“I drink red wine with salmon,” I hissed. “She’s way behind.”
“You got that right,” Sassy agreed. “I drink red wine with peanut butter and jelly. It’s awesome.”
Bob was crushed. Mae Blockinschlokinberg was on a vicious roll.
“Southern accents are rubbish. I went through the entire script and corrected and reported all the upsetting vernacular,” she said with a delighted sneer. “You’ll receive a quality notice on Cramanon due to my superior knowledge of grammar. You might even lose your publishing privileges.”
“I hate her so bad,” Sassy grumbled. “Who does she think she is? Bob wrote an amazing script when they did the musical version of Silence of the Lambs. Sadly, it was before I lived in Assjacket. I would have been incredible in that show. Rumor has it that several audience members got kind of eaten and the Fava Bean number was lewd, but everyone says it was really good. Bob takes his playwriting very seriously.”
“Are you serious?” I choked out. “How do people get kind of eaten?”
“Oh, you know,” Sassy said with a shrug. “An arm, a leg—it all worked out because they were Shifters. Stuff grows back. So, it’s clear how amazeballs Bob is, which really makes me want to smite that swollen dung humper right out of town.”
“She’s quite hate-able,” Zach agreed. He wiggled his fingers as Mae Blockinschlokinberg walked back to the center of the stage. “Has the old bag ever even written a play?”
“My guess would be no,” I said, watching the stage to see what magic Zach had done. “What did you do?”
“Wait for it,” Zach said with a grin.
Bob raised his hand to speak. “I don’t understand why you would do this. The play takes place in the South per your request. It’s how we speak,” Bob said in a shaky voice. “I could be ruined. My playwriting career could be over. Why would you try to ruin me?”
Mae Blockinschlokinberg laughed like a maniac and pointed a boney finger at Bob. “Because I can,” she shouted and stamped her foot.
The stage caved in with a crash, and she fell right through it. It wasn’t a huge fall, but it was fabulously loud and humiliating. She deserved much worse. Her little minions screamed in horror, yet made no move to save her. However, they did take a few pictures. So much for the trolls having her back.
“Bingo.” Zach grinned.
“I like it.” Sassy gave him a thumbs up. “Should we blow her up now?”
“Nope,” Zach said. “Small annoyances will drive her crazy. Stay subtle, Sassy.”
“Got it,” she said, waving her hand. Mae Blockinschlokinberg was now bald… and pissed.
“Umm… that wasn’t exactly subtle,” I said with a giggle.
“Shit. Is subtle a Canadian word?” Sassy asked. “I thought it was the Mid-western word for hairless.”
“No, it actually means understated,” I told her.
“I don’t speak Russian,” she said in all seriousness.
“Mmkay… subtle means unnoticeable or tiny. Itty bitty magic,” I explained.
“Balls, my bad,” Sassy said, waving her hand and giving Mae Blockinschlokinberg her hair back with a little bit extra.
Mae Blockinschlokinberg now had a bushy unibrow that rivaled Bob's before he'd plucked all the hairs out. It was incredibly disturbing since Sassy had matched it perfectly to her nasty beige sandals.
“Subtle, huh?” Sassy asked with a wicked grin.
“Very,” I lied with a laugh.
Roger the rabbit screamed like a little girl and began choking… or laughing. I couldn't be sure.
Bob ran to the nightmare and pulled her out of the hole.
“I’m so sorry. We’ll have the stage reinforced immediately,” he whimpered. His eyes grew huge when he spotted Mae Blockinschlokinberg’s new beige unibrow. He glanced wildly around the room, and Sassy waved at him like a dummy.
Grabbing Sassy’s arm, I yanked it down. “That’s not subtle,” I told her.
“Crap,” she said, shaking her head. “Itty bitty magic is hard.”
“See that you fix the stage, you worthless beaver,” Mae Blockinschlokinberg snarled and then continued her diatribe of mean. “I also reported you for a missing quotation mark, an absentee comma and using the word to with one O instead of two. Completely ruined my reading experience.”
I barely knew any of these people, but they seemed kind and didn’t deserve this foul treatment. No one deserved Mae Blockinschlokinberg's toxic assault.
“Enough,” I said, standing up and walking toward the stage. “This behavior is unacceptable.”
“Agreed,” Zach growled, coming up right next to me.
“Hell to the yes!” Sassy yelled as she pulled a broom out from underneath her chair and began to fly around the hall.
I hoped she was wearing panties, but there were more important things to deal with at the moment.
“You dare to backtalk me?” Mae Blockinschlokinberg snapped, eyeing Zach and me with great interest.
Her little group of losers pointed at us and whispered frantically—snapping pictures a mile a minute. It seemed as if old Mae Blockinschlokinberg wasn’t fond of being called out and her little ladies didn’t like it either.
“Yep, and I won’t sit and watch nice people get treated so horribly,” I said, staring right back at the nasty little woman. I’d had more than enough of her attitude. I also had some money in the bank—not a lot because dryads didn’t need much, but hopefully enough to cover a community theatre budget in Assjacket, West Virginia and keep it from being shut down by the heinous hack.
“I’ll stop your abuse if necessary,” Zach told her, his tone icy.
“And I’m a member of the Fashion Police. You are in huge fucking trouble, Mae Blockinschlokinberg,” Sassy yelled.
“Excellent!” the nasty woman shouted, making everyone in the room jump. She glanced over at her minions who nodded spastically. “You're all cast. Your balls are just what this play needs. Good work, beaver. I didn’t think you had it in you. Congratulations.”
“What?” Bob asked, wildly confused.
“I’ll be back at four,” Mae Blockinschlokinberg announced. “I expect everyone to know their lines
