“Actually,” Darby said, tilting his beret jauntily to the left and getting between mother and son. “This is where we will play the compliment game. It’s all kinds of fabu and you will love it! I’m convinced that we can avoid bloodshed and a massive hairy testicle removal if we simply open the lines of communication and let the love shine through because love is what makes the world go ‘round. All you need is love. Love is not a battlefield or it shouldn’t be unless you’re into that kind of thing. Oh, whoops, that’s not appropriate for this session. That was my last session with the Dom—who was quite hot and very bossy, by the way. And yes, I’m aware that love is a crazy little thing, but if we can love rock and roll we can certainly love each other.”
“Are you missing brain cells, merkin-head?” Becky said with an eye roll.
Jim Bob cleared his throat—which sounded like thunder rolling through Nirvana before a monsoon hit. “Can I get some clarification?”
“Sure, butt-basket,” Bonnie said.
“What’s a merkin?”
“A vagina wig, you little bastard. All the rage back in the 1400s. I hear they’re making a comeback now,” she explained as her son hung on her every word.
“Okay, no, no, no,” I said, pressing the bridge of my nose in horror. “That is not true.”
“If my mommy says it’s true, then it is,” Jim Bob bellowed in a fury.
“That’s right,” Boopsy said with a cackle. “The little fucker is on my side.”
“Awesome,” I muttered.
“Beware of what you wish for, Mother,” Satan said with a chuckle.
“Alrighty then, let’s play the game,” Darby announced. “Betsy, give the little fucker a compliment.”
“Do I have to?” she whined.
“You do,” Darby said with a smile of encouragement. “It will feel great! Try it.”
“Fine,” she grumbled and stared hard at her hairy son. “Umm… you don’t smell good, but I haven’t thrown up in my mouth yet, so I suppose it’s okay.”
“Fantastic start!” Darby said as he did what I could only describe as a cheerleader jump. “James Robert, it’s your turn.”
“Okay,” he said, scratching his bulbous head in thought. “How about, I love you so much that I want to peel the skin from your body, sew it into a romper and wear it forever?”
“Umm… no. Absolutely not,” Darby said with a shudder and a small scream. “Let’s try that again and not include anything about dismemberment.”
There was no cheerleading jump after the last admission.
Jim Bob was crestfallen, yet the stinky bastard didn’t give up. It was incredibly moving and sweet in a repulsive way.
“I love you so much that I will peel my own skin from my body, sew it into a romper and let you wear it for eternity. Better?” Jim Bob asked.
“Slightly,” Darby said with a wince. “I’m going to put both of you on my schedule for the next three hundred years. Although, you probably need a few hundred years more. Your appointment day will be on Mondays at 4:00 PM—Underworld time. My office is in Hell, but I’ll make house calls if you serve refreshments.”
“Soup in a skull?” Jim Bob asked, completely serious.
Darby was mute for a minute and a half. After scribbling notes into his notebook and moving his beret to the right side of his head, he was finally able to speak. “How about this? You will come to me. I think that will solve a multitude of issues and I won’t have to go to my own therapist.”
“Sounds good to me, fart-ball,” Becca said. “So, little fucker… I mean, James Robert.”
“I’m good with Little Fucker,” Jim Bob said, blushing with delight under his fur. “You’ve been calling me that for centuries. I like it.”
“Great,” Becky said with relief. “That was going to be a hard habit to break. So, anyhoo, Little Fucker, do you happen to have the other two Horsemen of the Apocalypse on you? I really need them.”
Jim Bob grinned and nodded his head. I almost fell to the ground in relief. Bill might have to live with Pestilence and War inside him, but he would live.
“Do you want me to break them like my daddy commanded me to?” he inquired, pulling a black and an ashen plastic horse from a furry pocket and holding them high in the air.
God sucked in a furious breath and Satan blew up my beautiful table. Of course, the Devil had the wherewithal to leave his father’s chair in one piece… and his father. Bill gave me a thumbs up and a grin to let me know he was fine.
“Hell to the NO, Little Fucker,” Becky shouted, finally sounding like a mother should. “And from now on you will refer to your sperm donor as Cocksocket. Am I clear?”
Jim Bob nodded. “Yes, mommy. What should I do with the horses? Cocksocket promised me if I broke all four that he would give me the honor of letting him beat me within an inch of my life daily for the next three centuries. Would you like to beat me? I can tell the Cocksocket to suck it if you would prefer to bring me to the brink of death on a daily basis. It would be an honor.”
Betsy Cocker almost split in half like Rumpelstiltskin she was so furious. Her face turned as red as her out of style jacket and she began to stomp around the beach, becoming more unhinged than she already was. With each step she took, small explosions rocked Purgatory. The mountain in the distance trembled and the beige landscape began to turn greyish black. Mr. Rogers was going to crap. He loved the calming and sleep-inducing color scheme of his territory. She was so out of control my posse had to wrestle her to the ground.
Five large women wrestling a woman in a business suit. Well, business suit was a stretch, especially considering her lack of undergarments, but the picture was correct. The clouds were coming alive. The end was drawing near.
Betsy finally got her shit together after Joan yanked out her wand and threatened her with a pair of permanent underpants. Clearly, Betsy took her commando status seriously. The lunatic was calmer, but she wasn’t any less enraged. Honestly, I didn’t blame her. I would destroy anyone who harmed my children.
“Little Fucker,” she screeched. “That is the last time you will ever talk about letting someone kick your smelly dingleberry covered butt again. Ever. From now on, any ass-flap who tries to fuck with you will have to come through me—including Cocksocket. I feel like shit right now. If I’d known that the attempts you took on my life meant you loved me, I never would have kicked your nuts up into your esophagus two hundred years ago. That had to have hurt like a bitch,” she said, still spitting mad. “Violence does not mean love. Never has. Never will. I sucked as the Grim Reaper because I didn’t have it in me to kill people. Of course, I know now that I wasn’t supposed to off any of the jackasses that I visited. And the real kick in the sphincter is that the fucking position doesn’t even exist according to the dude who can fuck himself. Crazy. Right? Now, swearing is fine. It’s my hobby and I’ve won many a cussing contest over the centuries.”
“There are cussing contests?” Joan asked, shocked.
My posse had been silent during the last twenty minutes, but they’d been ready to attack and maim at my command. I was proud to be part of their club. They were well-dressed, loyal and violent—my kind of girls.
“I could totally win a cussing contest,” Fran grunted, still holding the enchanted chain connected to Jim Bob’s junk.
“Sorry,” I said with a small giggle. “Betsy Cocker could kick your ass.”
“You said her name correctly,” Hortense pointed out.
She was right. I did. Maybe since Betsy had stepped up and was saving the day, I wouldn’t forget her name anymore. Maybe…
“Anyfuckinghodalyhoo,” Betsy went on. “We’re a family now—you and me. A fucked up, dysfunctional family and it’s all thanks to the hooter-box with the red hair. So, I want you to give me those horses to hang onto.”
“Okay, mommy,” Jim Bob said and held them out to her. Betsy took them and shoved them in her purse. “Can we free my junk now?”
“Sure thing,” Fran said, remo
ving the chain from Jim Bob’s nuts.
We were exactly ten seconds away from saving Bill and ultimately the Universe when the shit hit the fan. The picture was not yet complete. Well, it was now. I blamed myself for not noticing Darby wasn’t wearing a damn cape. If I’d been on top of everything, I would have realized that all the guests hadn’t arrived.
Until now.
Chapter Seventeen
The sky turned an ominous inky purple and the clouds looked like black and blue bruises floating aimlessly above. A putrid-smelling wind wafted through Purgatory. The beige foliage wilted and died. Pink-eyed beasts with seven heads circled above and tore jagged holes in the purple clouds with their horns. Drops of ice fell from the sky and I sucked in a horrified breath.
The dream was coming true and the cloaked man I’d seen in the clouds was not Darby. Not by any stretch of the imagination.
It was the Antichrist… and he’d arrived.
The abomination’s black eyes were sunk so far back in his head, he looked deformed. Grey skin stretched over his sharp cheekbones and his lips were thin and colorless. His robe was black and trimmed in snakes—live snakes that hissed and spit as he moved. His fashion sense was dreadful. Betsy had to have been plastered to have nailed the disgusting creature.
The only thing going for us right now was that Purgatory was off-limits as far as a battle went. It was a Law of the Universe and set in stone at the beginning of time. Literally. The stone still resided in the Garden of Eden. No wars in Purgatory. Ever. If it came to that, no one would survive—Immortal or not. However, damage could be done without a battle—devastating damage.
“Sorry I’m late. My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail,” the Antichrist hissed in a voice so purely evil, I felt like a needed a bath.
“Funny thing,” I said, stepping out in front of everyone. This was my battle to fight and fight I would. “I don’t recall sending you one.”
“It’s Cocksocket,” Jim Bob whispered, terrified. “Get behind me, Mommy. Now.”
“Not on your smelly life, Little Fucker,” Betsy grunted, as she stepped up next to me and shoved her son into the background. “My son is no longer alone in this shitshow. And I’d like to go on record that I was blackout wasted when I boinked that dude. Thank you.”
“I was going to say…” I muttered, glancing over at her.
“It had been a rough week,” Betsy said with a shrug. “I wear contacts now so my vision is sharper. Couldn’t see a damn thing thousands of years ago.”
“Were you blind?” Satan asked as he too stepped up next to me.
The Antichrist’s beady black eyes narrowed in surprise when he saw the Devil.
“Nope,” Betsy replied and then grinned. “But that’s my new story and I’m sticking to it. Thanks, boss.”
“I am not your boss,” Satan snapped, keeping his eyes on the Antichrist.
“Enough,” I admonished both of them. “Why are you here? You are not welcome in Purgatory. No battle shall be fought in this territory.”
“No battle needed. I am quite aware that this plane is off-limits,” the Antichrist snarled as his snakes hissed. “I believe you are in possession of something that belongs to me.”
“And I believe you are wrong,” God said as he too joined us. “The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse belong to no one.”
God’s presence gave the Antichrist pause. The sky became even darker and the flying beasts multiplied. His roar chilled my blood, but I didn’t move an inch. The Antichrist grew agitated and began to pace, leaving charred ground with each step he took.
“The end times are not on the schedule,” God continued in a voice that made the hair stand up on my neck. “You are not welcome here.”
“Your point?” the Antichrist snarled.
“That’s my line, you son-of-a-bitch,” Satan said as flames engulfed him and his lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I just despise it when someone steals my line.”
The Antichrist quickly glanced around and shuddered when he noticed Hortense, Joan, Fran, Velma and Cathy. My posse’s reputation was known far and wide. But he didn’t smile until he saw Bill. And the smile was not pretty.
“Enforcer,” he purred in an oily tone. “How are you feeling?”
“Never better,” Bill said as he rose from his chair and moved to stand by my side. “You have broken the rules.”
“And what are rules if they’re not made to be broken,” the hideous creature inquired. “I decided to even the playing field for the end times. It’s simply not fair that it’s me against all of you. I’m only eliminating one player.”
“Wait. What?” Jim Bob asked in shock. “The Enforcer is going to die? You didn’t tell me that.”
The Antichrist raised his hand shot a massive bolt of black magic at his son. The sizzle as it burned the skin and fur from his body was horrifying. Without a second thought, Betsy took a flying leap and tackled her enormous son, rolling him in the sand until the fire subsided. “Nobody screws with my Little Fucker,” she roared. He’s mine. He smells awful, but I’m gonna solve that shit. Next time you touch him, your bony ass is grass.”
“Try it, pathetic woman,” the Antichrist said with an ugly laugh. “It would give me great pleasure to eliminate you. I’d quite enjoy tearing your limbs from your body and watching you bleed out.”
“I have the worst fucking taste in men,” Betsy grumbled as she flipped off the Antichrist.
“First off, tearing limbs from bodies is very unoriginal. I’d have thought you were more creative than that. Secondly, none of that shit is happening in Purgatory,” Satan said with a raised brow. “Not unless you’d like the fires of Hell to rain down on you. Everyone knows that killing in Purgatory is a fucking no-no. However, if you’d like to kill her, I’d be more than pleased to escort you to the Basement of Hell.”
“NO,” Jim Bob bellowed as he limped forward and made sure his mother was behind him. “I will take her place. I’m worth nothing. Take me. Kill me now.”
“I will never kick you in the nads again, Little Fucker,” Betsy said, moving to stand next to her son and hugging him… or at least hugging his leg as he was so huge.
“That’s real progress,” Darby said with a thumbs up to Betsy as he too joined the front line. “Little Fucker what do you have to say to your mom?”
“Thank you, Mommy,” Jim Bob replied with a smile that normally would have terrified me since his teeth were so large and pointy, but right now it warmed my heart.
“You sicken me,” the Antichrist snarled at the trembling Jim Bob who stepped forward again and offered himself in place of his mother. “You are an embarrassment and a blight on my bloodline. I should have destroyed you when you were born. You can’t kill a fly.”
“And why didn’t you?” Satan inquired, folding his inflamed arms across his chest. “Is it possible that you can’t? He is of your bloodline.”
“Rubbish,” the Antichrist roared and grew taller in his ire. “I could kill the boy at any time.”
“The boy has a name, you small peckered jack-hole,” Betsy announced as she glared at the Antichrist with hatred. “It’s Little Fucker and you will use that from now on.”
“Excellent way to stand up for your son,” Darby congratulated Betsy.
“I thought that was a good one,” Betsy replied with pride. “I thought the small peckered jack-hole part was inspired.”
“ENOUGH! Give me the horses and I shall leave,” the Antichrist shouted, causing more of Purgatory to burn.
“I’m so sorry. That’s not going to happen,” Mr. Rogers announced as he joined the standoff with twenty tiny flaming gnomes carrying trays of food behind him.
Fred looked around his territory shook his head and sighed.
“Who the Hell are you?” the Antichrist roared.
Clearly, the Antichrist didn’t have a TV. Fred Rogers was one of the most recognized men in the Universe—and the most beloved.
“I’m the man
who summoned you here today,” Fred replied as he nodded to his friends. With a snap of his fingers, the table was restored to its original glory. The Mini Fire Gnomes quickly and efficiently began to place the feast on the table.
Wait. Fred summoned the Antichrist? I wasn’t sure I loved him anymore.
“I’m leaving.” The Antichrist bellowed as smoke and fire came flying from his mouth, nose and ears, covering his body in flames. His snakes hissed as the noxious flames seared their skin, but they stayed with their heinous master.
Continuing calmly with no wasted movement, Fred placed God’s hand in Satan’s.
“Create a bubble,” he instructed politely, but firmly. “No one in and no one out.”
“As you wish,” my boys said in unison.
Glorious and blinding white light highlighted by shimmering black fire exploded from my children and created an impenetrable orb that encompassed Purgatory. I gasped at the beauty and realized yet another picture from the clouds had been realized. An Angel and a Demon hand in hand.
“Ladies—and I use the term cautiously,” Fred said, turning to my posse with trepidation. “Can you secure the beast without killing him?”
“Thought you’d never ask,” Joan said with a wide grin and a terrifying cackle as she and the rest of the Eternal Crème de la Crème Society went batshit crazy on the Antichrist.
Wands, fangs, magical chains, throwing stars, swords and a tank were used. The language was just awful. I was now unsure that Betsy would win a cussing contest against Fran. Velma came in a close second with Hortense making a fine showing at third. God and Satan were positively flabbergasted. I had to admit I was as well.
In a matter of four minutes and twelve seconds, the Antichrist was bound within an inch of his evil life. They’d run him over with the tank seven times. His screams of terror left me cold. Joan was an absolute genius with her wand. Cathy’s wings were deadly weapons and her sweat dripping into the open wounds of the Antichrist apparently burned like acid, if one were to believe the evil creature. And Fran? She drove a tank like a drunkard on a mission from Hell.
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