, shifting to the left so Satan was now next to Velma. “However, I’m pleased to be here.”

  “No, you’re not,” Satan hissed and shot him with a fireball.

  “Yessss, I am,” God snapped and retaliated with a bolt of lightning.

  “Enough,” I shouted and electrocuted both of them. “We have no time for fun and games right now, boys.”

  “My apologies, Mother,” God said sincerely.

  “Mine too,” Satan said with an eye
roll. “Not.”

  “Everyone take a seat,” I instructed.

  “Where? On the sand?” Darby gasped out with a horrified expression and his hand on his heart.

  Bringing my therapist here might have been a dreadful mistake, but it was too late now. Clapping my hands, I created an exquisitely set table for thirteen. The unlucky number was slightly alarming, but that was the headcount. I would never be short a chair. That would be mortifying. I might be a terrible cook, but I was an excellent hostess. I did consider putting a fourteenth chair for Mr. Rogers, but I’d already pushed my dear friend past his limit. He’d be far happier in the kitchen with the butt-sniffing cocksuckers… I mean, his friends.

  The peach linen table cloth and the teal and hot-pink china lent some needed personality to the bland, colorless landscape. Crystal wine goblets twinkled in the sun, causing a sprinkling of orb-like rainbow dots across the sand. I chose bright yellow napkins with floral rings to complete the table along with a centerpiece of purple and peppermint striped roses. I had no clue what was being served, but the décor was stunning.

  “Sit at the table,” I directed everyone. “I have a little story to tell.”

  “Ohhhhh, I adore a good story,” Darby said as he seated himself next to his boss, Satan. “Especially if it’s a romance. I’m quite partial to the ones where the heroine gets knocked up and the hero doesn’t know. Then the hero leaves town for a job or some other bullshit reason like a yard sale. The kicker is he comes back because the yard sale sucked and there are all these fabu misunderstandings. And then sex. Lots of sex.”

  Everyone was speechless. Again, I silently lambasted myself for bringing the dingbat to Purgatory. I was floored that I’d been paying Darby for therapy. His choice of romance trope was positively shitty. I far preferred humorous paranormal romance. My shrink was an idiot.

  “Mmmkay,” I said, standing next to Bill as he seated himself at the head of the table. “I’m going to pretend Darby was speaking a language that I don’t understand. Of course, this is ridiculous since I know them all. But there are far bigger fish to fry than to debate Darby’s shitty taste in romance novels. I’m choosing to play it that way so I don’t have to electrocute him.”

  “Thank you, darling,” Darby said, giving me a thumbs up.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Both God and Satan eyed Bill with great concern. Satan was no longer hard of hearing or pissed about being here. His laser focus was directed at his father. And neither he nor God liked what they saw.

  “Here’s the deal,” I said, getting straight to the heart of the matter. “I’m bringing the spawn of the Antichrist together for a dinner party with his mother, Bumpy Cockrock. Because of my dream, I believe that by bringing them together I can stop that little bastard Jim Bob Bob-Bob from breaking the rest of the Horsemen.”

  “That’s what’s happening to you?” Satan roared, as he stood up and moved to Bill faster than the eye could follow. The Devil stood nose to nose with his father and black sparks burst around him. “You’re stopping the fucking Horsemen of the Apocalypse?”

  “It’s my destiny,” Bill said, putting his arms around his son.

  For the first time in eternity, Satan didn’t pull away or act horrified to show affection. He wrapped his arms around Bill and held him tight.

  “This is impossible,” God said, shaking his head and approaching Bill and his brother. “I don’t understand where the spawn got the horses. It makes no sense.”

  “Making sense is irrelevant right now. I never make sense,” I responded. “The facts are standing right in front of us. Bill has already absorbed Pestilence and War—hence his silver-white hair and red eyes. If the other two seals are broken…” I couldn’t even finish the statement.

  “I will perish,” Bill supplied the answer that I had refused to speak aloud.

  “Unthinkable,” Satan snarled and set fire to the water in his fury.

  “I agree,” I said, eyeing the flames on the water as my stomach clenched. I realized everything would come to a head very soon. The players were arriving and the pictures from the clouds were coming to fruition. “According to Bunny Cooper, Jim Bob Slob-Nob is trying to gain points with the Antichrist by destroying the first defense against the Apocalypse. And I mean by destroying it now—long before the ends times actually occur,” I said, keeping the tremor out of my voice. There was very little I could do about the fire shooting from my fingertips.

  “Count to fifty-one,” Darby advised quickly as he conjured up an industrial-sized fire extinguisher.

  Nodding my thanks to my headshrinker, I blew off his suggestion. Looking like a volcano about to erupt could be to my advantage. Plus, I didn’t want to mute my power in any way. With my sons and myself on the same plane, there was more magic here than anywhere in the Universe at the moment.

  “The spawn and his mother have to come together and get along. I fully expect them to try to kill each other. So, we’re going to show them what a healthy loving family looks like,” I explained.

  “Who is that?” Satan asked, completely confused. “I see no healthy loving family.”

  “We’re the damned healthy loving family, you little shitass,” I snapped and electrocuted him. “We are going to model what love means. They will observe what a wholesome mother and son relationship looks like and they will emulate it. And if they don’t, we can simply shove it down their throats. Or tie them up and torture them until they comply.”

  “You could always threaten them with one of your cookies,” Satan said with a laugh as he smacked out the fire on his rear end.

  It wasn’t a bad idea…

  “While the idea has merit, I’m not sure it will work,” God said.

  Two images were at the forefront of my mind. The look of devastating pain in Jim Bob Bob-Bob’s soulless eyes at the grocery store and the broken look of despair on Becky’s face as she lay on the floor in my kitchen. They were two lost ships sailing in the night during a tsunami from Hell at the height of hurricane season in the eye of the storm. Or some other terrible metaphor like that. I didn’t care.

  It had to work.

  It would work.

  “A mother’s love is stronger than any magic in the Universe,” I stated firmly. “I love you no matter how terribly naughty you are,” I told Satan and then turned my attention to God. “And I love you no matter how delightfully good you are.”

  “Do I really have to listen to this crap?” Satan muttered, shooting his brother the bird.

  With a flick of my fingers, I electrocuted the Devil. Again.

  “I did that because I love you,” I told Satan with a grin. “I can’t even imagine where you’d be today without me.”

  Satan rolled his eyes and bust out laughing. “I’d be richer because I wouldn’t have had to pay for thousands of years of therapy, Mother.”

  “Possibly,” I said as I grabbed him by the hair and laid a big wet mommy kiss on his cheek. “But life would be a Hell of a lot more boring. Wouldn’t it?”

  “For the love of everything illegal,” Satan groused. “This affection has gotten entirely out of hand.”

  “I’ll take one of those kisses, Mom,” God said with a grin, shoving Satan aside and hugging me tight.

  “Kiss ass,” Satan muttered as he pulled God off of me and gave me a hug of his own. “I will deny all of this appalling behavior once we’re done here. However, I’d like to go on record and say that I’m Mother’s favorite.”

  “That shall be expunged from the records,” God said, kicking Satan’s feet out from under him and stealing me away. “I’m the favorite.”

  With a delighted giggle, I extricated myself and placed a hand on each of my beloved sons. “There is no favorite. When a mother has more than one child, her heart grows bigger.”

  “Is that true?” Satan asked, eyeing me with mistrust.

  “It is,” Bill said as he too put his arms around me. “There is no magic more powerful than a mother’s love.”


  “He is Wisdom,” God pointed out with a chuckle. “I’m going to go with what Bill says.”

  “Smart boy,” I said and then got back to business. “This is my issue to solve. However, backup will be appreciated. I refuse to lose Bill. It is not an option.”

  Bill sat back down. I could tell he was exhausted and trying to hide it. Fred had given him a reprieve, but the battle still raged within. My chest tightened with worry. I gently kissed his cheek and made sure he was as comfortable as he could be. The next hour or two would change everything. I hoped.

  “Goddammed right it’s not an option to lose my father,” Satan growled.

  “Really?” God rolled his eyes. “I’m standing right here. There are plenty of curse words for you to use. Do we really have to take my name in vain?”

  “Would you like to suggest a replacement?” Satan asked, with a sly grin. “I’d love to hear you lay out a litany of curse words.”

  “I’m quite sure you would,” God said with a laugh. “However, I don’t have the time or the crayons to explain it to you.”

  “If you really spoke your mind, you’d be speechless,” Satan shot back with a laugh of his own.

  God shook his head and grinned. “Brains aren’t everything. In fact, in your case they’re nothing.”

  Satan raised a brow and smirked. “You should stop being a spherical dumbass. It’s not flattering.”

  We all paused and tried to figure out what the Hell he meant. Even Bill looked perplexed and he usually understood our obnoxious son. As we stood in silence, Satan got pissed and stomped his foot.

  “Seriously?” he demanded. “None of you got that?”

  Darby chimed in and tried to help his boss out. “I believe that since the globes of the buttocks could be considered spherical, that you must be referring to the actual shape of the funk-trunk. Therefore, it’s a double insult to your brother. Basically, you called him a twofold badonkadonk.”

  “Umm… no,” Satan said, with a wince at his subject’s choice of words.

  “Can I take a stab at it?” Cathy inquired.

  Satan rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air. “Go for it.”