“Umm… nope,” I said with a wince and a pained laugh. “I’ll go on record and say the douche didn’t work.”
“I’m gonna have to get the jackholes waxed,” she muttered. “It’s about to get ugly here. Last time Sassy waxed my cats there was hell to pay. But that should teach the ball-licking freaks not to try to bang skunks ever again.”
“One would hope,” I said, wishing I could stay in this crazy place. As strange as it was, it was clearly filled with love and bizarre—albeit stinky—shenanigans.
“You want a nose plug?” Zelda offered. “I keep them around for when Bob the beaver Shifter eats magical berries.”
I wasn’t going to touch that one.
Shaking my head, no, I swallowed my laugh. “I’m good. I’ll get used to it, I’m sure.”
“Don’t be too sure. It’s freaking awful,” she said with a grunt of disgust as she yanked me up the stairs to the front porch. “Zorro is going to faint when he sees you.”
“To be expected,” I said with a wide smile. “He is a fainting goat Shifter.”
“And a very snazzy dresser,” Zelda added as she opened the front door and pushed me through.
I’d stay for a bit to be polite. Zelda had saved my life, and I needed to show my appreciation. I’d meet her babies, eat a messy sandwich, say hello to Zorro, and then I’d say goodbye to Zach. It would be the closure I needed to move on.
“Well, hell’s bells,” Zelda said, looking around, perplexed. “Where is everyone?”
The massive great room was empty. It was also warm and inviting—all exposed beams, earthy colors and clean lines. Toys and stuffed animals littered the floor and tons of natural light illuminated the lovely area. The house had a real sense of joy.
“Sit,” Zelda directed as she pointed to the couch. “I’ll find Zorro and the kids.”
She moved to leave and then turned back quickly. “You won’t make a run for it when I’m gone?”
The witch had my number, but I wasn’t going to be a coward. “I’ll stay for a little while. I promise.”
“That’s what I said when I got to Assjacket,” she muttered as she left the room.
I had no clue what she was talking about, but figuring out Zelda could take decades. For now, I’d simply do as asked. A few hours wouldn’t matter anyway. It could take me years to find my metaphorical gonads.
Feeling a little lightheaded about facing Zach, I leaned back on the couch and closed my eyes. I really did want the very best for him. I loved him, but he could never know. He’d lived a hell on earth for his entire existence. His new life should be guilt-free.
“Psssst,” came a voice from underneath the couch. “Youse alone, hot pants?”
Gasping in surprise, I pinched my nose shut as a waft of skunk butt aroma wafted through the room. I tried not to gag. “Yes, I’m alone. Is that you, Fat Bastard?”
“Youse bet yer fine patooty it is,” he grunted as he shimmied out from under the couch with immense effort.
Boba Fett and Jango Fett followed with as much difficulty as their buddy. The cats had enormous bellies and bottoms. And they reeked like nothing I’d ever encountered. Fat Bastard glanced around warily and moved in closer. I truly adored Zelda’s familiars, just not right this minute. It was all I could do not to hurl. Breathing through my mouth so I didn’t pass out, I smiled at the cats. I was sure it wasn’t one of my best smiles, but I was making an effort.
“Do youse happen to have any douche on youse?” Fat Bastard asked.
“Umm… no,” I told him with a choked laugh. “I don’t usually carry douche.”
“Shit don’t work anyway,” Boba Fett announced, falling back onto his bottom and lifting his hind kitty leg high in the air.
I turned my head away politely as he went to town on his odoriferous jewels.
“Hows about baking soda, peroxide and fish soap?” Jango Fett questioned.
“You mean dish soap?” I asked.
Jango shrugged his furry shoulders. “Youse say dish soap. I says fish soap. Same shit, different name. Youse got any? We’d be willin’ to cut a deal for it.”
“Nope, no douche or fish soap,” I said, getting an idea. I’d never actually tried de-stinking cats, but I’d always been excellent at bringing back peace and harmony to forests and wildlife after natural disasters. The cats definitely qualified as natural disasters. “Would you guys mind if I took a crack at cleaning you up?”
“Youse wanna clean our cracks?” Fat Bastard looked wildly intrigued.
“I’d be into dat,” Boba said, lifting his head from his socially unacceptable habit.
“My crack could use a good lickin’,” Jango added, winking at me.
“Umm… no. Absolutely not. Never. I really don’t want anything to do with your cracks,” I said, shaking my head. “I was thinking more along the lines of removing the odor.”
“From our cracks?” Fat Bastard asked, still not with the program.
“Well, I suppose your cracks would benefit,” I conceded. “I think it might be less painful than getting waxed.”
“Mother humpin’ turd nuggets,” Fat Bastard hissed. “Is dat the plan?”
“It’s on the list of possibilities,” I said, still pinching my nose so I didn’t accidentally breathe through it. “If the three of you would line up, I can cast a little spell and it might solve the problem.”
“Youse want our cracks facin’ youse?” Boba asked as he waddled over.
“Definitely not,” I told him. “Keep your cracks facing the other way.”
“Don’t see how youse is gonna lick our cracks if youse can’t see our cracks,” Jango muttered as he followed my directions.
“Is dis gonna hurt?” Fat Bastard inquired. “I like a good spankin’ now and then, but dats as far as I go.”
“I don’t mind gettin’ tied up and light floggin’,” Jango informed me.
“Youse can spank me any day of de week,” Boba overshared.
“Mmkay, all of that was TMI,” I told them. “And no, it won’t hurt
