Innocent of this, say I. Complain to the banana pit, say I.
[FONT="] I stumbled out of RT’s place into the bright sunlight and blinked. Sheesh! Give me a full moon any day.[/FONT] Grabbing Inky's pole to steady myself, I pulled Haggis from my bustier and plopped him with much pomp and ceremony, to the ground.
A businessman turned to watch. Big mistake. I smiled and cast a glamour. His face scrunched as he looked down and reddened.
“Jay. Jay. JAY! JAYCINTH!!!”
“What Haggis?” He’d morphed back into his human shape to better berate me. Well… mostly. He kept that cute little head, which made him a caricature of Anubis. Said god was sulking, the past centuries having deprived him of worshipers that were not D&D nerds. Haggis was safe.
“Stop playing with people, you’ll get a ticket.”
“He should have kept his eyes to himself.”
“You’re going to just leave him like that?”
“Yeah. Look at him, he’s a real stand up guy, Haggis.”
Haggis rolled his eyes
“You know, Haggis, Something stinks.”
“Oh, no, Jay . . . don’t blame me. Duh! We were just in THERE!”
He pointed an un-morphed paw in the direction of the magic shop. It really creeps me out when he does that, and I’ve seen a lot of creepy things.
“No, I mean something’s not right.”
Haggis looked at me with that woeful expression of his then continued pointing with his other paw.
“No, I mean something’s fishy.”
“Did you bathe?” he asked.
One day I’m going to seriously damage that dog.
“I MEAN something’s rotten!”
“You shouldn’t talk about Ben that way.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Haggis.” He wanted to play games, so I dragged out every cliché in my repertoire.
“I smell a rat, something’s wrong here, there’s a glitch in the program, the books have been cooking, rats in the cellar, flies in the ointment . . .”
“Huh?”
I hate it when he does that. I needed to end this game quickly, so I pulled out the nukes.
“The cats have been barking.”
“You think there’s something wrong?”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice that crooked sneer?”
“He always has a crooked sneer, Jay. I’ve known him a long time. You can trust me on this.”
“It was on the wrong side of his face.”
“His face is on the wrong side of his face. But go on, I’m listening.”
“As usual, he leered at me, but he kept his hands to himself.”
In another time and another place, RT and I had a misunderstanding. It was a very, very small misunderstanding, not even worth mentioning. But, as a result, he feels better if he frisks me. There’s a reason Haggis rides on my boobs.
“I was there to keep his greasy hands off you!” Haggis said, licking the remnants of his morning bacon off his paws.
“No, there was something else.”
“He had his pants on, Jay. ‘Thundercats’. I checked.”
“Let’s get out of here.” I turned and trotted off, forcing
Haggis to scamper after me. He hates scampering, but I wasn’t in a mood to wait. My brain was about to start working and I needed an infusion of heavenly nectar to keep it going.
Strutting up the street accomplished two things: I brought traffic to a halt and I forced Haggis to shape-shift again to keep up. If you don’t know how to do it, I’ll show you how to walk the dog. Rounding the corner, I crossed the street and dashed into the Bologna and Cream Cheese Burrito Cantina. I was scarcely through the door when who should hop up but QuickWit.
“What are you doing in these parts, Lady Jay?”
“Hello, QuickWit, how are you doing?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Hey, can’t a lady go out for a bite to eat, see her friends…”
“You got a bad habit involving polyurethane, and your temper is legendary. I don’t want any trouble, Lady Jay. I run a nice place here.”
Haggis had pushed through the door and snagged a booth in the back of the place, and began checking out the current crop of waitresses.
“Don’t worry, Witty of the Quickness, it’s all cool,” I said.
“Do I look like I’m carrying any poly?” Quick Wit shook his head.
“No…”
What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him: under the leather I have a few enhancements such as strategic packs of liquid poly padding. It’s all very figure enhancing, but I don’t think you’ll see this for $29.95 on QVC. I winked at Quickie.
“Just get one of those hunky waiters to bring a pot of black for Haggis and a tumbler of triple caramel chocolate double espresso latte with whipped cream and 151 to that back booth along with a menu, ‘k?”
“We don’t have menus.”
“I’ll read the tag on the waiter’s g-string. And by the way, RT’s set Anis on you.”
Quick Wit paled, then hopped off to grab a waiter as I slid in beside Haggis. He’d been panting like a dog as the scantily clad waitress picked up the last of the plates from the adjoining table and walked off. A moment later the waiter arrived with the order.
“I don’t see how you can run in those heels,” Haggis said, as I emptied the 20th packet of sugar into my confection.
“Easy, they’re Dolce Vita,” I replied, empting the 21st packet of sugar into my confection.
I’m a fairy. I love nectar. Sugar will do in a pinch. Caffeine is just a wonderful plus. Don’t get me started on chocolate.
“Why are we in this place, anyway?” Haggis asked. “The only thing they serve is this stuff,” he pointed to the coffee, “and those awful bologna and cream cheese monstrosities.”
“Burritos,” I corrected.
“Look at me,” Haggis barked. It was that sharp, grating yapping that makes me crave chocolate and chainsaws.
“Look at me!!! Don’t you think I know from a BURRITO?”
“Of course I do, Haggis. When have I not stereotyped you?”
“Well, yeah . . .” he was calm now, sipping his coffee.
“But…you know, Jay, Soccer Mom’s Coffee House of Pain is the next block over.”
Soccer Mom is a scrappy attorney from the Yorkie side of Texas. A terror of a terrier, and until an hour ago, I thought she was on our side. She’s represented the Cabaret and its various denizens on more than one occasion, and from day one Haggis was besotted with the way her curley hair fell in front of those big, brown, sparkling, puppy eyes. They’d be an item if it weren’t for Paris and the Pomeranian sisters. One day Haggis will have to choose, and it won’t be pretty.
“Rolling Thunder, if that was Rolling Thunder, practically threw that information at us. Sun dried Armadillo, chicken lungs. It’s bait. He wants us to go see Soccer Mom. But he also knows I’m not likely to go to that side of town. But the Coffee House Of Pain is only blocks away. He didn’t even bring that up, because he knew we’d go there. Or you’d go there. That’s why I came here.”
“Because you’re a ditzy, paranoid, sociopathic fairy who collects conspiracy theories?”
“Right!” I love it when Haggis gets me. My brain was working now, so I continued speculating.
“Soccer Mom used to hang in the Cabaret, Haggis. She used to scratch Bernie behind the ears. She used to share pig ears with you. But she hasn’t been around for awhile. Not since she got into LOL Cats.”
“She’s been busy with work, Jay.”
“Right. Work, then the Coffee House and now a Playhouse. Both loaded with LOL Cats, I bet. She’s a SOCCER MOM, Haggis. A SOCCER MOM! They always have time to squeeze in one more activity.”
Haggis just looked at me. I think things were starting to sink in, like arrows shot through a dangling corpse.
“There’s nothing . . . actually . . . wrong . . .with . . . LOL . . . C-c-c-cats, Jay.” Haggis was twitching. It must have hurt him to say that.
“You think it’s legit, that Mscelina has her on a retainer?” I asked.
“Naw, Soccer Mom’s got perfect teeth. Perfect….”
“No, I mean on the payroll, hired . . .”
“It would make sense, wouldn’t it?” He asked.
“Yes. It makes perfect, logical, irrefutable sense.”
“That’s why the cat’s barking.”
“And Haggis, I don’t like the sound of that bark.”
“So what do we do now?” He drained his cup and put it down with a clatter. No one noticed, the place was noisy as hell. I finished my drink then took a pull from my hip flask to wash it all down. Have I mentioned that alcohol is like liquid sugar to me?
“We have to stop this nefarious plot from rudely hatching! We need to know more about that shipment of armadillos, Haggis.”
“Screw the armadillos, we have to find Mel and those peppers, Jay.”
“No. I mean yes. I mean, do you remember Managua in 2003?”
“Tequila, and a little bitch named Fluffy, and…”
“And Mel made that chili with hot-peppers, Armadillo and CHICKEN LUNGS. The next day we had Mt. Masaya going all freaky wit’ it.”
“But the Armadillo is going to the Sauerkraut Packers convention.”
“Exactly. We need more intel, someone who can find out what on earth those sauerkraut packers are planning for those armadillos.
“Auntie Bug,” Haggis said. He was as serious as black paint.
“Haggis, are you suggesting . . .”
His face was grim as he looked at me and growled,
“We’re going to Bug the convention.”
"But with all those freckles, she'll stand out like a whore in church."
"Long sleeves," said Haggis. And make up. Heavy, heavy make up."
Chapter 4
[FONT="] I stumbled out of RT’s place into the bright sunlight and blinked. Sheesh! Give me a full moon any day.[/FONT] Grabbing Inky's pole to steady myself, I pulled Haggis from my bustier and plopped him with much pomp and ceremony, to the ground.
A businessman turned to watch. Big mistake. I smiled and cast a glamour. His face scrunched as he looked down and reddened.
“Jay. Jay. JAY! JAYCINTH!!!”
“What Haggis?” He’d morphed back into his human shape to better berate me. Well… mostly. He kept that cute little head, which made him a caricature of Anubis. Said god was sulking, the past centuries having deprived him of worshipers that were not D&D nerds. Haggis was safe.
“Stop playing with people, you’ll get a ticket.”
“He should have kept his eyes to himself.”
“You’re going to just leave him like that?”
“Yeah. Look at him, he’s a real stand up guy, Haggis.”
Haggis rolled his eyes
“You know, Haggis, Something stinks.”
“Oh, no, Jay . . . don’t blame me. Duh! We were just in THERE!”
He pointed an un-morphed paw in the direction of the magic shop. It really creeps me out when he does that, and I’ve seen a lot of creepy things.
“No, I mean something’s not right.”
Haggis looked at me with that woeful expression of his then continued pointing with his other paw.
“No, I mean something’s fishy.”
“Did you bathe?” he asked.
One day I’m going to seriously damage that dog.
“I MEAN something’s rotten!”
“You shouldn’t talk about Ben that way.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Haggis.” He wanted to play games, so I dragged out every cliché in my repertoire.
“I smell a rat, something’s wrong here, there’s a glitch in the program, the books have been cooking, rats in the cellar, flies in the ointment . . .”
“Huh?”
I hate it when he does that. I needed to end this game quickly, so I pulled out the nukes.
“The cats have been barking.”
“You think there’s something wrong?”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice that crooked sneer?”
“He always has a crooked sneer, Jay. I’ve known him a long time. You can trust me on this.”
“It was on the wrong side of his face.”
“His face is on the wrong side of his face. But go on, I’m listening.”
“As usual, he leered at me, but he kept his hands to himself.”
In another time and another place, RT and I had a misunderstanding. It was a very, very small misunderstanding, not even worth mentioning. But, as a result, he feels better if he frisks me. There’s a reason Haggis rides on my boobs.
“I was there to keep his greasy hands off you!” Haggis said, licking the remnants of his morning bacon off his paws.
“No, there was something else.”
“He had his pants on, Jay. ‘Thundercats’. I checked.”
“Let’s get out of here.” I turned and trotted off, forcing
Haggis to scamper after me. He hates scampering, but I wasn’t in a mood to wait. My brain was about to start working and I needed an infusion of heavenly nectar to keep it going.
Strutting up the street accomplished two things: I brought traffic to a halt and I forced Haggis to shape-shift again to keep up. If you don’t know how to do it, I’ll show you how to walk the dog. Rounding the corner, I crossed the street and dashed into the Bologna and Cream Cheese Burrito Cantina. I was scarcely through the door when who should hop up but QuickWit.
“What are you doing in these parts, Lady Jay?”
“Hello, QuickWit, how are you doing?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Hey, can’t a lady go out for a bite to eat, see her friends…”
“You got a bad habit involving polyurethane, and your temper is legendary. I don’t want any trouble, Lady Jay. I run a nice place here.”
Haggis had pushed through the door and snagged a booth in the back of the place, and began checking out the current crop of waitresses.
“Don’t worry, Witty of the Quickness, it’s all cool,” I said.
“Do I look like I’m carrying any poly?” Quick Wit shook his head.
“No…”
What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him: under the leather I have a few enhancements such as strategic packs of liquid poly padding. It’s all very figure enhancing, but I don’t think you’ll see this for $29.95 on QVC. I winked at Quickie.
“Just get one of those hunky waiters to bring a pot of black for Haggis and a tumbler of triple caramel chocolate double espresso latte with whipped cream and 151 to that back booth along with a menu, ‘k?”
“We don’t have menus.”
“I’ll read the tag on the waiter’s g-string. And by the way, RT’s set Anis on you.”
Quick Wit paled, then hopped off to grab a waiter as I slid in beside Haggis. He’d been panting like a dog as the scantily clad waitress picked up the last of the plates from the adjoining table and walked off. A moment later the waiter arrived with the order.
“I don’t see how you can run in those heels,” Haggis said, as I emptied the 20th packet of sugar into my confection.
“Easy, they’re Dolce Vita,” I replied, empting the 21st packet of sugar into my confection.
I’m a fairy. I love nectar. Sugar will do in a pinch. Caffeine is just a wonderful plus. Don’t get me started on chocolate.
“Why are we in this place, anyway?” Haggis asked. “The only thing they serve is this stuff,” he pointed to the coffee, “and those awful bologna and cream cheese monstrosities.”
“Burritos,” I corrected.
“Look at me,” Haggis barked. It was that sharp, grating yapping that makes me crave chocolate and chainsaws.
“Look at me!!! Don’t you think I know from a BURRITO?”
“Of course I do, Haggis. When have I not stereotyped you?”
“Well, yeah . . .” he was calm now, sipping his coffee.
“But…you know, Jay, Soccer Mom’s Coffee House of Pain is the next block over.”
Soccer Mom is a scrappy attorney from the Yorkie side of Texas. A terror of a terrier, and until an hour ago, I thought she was on our side. She’s represented the Cabaret and its various denizens on more than one occasion, and from day one Haggis was besotted with the way her curley hair fell in front of those big, brown, sparkling, puppy eyes. They’d be an item if it weren’t for Paris and the Pomeranian sisters. One day Haggis will have to choose, and it won’t be pretty.
“Rolling Thunder, if that was Rolling Thunder, practically threw that information at us. Sun dried Armadillo, chicken lungs. It’s bait. He wants us to go see Soccer Mom. But he also knows I’m not likely to go to that side of town. But the Coffee House Of Pain is only blocks away. He didn’t even bring that up, because he knew we’d go there. Or you’d go there. That’s why I came here.”
“Because you’re a ditzy, paranoid, sociopathic fairy who collects conspiracy theories?”
“Right!” I love it when Haggis gets me. My brain was working now, so I continued speculating.
“Soccer Mom used to hang in the Cabaret, Haggis. She used to scratch Bernie behind the ears. She used to share pig ears with you. But she hasn’t been around for awhile. Not since she got into LOL Cats.”
“She’s been busy with work, Jay.”
“Right. Work, then the Coffee House and now a Playhouse. Both loaded with LOL Cats, I bet. She’s a SOCCER MOM, Haggis. A SOCCER MOM! They always have time to squeeze in one more activity.”
Haggis just looked at me. I think things were starting to sink in, like arrows shot through a dangling corpse.
“There’s nothing . . . actually . . . wrong . . .with . . . LOL . . . C-c-c-cats, Jay.” Haggis was twitching. It must have hurt him to say that.
“You think it’s legit, that Mscelina has her on a retainer?” I asked.
“Naw, Soccer Mom’s got perfect teeth. Perfect….”
“No, I mean on the payroll, hired . . .”
“It would make sense, wouldn’t it?” He asked.
“Yes. It makes perfect, logical, irrefutable sense.”
“That’s why the cat’s barking.”
“And Haggis, I don’t like the sound of that bark.”
“So what do we do now?” He drained his cup and put it down with a clatter. No one noticed, the place was noisy as hell. I finished my drink then took a pull from my hip flask to wash it all down. Have I mentioned that alcohol is like liquid sugar to me?
“We have to stop this nefarious plot from rudely hatching! We need to know more about that shipment of armadillos, Haggis.”
“Screw the armadillos, we have to find Mel and those peppers, Jay.”
“No. I mean yes. I mean, do you remember Managua in 2003?”
“Tequila, and a little bitch named Fluffy, and…”
“And Mel made that chili with hot-peppers, Armadillo and CHICKEN LUNGS. The next day we had Mt. Masaya going all freaky wit’ it.”
“But the Armadillo is going to the Sauerkraut Packers convention.”
“Exactly. We need more intel, someone who can find out what on earth those sauerkraut packers are planning for those armadillos.
“Auntie Bug,” Haggis said. He was as serious as black paint.
“Haggis, are you suggesting . . .”
His face was grim as he looked at me and growled,
“We’re going to Bug the convention.”
"But with all those freckles, she'll stand out like a whore in church."
"Long sleeves," said Haggis. And make up. Heavy, heavy make up."
More! More!
