Charles brought home a puppy one day, swear she’d been used for a grease rag in an auto shop. I had to use dish soap to get it all off. She was scared. She’d hide, she’d nip at the children, a chicken could chase her off. But she followed Charles around, he never had a hard word for her. Called her Lady.
The monster whined at me as if it were a dog. Well, then, it’s a dog. Untrained dogs are a little like monsters, come to think of it, so’s anybody that doesn’t know what’s to be done and what’s not to be done. The monster part of it wanted to eat me right up. The dog part of it wanted to be praised and loved and petted and told what’s to be done with it all. I made up some little pieces of things I remembered, and tossed a few in its direction. Snapped ‘em right up. And not me, thank goodness. Iazis laughed at me, well, I’m an old fool and so he should.
I never trained that puppy, she trained herself. Wet the carpet once, of course she was allowed in the house, she begged me with her eyes not to tell him. I didn’t, she never was trouble again. Too scared to chase cows, afraid of the little ones, too timid of guns to help with the hunting. She’d crawl under the beds and whimper whenever we had words. No real use to her, but I kept her fed. She kept Charles company out in the fields, rested under the tractor seat or waited out in the truck. Went to town with him. When she got too old, I’d keep her in the house, drive her with me to the fields to see him, bring her home again panting with heat.
Well, the damn thing nipped me when I tried to get it to eat out of my hand, but that wasn’t too bad. Even in the day it took a lot of pain to make me hurt. I used to think Charles—well, that’s not important. I got a call from somebody, probably Hank, but I didn’t want to leave behind what work I’d done with that pet of Iazis. Pride versus love, it’ll get you every time if you let yourself think it’s one or the other. I pulled whoever it was back with me (how I pulled that off I do not know), and someone came back with him. Meon? I think he belongs to Entropy, whoever it was. Trying to get to me through Hank.
Lady died before Charles fell ill the first time, a mercy. Or maybe a pity. Maybe Charles would have done better he’d had her around. She wasn’t doing so good one summer, must have been about fourteen or so, seen off the last of the kids and met the first couple of grandchildren with the same whimper and snarl. One day, I just knew. Charles was out in the fields, but we had a big old school bell out front to ring, in case of trouble. I rang it for an hour. Every few minutes I’d run out and ring it, ‘till Charles came home.
Hank had to try to get a couple of those pieces of memories that I’d dropped, came too close to the monster, and got bit. Bit his hand clean off. That Meon whooped and hollered so much you’d think it was him that got hurt. Hank just stared at his arm, like the hand wasn’t missing, bleeding all over the place. I can’t lose him. I just can’t.
Charles drove back in the tractor, he left the rake out in the field. He ran in the house, mad as hell at me. I pointed over to the old chair Lady had for herself in the living room and he knew. She was still alive, she lived for a couple of hours after he got home. She licked his hands, his face, and he held her. I didn’t have much to do, so I pulled out some knitting (baby blanket for Sharon’s first) and sat on the porch. I went back inside to put on a pot of coffee, and she was gone. I helped Charles wrap her up in an old blanket, we laid her out in the garden back where the tall flowers grew, hollyhocks and rockets and costas, and read prayers over her as the sun set. After that, he just let me be.
“I don’t really think there’s anything I feel passionate about right now.” – Lust
Alternate News Flash: Skirts Uprising!
“I’m curious as to the aversion behind that.” -- GM, as Lust rationalizes not dealing with her anchor’s dead body.
“That’s where I hang my hat.” -- Death, on a tumescent statue in the center of the chancel.
“Oh, by the way, I have you, and when you feel it, it was me.” – Lust, to scorn.
“You could hear a butterfly masturbating in Barbados.” --GM, on Lust’s aspecty ears.
“She’s listening to him now.” --De
“Butterfly lust.” --Randy.
“It appears to be spreading.” -- GM.
“Heh. The whores are spreading.” --Lee.
“Actually, factually, that’s what happened.” --GM
“So, you’re the Duke of Death.” –GM
“The first person who says duck of death dies.” --Lee
“Duck of death! Duck of death!” – De
“You die.” – Lee
“Quack, quack, quack.” --De
“I like playing scorn. He’s fun.” --GM
“He’s going to be half as drunk as normal.” --GM, on Hank losing a hand.
“Yeah, but he’s going to be twice as horny.” –De.
(If Lust decided she wanted Donner:)
“Donner would run screaming. Unfortunately, Lust would catch him.” --Randy.
“You know you’re having a bad day when the doublemint twins are trying to kill you.” –GM
“He can withstand your weak powers.” --Lust
“What about your monthly powers? Are you menstrual?” --Death
STRUMPETS ON STRIKE!
Thousands of immigrant trollops refused to walk the streets today in Storyville. No firm reasons on why the call girls, harlots, and concubines refused to ply their trade have been heard; however, rumors of a tragic death have been spreading quickly. Town officials are concerned about the whores’ effect on the upcoming festival. “Our strong economy just might go limp,” said Brian St. James, local business owner and crewe member. “I mean, how many people are going to want to party down if there aren’t going to be titties?”
HIGH-LEVEL TALKS RESULT IN “MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING”
Lord Death and Lord Meon met today in the former First Castle chancel, an appropriate location for the tense negotiations that were to play out between the two powerful Nobles. The discussion started out with an “apology” from Lord Death for causing Lord Meon to lose face during their recent confrontation in the past. Meon, whose face did indeed seem to have lost some of its usual vigor, retorted that he, too, was sorry that he had to find out about Lord Death’s deal with some rather unsavory characters. Lord Death complied with the two particulars of Lord Meon’s offered deal: he would present Lord Meon with his servant’s left hand and the name and location of one of Dame Reality’s anchors. According to reports, Lord Death has agreed to the deal.
FOURTH AGE STAR CHAMBER?
You’ll never guess what a little fly on the wall told me! The Imperator Ananda and his familia (excepting the unnamed and mysterious new lord of the Fourth Age) met with Lord Donner of the Storyville chancel today for coffee and cakes. Ananda heaped praise on Lord Donnor for his chancel’s recent efforts against a few naughty Excrucians—one would almost think there was a criticism against Lord Entropy’s punishment of them hidden in there! After Ananda left (had to wash his “heir,” apparently!), the rest of the familia dug into the real purpose of their little soiree, which was a scandalous little exchange of favors. The familia would keep Baal-harmon off Lord Donner’s back if he found a way to fix the upcoming fight between Ada Willamette and the Lady of Festivals. Hm. I have to wonder if they’re more worried about the weapon she carries or the bets they’ve made.
CNN CAPTURES PEACE IN THE MIDDLE EAST
Today in the Middle East, you couldn’t have found a more touching moment if you paid for it. It’s the heartwarming story of three people from three warring cultures. Yesterday, Abassi was a former Egyptian soldier, Shifra was an Isreli woman with a fondness for chocolate, and Pelkus was a local Palestinian orphan. Today, they are friends. During a suicide bombing of an oddly empty passenger bus in the West Gaza strip, young Pelkus was injured with flying shrapnel. Moved by pity, Abassi ran into the street and began to carry the boy to safety before he was wounded by rebel gunfire. Barely mobile, he and the young Palestinian boy were escorted by Shifra, who had been involved in the ensuring gunbattle as a member of the Israeli armed forces. Their escape from the battleground, captured by both television and newspaper cameras, has captured the hearts and minds of the warring peoples of this war-torn region.
…
In related news, Lord Joktan is rumored to have been nettled by Lady Lust, who has herself suffered a recent tragedy in the loss of her Chief Whoring Officer, Jessica Jones. The cause of Ms. Jones death is unknown.
STRANGE BEAST HAUNTS HISTORIC SITE
Recently, local anchors and nobles have reported seeing strange apparitions on the San Francisco horizon near the former federal prison of Alcatraz. While most of the mortals haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, others “in the know” agree that “something new has moved in.” “The island’s like a corpse that’s been infested with bugs. Really big bugs,” says Enrique Lopez, owner of the Herb Shoppe. Little did he know how close he was to the truth. Alcatraz was built on the corpse of an unnamed angel fallen in the war against the Excrucians.
The angel had been attacked and driven into the ocean using a monstrous weapon, which remained somnolently embedded in the corpse until recently. An anonymous source reports that a battle between one of the Storyville nobles, Dame Reality, and one of the more notorious strategists, Iaziz, occurred there recently. While the outcome of the fight is unknown, it was rumored that one of the noble’s anchors was wounded and that Lord Meon arrived to assist Dame Reality in defeating the strategist’s plans.
1. Seed. (Hank)
Even when you can’t remember their names—even when you can’t remember
your own name—you can tell you’ve fucked a woman. There was one
sitting across from me in the booth. I’d fucked her. She’d liked me
for some reason. I don’t remember what it was. I took a piss and left
to look for a Greyhound. Her face hadn’t changed, her eyes hadn’t
followed me out the door. That’s something else you can tell. I don’t
remember if I was supposed to do anything else.
2. Earth. (June’s present)
When you travel, you’re a traveler. Not an American, not a German, not
a Japanese. Especially kids: they’re all bored, except when they have
a hundred questions to pester you with. Iaziz isn’t a traveler, he’s
got too much purpose in his bones. He doesn’t go to be going, to goes
to be about his business.
The travelers on his ferry all raised their cameras to take a picture
of Alcatraz. He turned to see what the noise was just as the flashes
went off. Forty-eight silver memories of him to tell the grandchildren
about—“If you look close—here—it almost looks like that buttonhole is
winking at you, don’t it, son?”
As for Jonathan, he’d be no good to me dead, so I turned him into a bit
of the rock wall that had crumbled (he filled up the hole nicely) and
left him for the seagulls to poop on.
3. Mulch. (June’s mortal past)
I had some of Saturday’s potato salad in a Tupperware box, three white
bread, butter, and bologna sandwiches, and a thermos of coffee. He
didn’t like me to drive the truck, but it was too far to walk so he
told me to go on and drive it out. I stayed in second gear all the way
out to the fields. I ran over a snake but it was already dead.
Charles had stopped the tractor and got out. He was talking to a man I
didn’t recognize. I didn’t have enough for both of them, I’d have to
invite them back to the house, and all three of us to ride in the cab
of that truck, me in the middle. The house was spotless, but it
wouldn’t be when Charles looked at it.
All of a sudden, Charles fell. I ran, I dropped it all and I heart the
glass in the thermos shatter. I couldn’t see the stranger anymore. I
could hear the bugs and the grass. I could smell the grime on the
tractor, it seemed like from miles away.
Charles lay in the grass. I couldn’t pick him up or move him. I ran
back to the truck and found the old tarp in the back. I held it over
his head and arms until he woke up. He blisters when he’s out too long
in the sun.
4. Blossom. (June’s present)
My feet led me where I should go. Down. Down, down, down. Iaziz and
the tourists climbed out of the ferry and onto the island. The Count
of Monte Cristo. I read that as a girl. What was the name of that
prison he was on? I can’t swim real well, if it comes down to it.
And then there it was. A shiny Venus flytrap mouth on a stick. The
pet.
I squatted down on the ground beside it and reached into my purse--