Part 2 of The Bookkeeper of the Grim, Hideous Ticket, A terrible minds challenge!

A wayfarer waited at the docks for Death. No escape from her reality, she was a smuggler of the worst sort to be found on the brimstone highways.

Just in front of her stood Mene, resplendent in mustache – a thirty decade indulgence – and black eyeliner. Sinful and kind, he only promised no deceit for those who asked to touch him, fascinated with the willowy strands of gold threaded above the black hair that delicately framed his face and feathered down strong shoulders. With angular features and an overbite, he was not conventionally handsome. Yet even on such tumultuous shores, he captivated the travelers come to meet loved ones, making them forget temporarily whom they sought to drag to hell or lead to heaven. Easy come, easy go, he blew in with the wind and out just as fast, perplexing and titillating, an instant best friend, killer queen, and naughty nanny of purgatory. No matter the destination, he enticed all and refused few the sweetness of his voice and the temptation in the kink of his smile.

Today was different, however. On the shores of the Styx in a feathered white robe and black spandex jumpsuit, every ounce the impish pagan god, Mene’s mercurial nature was subdued.

If the wayfarer hadn’t known better she almost would have sworn he was…worried. She smirked and stepped up into his peripheral vision. “Lost your BFF, have you?”

Mene glanced in her direction. Hate dropped into his eyes and his entertaining smile dimmed. He nodded at someone addressing him, then asked flatly, “How long has he been gone?”

“I stopped keeping tabs on him twenty years ago.”

“Still quite the little cunt, aren’t you? Who are you waiting on, then? Gandhi?”

“I was just leaving, love,” she said sweetly, then punched him square in the jaw. “Goodbye.”

Mene, unsurprised, rubbed his jaw and followed her with his eyes. If she was up to something her eyes would be darting around, paranoid. Then just when she couldn’t stand it anymore, she’d turn and cast a look-

He snarled. Of course, she was up to something. It’s not possible to play princess in Hell and keep clean hands. He shot through the crowd like thunderbolts and lightening. They spun away frightened.

“Calla Lilly, what have you done?” Mene grabbed her arm.

“Magnifico,” she spat and knocked him back, “Fine, he’s the poor one, the one most unfortunate, right? Spare him from this monstrosity of fate! Spare him! You think you’re the only one who wants to break free?”

“I asked for it. You were banned from it. He never so much feigned interest in it, and you bloody well know it!”

“You foul, loathsome spineless creature, at least I made the choice! I stood amongst gods and devils and demanded –“

“-your brother live and lie for you to get out of Hell, and now you’re the taint of the underworld, somewhere between an arse and a right, sopping cunt. You don’t get to pat yourself on the back for any fucking thing.” He stumbled forward as the ground shifted. Sweat spilled over his forehead. “Whatever you have pulled now, stop it or I will hang your soul in Tartarus myself.”

“Ah, but brother, the show must go on. The terror of knowing what this hell is, watching your sister screaming ‘let me out’, and turning away from it all like a blind man, you think that makes you noble? It only makes you blind to what was already in front of you. If you won’t help me, I’ll make big noise playing bloody and dirty on my own.”

“D’you mind telling me what the bloody hell gives you the right to demand anything? Do you know how many thousands of souls are waiting to come here from the last hour alone?”

“I did what I had to do, and I’m not going to apologize for that to anybody, not to him or to-” Her eyes widened briefly and she stopped talking.

Too late.

Mene noticed and pounced, “Her, who? Kismet?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t think I asked your preference regarding participation in this discussion. What did you do to Kismet?”

“One dream, one soul, one prize, one goal, one golden glance, one fucking chance and I took it. That was the deal, her into hell for the highest bidder and I’d be free.” She stuck out her chin.

“Bloody hell. Cali, you told someone who’s known only the monotony of death to give up the one child he had to the eternity of its shores. What man, no, what father would want that for his daughter?”

She scoffed, “He’s no man.”

Mene slapped her brutally across the face, “You, he was with you. And because he refused and gave her a life on earth, you did this? You had your daughter murdered to smuggle into hell and expected to get her past her father, the fucking ferryman, all because you’re miffed you can’t go on an outing?“

A swell of voices interrupted them.

Mene turned. The river ballooned, sucking up people and building to a head.

Above the mountain of the doomed hovered a sphere. Those not caught by its gravity scrambled away and watched it engorge in horror. The souls writhing beneath it were stripped from their bodies, trailing to the sphere in a wisp, their forms left burned into clay effigies.

When the last soul was left, the sphere quivered. The mountain rumbled. Survivors on the shores fell back further. Then the last soul let go. The mountain imploded and an atomic boom billowed across the river.

Bodies layered atop each other in a hollowed out canyon of the dead, hands reaching out, covering up and pushing away from loved ones, their disfigured faces bearing the terror of the moment forever.

“His wrath,” Mene pointed to the dead monument, “but not your funeral. No, you’ll bleed and scream and crawl…forever.”

http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2013/08/23/flash-fiction-challenge-another-ten-words/

They had the technology

 

Image

Since I created a new blog, I decided to start with the one people still mention to this day. The “incident” happened in 2009, which means I’ve known some of y’all wayyy too long to be a good thing. Now that this “incident” is firmly in the past, my husband feels he can laugh uproariously at it. At the time, he did not find it so funny (especially when it had 1500 views on Myspace). That opinion has changed, probably because he realized I was 1500 times more embarassed at the actual hospital where people could see my beet red face and my, ‘Oh God, Did I really just yell that?’ expression. He, however, had the comfort of being too drugged up to remember and too absent on Myspace for anybody to recognize in public.

2009 – My husband had a medical procedure done yesterday. He was roto-rooted. Once it was done, they called me in to the recovery area and I sat there waiting for him to be wheeled out.
I’m beginning to think they let family go back while people are still under anesthesia because they get a fucking kick out of it.
When I am under anesthesia, I am one pissed off Texas midget. I have a foul mouth and even worse temperament.
Unfortunately, I didn’t know this until I had my wisdom teeth out and cussed/bitched so much that they allowed my mother to take me home way before they normally do.
In my defense, though, they left my face smeared with blood after the procedure, and I was apparently mad they would not wipe it off. I
Anyways, people have some of the most amusing reactions under anesthesia. My grandfather, Poppa Joe, would speak Spanish, even though he didn’t speak a word of it, normally. He’d also try to talk dirty in Spanish. I don’t know how that would sound, but maybe something like ’Yo needo tu vagin-o’, since most people think they can speak Spanish by putting an O on the end of every word.
My father will fart a lot and mutter, ’That ain’t right.’ Pffffrreeeitttt. ’Oh, hell, that ain’t right, either.’
My husband does something different. Marriage is an adventure, folks.
When they wheeled him in, he looks up at me and smiles. “Hi, hi, hi, baby. I’m so glad you’re here. I wouldn’t want anybody else here.” He says, barely mushing his words together.
“Well, I’m glad, because I’d be a little pissed, otherwise.” I respond, taking a seat next to the bed on a stool. I fluff his hair away from his face and kiss his forehead.
“I love you. I know I probably don’t tell you that as much as you deserve to hear it, but I do love you.” He says, earnestly. The look on his face is so sappy I am almost shocked, then I remember how deep he is in anesthesia-land.
Chuckling, I told him I loved him, too.
A conspiratorial gleam dove into his eyes, and he tried to whisper, in one of those more-loud-than-whisper voices, “Can we do the nasty when we get home? Tonight?”
Closing my eyes for a second and shaking my head, I glanced up at the ceiling and then back to him, “Yes, we can do the nasty tonight. Shhh.”
“Good. I don’t even care that you have a hairy pussy, right now. I want to do it all.”
SMACK went my hand over his mouth, or he would have continued regaling the nurses with vivid descriptions of my furbox.
Hey, shoot me. My period made a visit after a seven-month absence, I can damn well skip shaving if I fucking want to. It’s my prerogative..
I am now trying to withhold the laughter bubbling in my chest, while deciding whether or not I want to kill him. With all the nurses about, I figure this would be the best place to do it. He’d only be dead a minute, tops, I’m thinking. I mean, they had the technology. They could revive him.
“We could do something with your coochie hair. Braid it, or something.” He jokes, so proud of himself.
“My vagina hair is not long enough for corn rows, damnit!” Yes, I retorted this with a lot of volume, judging by the four amused faces that swung around to look at us.
I cleared my throat, shrugged my shoulders, and used the little pull curtain to give us the illusion of a room.
Bad idea.
“Are we going to do it, now?” He asks, anxiously and completely stoned.
I shoved his back down onto the bed. “If you don’t shutup, baby, I’m taking your clothes and leaving your ass here. And if you mention my un-groomed genitals one more time, I will never shave it, again. Comprende?”
“Okay,” he whispers, in his five-foot voice. “You wanna do it in the hospital? I’m already naked. You’re so hot. You look so pretty. In a few minutes I could be balls deep-”
I cover his mouth for a second time, “Baby, there’s a twelve year old girl standing by her dad next to us. Can you stop expanding her vocabulary?”
Then he started on his I’m going to make you rich one day-rant.
“-because I want to know you’re always taken care of.”
I was relieved he’d switched subjects.
“That’s great and all, baby, but I’d kind of like you to be there, too.”
“The doctor was nice. He was kind of like a Kentucky Money Mike. Are you sure we can’t do the nasty right now?”
STOP! Pillow time!
I’d fully expected to blog this up last night, and then go make hours of happy whoopee with my man of choice, but man of choice got on the computer.
So, I put on a tight shirt with no bra.
Man of choice stared and stayed on the computer.
Woman of rage flashed him boobies as a last resort.
Man of choice said ‘Sweet.’ and stayed on the computer.
“Fine. Fuck it. I’ve had my boobies jiggling all day for you, and you won’t get off the computer to make them jiggle horizontally. I’m eating a pickle, exercising, and going to bed.”
“Hey, I noticed the boobies-”
“Yeah, that’s your problem. You noticed them, you didn’t play with them.”
“Five minutes!”
“Honey, you had five minutes when I put the top on. I think me and my hairy vagina might masturbate, too. You should have RSVP’ed when you got the invite.”
“You suck.”
“I would have…”

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