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“What they said was disgusting,” he hissed. “Firstly, I don’t have a cootchie. And if I did, I’d wax it.”
“TMI,” I said with a wince. “The best way to get them back is to play them at their own game.”
“Not following, Bitch Goddess Cecily.”
“I can help you with that,” I promised.
“On no,” Abaddon muttered, scrubbing his hands over his handsome jaw.
“Oh, hell yes,” Cher said.
“Explain,” Jonny said, still pouting.
Demons were a such sensitive bunch. “Repeat after me. Dang Lin-Wang.”
He grinned and repeated.
I nodded my approval. “Now say these ones. Peter Pantz. Anita Bath. Betty Humpter. C. Mike Crack.”
Jonny recited the names and trembled with excitement.
Abaddon’s head hit the table with a thud. “How old are you? Twelve?”
“I’m forty and fiiine,” I shot back. “Even you have to admit, a little potty talk is far better than a bloodbath.”
“Fine point. Well made,” he conceded. “Remind me to stay on your good side.”
“Will do,” I said as Jonny sprinted back to the gals, screeching their new monikers.
Of course, Ophelia was no slouch in the profanely insulting names department. We’d had a go of it on a long car ride to Vegas. When I’d heard her call Jonny Anita Fartinghouse, I’d lost it. At least they were having fun, and no one was bleeding. It was the little things that counted.
“Houston, we have a little problem,” Cher announced with a gag.
Quickly, I turned my head in the direction she was looking. Relief washed over me as I realized it wasn’t a life-threatening issue. It was just foul and alarming.
Uncle Joe had been a nudist in life. He was a nudist in death. I was getting used to it. My uncle was one of my favorite people in the world—sweet, kind and adorable. My fondest wish was that he’d stick around for a while. He loved flying, dancing, yoga and making sure the food in Sean’s and my houses wasn’t growing fur or mold.
Corny, on the other hand wasn’t nearly as cute as my uncle. Two decades ago, I’d done a movie of the week with him. He’d played my dad. Off camera, he’d hit on me repeatedly. It was disgusting. Twice I’d been treated to the visual of his wrinkled junk. I had my dresser steal his dentures to get the old man to back off. I’d refused to give them back until I had it in writing that he’d sexually harassed me and would never bother me again. He knew I’d go straight to the tabloids if I had to which would ruin his nice guy persona.
It had been before the Me-Too movement, when jackasses like Corny didn’t see anything wrong with exposing their ding-dongs to women on the regular. The pilfering of the dentures had been genius. The idiot hadn’t wanted the world to know he was toothless. I’d dipped them in the toilet before returning them. It was the little things that created the most joy.
The movie we’d done had stunk. My character, Miranda Diamond, had moved back home from the big city to help with the failing family Christmas tree business called the Bush Bonanza. The matriarch of the family had passed on in a bizarre gardening accident that was referred to constantly but never explained. That was bad, but it got worse.
Much to my own personal horror—not Miranda’s—I’d given up my swanky, high-paying job in NYC, came home and fell in love with a lumberjack/ horticulturist who didn’t speak English. Dolph Gunter—played by a guy whose name I couldn’t recall. No one could explain the oxymoron of his jobs… He was supposed to be German but sounded more like The Swedish Chef from the Muppets. He’d also had some seriously bad breath and there had been far too many kissing scenes. I’d refused to watch it when it aired. Sean and Man-mom had thought it was hilarious. It wasn’t a comedy.
Suffice it to say, the Demon was an idiot, but he’d stepped up in a major way to help me save Man-mom. For that, I would let his past be his past. One of the Demon’s gifts was flying. He’d helped all of us avoid getting offed by Pandora. Unfortunately, he flew best while naked.
The dance party on the lawn was over. Corny Crackers and Uncle Joe were now flying around and squealing like little girls.
Naked.
Both of them.
It was one thing to see a ghost naked. It was entirely another to see a flesh and blood Demon’s junk flapping in the wind. Again, I was glad I hadn’t partaken in the Tater-tot Casserole. It looked like poop in a bowl. I couldn’t begin to imagine what it would look like being hurled out of my mouth.
I groaned. “Is that really my responsibility?”
Cher winked. “You’re the Bitch Goddess Cecily, and that buck-assed naked geezer is one of your people. So… I’m gonna have to say yep.”
