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Authors: Susan Stec
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eyes with the critter so she could try to mind-push it, but it was being obvious about avoiding her gaze. The raccoon scurried across the grass and under the Suburban .
JoAnn was banging her head on her bedroom window.
Mom stood near the front door of the house, hands tucked into the pockets of her house coat. I was about to boisterously verbalize an encouragement for help when Zaire dropped the Rugar, and, shouting profanities, twirled circles while trying to get a porcupine off her backside. She glared in my direction. "Someone get this fucker off my ass!"
"Not me," I said, holding tight to the stock of my crossbow, head shaking an affirmation. I'd fought my share of vampire porcupines; the little shits had power quills that always seemed to find me, and they stung like the dickens.
"Well, somebody do something, damn it!" Zaire screamed.
Asbestos finger glued to her trigger, Resi fired ten rapid shots and hit five squirrels and the fox. I was impressed, since she was running toward Zaire at the time. She flipped the Remington , gripped the barrel with her gloved hand, and clobbered the porcupine on its' rump. It went flying ten feet into the air. She dropped the rifle, didn't even break stride, and gathered the stunned animals she'd shot, twisted heads from shoulders, and stuffed carnage into a sack tied around her waist.
During the tirade, JoAnn's little nightmare saw its window of opportunity and bolted for the woods beside our house. The raccoon was so fast, I barely registered the move. Crap , I thought, we're gonna have to use JoAnn as bait.
Zaire was doing a butt rubbing little jig. From the doorway of the house, Mom shot a stream of light from her open hand and sent the porcupine another fifty feet into the air in a shower of ejected quills right over my goddamned head.
I dropped the crossbow, tucked, and rolled, but the quills peppered my hip, left butt cheek, and back. "OOOOOOOuch!" I yelled. "I'm a frigging quill-magnet!"
"What the hell?" Zaire said. Her eyes looked like they were about to start shooting bolts of lightning in my mother's direction. "You let the fucker bite me in the ass!"
Mom was rubbing her hands together. "You said to use my power wisely."
"Yeah, well, you could've used it wisely a hell of a lot sooner!" Zaire spat.
"Uh-huh," Mom said with a toothy smile. "And you could've thought twice before being a smartass. Not one of those rifles has a sterling silver trigger or muzzle. They're all stainless steel. I'm not an idiot."
"Well hell," I said, pulling the damn glove off and tossing it on the ground.
~~~
Five
~~~
"Well, sugar, my man is gonna be pleased after last night," Betty twanged.
She wore lewdly-short, pink terry-cloth shorts with black lace trim and Princess printed across the ass. Lily-white butt-cheeks and shapely legs led to bare feet, crossed at the ankles and sporting hot pink toenails. A pair of gold and black, stiletto, flip-flop jobbies lay beside her on the floor. Her white, midriff tank was cut low enough to see the top edge of her areolas if she moved just right. Dolly Parton hair piled high on her head, and shimmering pools of ocean-blue sparkled under long black lashes.
" Stupido !" Mom said. "Of course he's pleased; deffondere le gambe !"
"I don't like the sound of that, Chickie girl." Betty's heavily mascaraed eyelashes narrowed. "Hmmm, let me see?" Betty raised a penciled brow, and, elbow on the table, cupped her chin and leaned toward my mother. "See, I may not understand that foreign talk, but I'm guessin' 'cause you're gettin' up in age you're regardin' my expertise in the bedroom with a tad bit of jealousy. Am I right? Scary, ain't it? Yeah, I pretty much can call 'em like they roll, sugar, so you may not want to go startin' that shit this early in the evening, K?"
"Damn, it's good to see you." Zaire slapped Betty on the back as she butt-scooted her down the bench a good three feet from my mother.
I smiled at Zaire, but then Mom
JoAnn was banging her head on her bedroom window.
Mom stood near the front door of the house, hands tucked into the pockets of her house coat. I was about to boisterously verbalize an encouragement for help when Zaire dropped the Rugar, and, shouting profanities, twirled circles while trying to get a porcupine off her backside. She glared in my direction. "Someone get this fucker off my ass!"
"Not me," I said, holding tight to the stock of my crossbow, head shaking an affirmation. I'd fought my share of vampire porcupines; the little shits had power quills that always seemed to find me, and they stung like the dickens.
"Well, somebody do something, damn it!" Zaire screamed.
Asbestos finger glued to her trigger, Resi fired ten rapid shots and hit five squirrels and the fox. I was impressed, since she was running toward Zaire at the time. She flipped the Remington , gripped the barrel with her gloved hand, and clobbered the porcupine on its' rump. It went flying ten feet into the air. She dropped the rifle, didn't even break stride, and gathered the stunned animals she'd shot, twisted heads from shoulders, and stuffed carnage into a sack tied around her waist.
During the tirade, JoAnn's little nightmare saw its window of opportunity and bolted for the woods beside our house. The raccoon was so fast, I barely registered the move. Crap , I thought, we're gonna have to use JoAnn as bait.
Zaire was doing a butt rubbing little jig. From the doorway of the house, Mom shot a stream of light from her open hand and sent the porcupine another fifty feet into the air in a shower of ejected quills right over my goddamned head.
I dropped the crossbow, tucked, and rolled, but the quills peppered my hip, left butt cheek, and back. "OOOOOOOuch!" I yelled. "I'm a frigging quill-magnet!"
"What the hell?" Zaire said. Her eyes looked like they were about to start shooting bolts of lightning in my mother's direction. "You let the fucker bite me in the ass!"
Mom was rubbing her hands together. "You said to use my power wisely."
"Yeah, well, you could've used it wisely a hell of a lot sooner!" Zaire spat.
"Uh-huh," Mom said with a toothy smile. "And you could've thought twice before being a smartass. Not one of those rifles has a sterling silver trigger or muzzle. They're all stainless steel. I'm not an idiot."
"Well hell," I said, pulling the damn glove off and tossing it on the ground.
~~~
Five
~~~
"Well, sugar, my man is gonna be pleased after last night," Betty twanged.
She wore lewdly-short, pink terry-cloth shorts with black lace trim and Princess printed across the ass. Lily-white butt-cheeks and shapely legs led to bare feet, crossed at the ankles and sporting hot pink toenails. A pair of gold and black, stiletto, flip-flop jobbies lay beside her on the floor. Her white, midriff tank was cut low enough to see the top edge of her areolas if she moved just right. Dolly Parton hair piled high on her head, and shimmering pools of ocean-blue sparkled under long black lashes.
" Stupido !" Mom said. "Of course he's pleased; deffondere le gambe !"
"I don't like the sound of that, Chickie girl." Betty's heavily mascaraed eyelashes narrowed. "Hmmm, let me see?" Betty raised a penciled brow, and, elbow on the table, cupped her chin and leaned toward my mother. "See, I may not understand that foreign talk, but I'm guessin' 'cause you're gettin' up in age you're regardin' my expertise in the bedroom with a tad bit of jealousy. Am I right? Scary, ain't it? Yeah, I pretty much can call 'em like they roll, sugar, so you may not want to go startin' that shit this early in the evening, K?"
"Damn, it's good to see you." Zaire slapped Betty on the back as she butt-scooted her down the bench a good three feet from my mother.
I smiled at Zaire, but then Mom
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