“Holy shee-ot,” Zorro added as he came to and got back to his feet. “That's a lot of hay.” He gave a low whistle. “Where did you people get that kind of money for a community theatre? What kind of high falootin’ investor do you Shifters have?”
Bob leaned in and his eyes grew huge. “Cats,” he whispered. He farted, and the magical berry gas gagged us all.
Quickly, everyone put on their nose plugs. Bob grimaced in apology.
“Your investors are cats?” I asked a bit nasally since my nose was now plugged. I wasn't positive I’d heard him correctly.
“Not exactly, but the wise guy cats represent our super-secret investor. We have no clue who the money man actually is,” Roger said, glancing around warily. “But from what we understand, he wants a return on his investment, or we’ll be put in cement shoes and thrown in the Assjacket river.”
Zach’s eyes narrowed. I could tell he was trying not to laugh. “Names. Give me the names of the wise guy cats.”
Again, Roger glanced around. Bob removed the last two strands of his unibrow. He looked to Roger who gave him a curt nod.
“Fat Bastard, Jango Fett and Boba Fett,” Bob revealed with a gulp.
It was my turn to try not to laugh. How on the Goddess's green earth did Zelda’s cats get involved with someone who had that kind of money?
“My sister’s familiars are the wise guy cats representing your illustrious investor?” Zach asked, squinting at Roger and Bob in amusement.
Sassy smacked her forehead and giggled. “I can’t believe it, but I have an excellent idea,” she announced. “I’ll wax the cats and get the name of the investor.”
“Or,” I suggested quickly before anyone agreed to her awful plan. “I can ask them. They owe me a favor for de-stinking them. We should start at the point of least destruction and retribution.”
Sassy cocked her head to the side in curiosity. “Was that German?”
“Umm… yes,” I said to save time.
There was no way I was going to grunt on stage naked then go through a grisly death. It was also abundantly clear that it would be devastating for Bob and Roger to lose their reputation in the community theatre world and possibly their lives to the investor. But Mae Blockinschlokinberg had to go. We’d work the rest out later.
The cats did owe me a favor, and it would be a good way to use it. Maybe, I could get the hairy feline boys to give me the name of the investor. Maybe, the investor would listen to reason or at the very least, accept a payment plan. If we pooled our money together, and I found a teaching job, we could make it work. Saving people’s lives and avoiding public humiliation was a fine plan. Worst case scenario, we performed the nightmare-inducing play minus the director.
“It might be dangerous,” Bob said to me.
“It will be fine,” I promised, hoping I was right.
Roger nodded his agreement. “Willow has big balls. And I’d like to offer up a few free therapy sessions as a gift to you.”
I was thrilled that so many people thought I had hairy magical beans. I knew they were incorrect, but it was encouraging. And Roger’s offer had come at the perfect time.
“Would you be willing to do couples therapy?” I asked, glancing over at Zach who gave me a thumbs up.
“Absolu-tree,” Roger said with a wink. “I know a little Puntreelish!”
Bob glanced back at Mae Blockinschlokinberg and squeaked in terror. “Okay, we need to make a move. It looks like that woman wants to eat all of us. Who’s going to do it?”
“I’d be overjoyed to fire her,” Zach insisted much to the relief of Roger and Bob. “Nothing would give me more pleasure.”
“Will she retaliate?” I asked, wondering how the nasty little woman would react.
“She’s got her money,” Bob said, sounding worried about the prospect of a counterattack by the abomination. “There’s no breach in contract. We have fulfilled our end.”
“Now, we just have to worry about the investor,” Roger said, paling considerably and looking like he might join Zorro’s club and faint.
I wasn’t sure if it was Bob’s gas or the thought of cement shoes. Possibly both.
This town was wonderful in every odd and strange little way. I loved it here. Now, all we had to do was fire Mae Blockinschlokinberg and cut a deal with the investor so no one died and it would be perfect.
“We ready?” Zach asked with a wide grin.
“Yep,” I said, taking in the relieved and terrified nods of the group.
“Hey, Mae Blockinschlokinberg,” Zach said, walking to the edge of the stage. “You’re fired.”
Mae Blockinschlokinberg turned purple and began to hiss furiously. Her minions dropped to the ground and began throwing tantrums that would have made a two-year-old hopped up on ten pounds of sugar proud. It was disturbing and bizarre. Mae Blockinschlokinberg waved her hands and a foul scented gray wind blew through the room. I winced and gagged. It was so putrid I could smell it even through the nose plug.
“What did you say, you worthless piece of crap?” she bellowed at Zach as a slimy film covered her face and dripped off of her beige unibrow.
“Umm… she’s not taking it very well,” Sassy said, waving her hand in front of her nose frantically. “I think she might have eaten an assload of Bob's magical stank berries.”
“You’re fired,” Zach repeated with a grin on his face.
“I do NOT accept,” she shrieked. “No one has ever fired me and no one ever will who wants to live to tell.”
“There’s a first time for everything, lady—and I use the term lightly,” I said, doing my best to stay diplomatic even though all I wanted to do was blast the awful woman and her posse right out of Assjacket. I wasn’t letting Zach take all the heat, even though he seemed to be enjoying it.
“I have an iron-clad contract. I am un-terminatable,” she
