“On it,” I said, dancing away from losing one of the lives I had left. “Hey, youse!”
Fucking Derrick glanced up from his tantrum and glared at me.
“Yeah, youse,” I said, pointing a sharp claw at him. “Where’d youse get dem gauchos? 1980 called and wants dem fugly pants back.”
“Nice,” Boba said as he back flipped out of the way of a double fireball.
We were in trouble here. Half of me was tempted to let the shit nail me with a fireball so it would eighty-six his psycho little ass, but as much fun as that would be, it would also be stupid. I was many things, but in battle, I wasn’t stupid.
“Keep goin’,” Jango said, rolling like a fat furry ball to steer clear of the flames.
“Hey Fuckin’ Derrick,” I yelled. “Youse are so ugly, I heard youse didn’t get hit with the ugly stick… I heard youse got walloped with the whole f-in’ tree.”
The troll roared. It sounded like a ten-year-old girl at a Justin Bieber concert. The insult worked. However, in hindsight, it was far more pleasant not to know what the jackoff was saying.
“There’s a tree stump in my ass that has a higher IQ than you,” he snapped in a voice that sounded like he’d swallowed a vat of helium. He also flipped me off.
“Dat’s gotta hurt—havin’ a tree lodged in your sphincter,” I shot right back. “And if I was as ugly as youse, I’d shave my ass and walk backwards.”
“Really?” the troll shrieked.
“Yep,” I replied, staying on my toes so I could move quickly. For a fat cat, I moved fast.
Fucking Derrick stood up with a nasty look on his mug and slapped his tiny hands on his gaucho covered hips. “Well, you’re so fat, even Dora can’t explore you.”
“Burn,” Boba said with a chuckle. “The mini bunghole biter has some zingers.”
I grinned.
Fucking Derrick grinned.
It wasn’t pretty, but it was a good sign that he’d stop trying to kill us. I kept going.
“Dat was smooth, Fuckin’ Derrick,” I complimented him. “But when youse entered the Ugly Contest, they said professionals weren’t allowed.”
The troll raised a bushy eyebrow. I wasn’t sure if it was a sign of appreciation or if he was going to double down on trying to bump me off.
“Yeah, well, you have more rolls than a bakery,” he grumbled.
“Dat may be true,” I said with a shrug. “But when youse went through the haunted house at Halloween, youse came out with a job application.”
“Maybe,” Fucking Derrick conceded, getting into it. “When you got on the scale, it said it needed your weight, not your phone number.”
The troll was good.
“At least I’m not so ugly dat I scare the shit out of the toilet,” I countered.
He paused and thought that one through. Dropping into a squat, I motioned everyone to get behind me. There was no telling what the troll would do.
“I might borrow that one,” he said. “Do you mind? It was outstanding.”
My mouth hung open for a brief moment. The rules had just turned on a dime. Now, I just had to turn the insult game into an intel game.
“Be my guest,” I told him. “Youse wanna keep goin’?”
“Absolutely,” Fucking Derrick said, rubbing his tiny hands together. “Are you ready to graduate to stupid?”
I nodded and gave the insane freak a thumbs up. I could do stupid any day of the week.
F-in’ Derrick let it rip. “You’re so stupid you brought a spoon to the Super Bowl.”
“Dat’s nothin’,” I told him. “Youse are so stupid, youse tried to schedule your yearly physical with Dr. Pepper.”
The troll grinned. His little teeth were as sharp as hell. “You’re so stupid, you took a ruler to bed to see how long you slept.”
“Stealin’ dat one,” I said. “Youse are a worthy opponent. However, youse are also so stupid dat youse stuck a phone up your ass and thought youse was makin’ a booty call.”
Fucking Derrick froze. His eyes filled and his beard-covered chin fell to his tiny chest.
WTF?
“I think youse made him cry,” Boba whispered.
I felt awful. He was such a tiny little dude. I mean, he was a fucking insane asshole, but I wasn’t trying to make him cry.
“I didn’t think dat one was dat bad,” I said to my boys. “Did youse?”
Jango shook his head. “I didn’t think dat was bad at all. Maybe Fuckin’ Derrick has never gotten any booty.”
I nodded. “Dat’s a possibility. He’s ugly as fuck. Now I feel really bad.”
Fucking Derrick had advanced to sobbing. It was pathetic. It was all fun and games until a phone gets lodged in the booty then everything falls apart.
“What am I supposed to do now?” I asked, unsure how to handle the bizarre situation.
“Apologize,” Poutine said.
“Seriously?” I asked, glancing over at my dame.
She shrugged. “Can’t hurt.”
Here went nothing. “Hey, umm… Fuckin’ Derrick, youse okay?”
The troll continued to cry. Shit.
“Well, youse know… I was just joshin’ youse, right? I mean, youse already said youse had a stump in your ass, so, naturally I thought havin’ a phone up your ass wouldn’t be a biggie. Maybe a phone and a stump in your ass is just too much to have in your ass. I didn’t think about it like dat. If I had, I would have gone with the line, youse are so stupid, youse climbed a glass wall to see what was on the other side.”
“That woulda been better,” Fucking Derrick said through his tears. “Less invasive.”
“Got it,” I told him. “I’ll be more careful with how much an ass can hold in the future. Dis was a good lesson for me. Sorry about dat.”
“You are?” he asked. “Truly sorry?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Youse are an asshole and youse tried to kill us and all, but youse don’t deserve to cry. I feel real bad about dat.”
“Apology accepted,” the troll said, still sniffling.
Poutine grabbed my paw and gave it a squeeze. I felt on top of the world. My dame was proud of me. I was kind of proud too. I was on
