Rainbow Ranch, Chapter 5

The top octave was alive with buzzing noises that prickled Lucy’s ear hairs. Must have been another lightning spell that King Harrison was conjuring up. Must have been how this story was going to end: the same way King Harrison’s life ended before he had stolen Loki as a bodily vessel. This was Lucy the Hammer’s destiny: a half-wiener dog cooked like the piece of meat she was named after. She held her friends tightly as if her armor was enough to shield them from a visit from the Angel of Death. If they were leaving Rainbow Ranch together, they’d cross the Rainbow Bridge together. The silver lining in that cloud? They’d never have to see King Harrison again and they’d never have to fight another pointless war against forces they couldn’t understand.

 

“Out of my face, you annoying tart!” belted Harrison. The buzzing continued, but was now accompanied by sounds of heavy swatting. “Go on, get out of here! Move it!”

 

Confusion didn’t weigh on Lucy’s heart nearly as heavily as grief and despair. She welcomed the new emotion as she turned to see what was up. The buzzing was not from a new lightning spell that would send them into the nothing. It was but an amethyst-colored fly flapping its little wings around Harrison’s face, a ghost of sorts. For someone who loved animals, he was quick to annoy when the lifeforms were slightly uglier than a puppy.

 

Harrison continued to swat at the ghost fly and the “annoying tart” dodged and weaved out of the way with minimal effort. His teeth gnashed together and his fists tightened as this microscopic creature got under…whatever was left of his skin. Even when the ghost fly tried to swoop out of Ozzie’s humble abode, Harrison, visibly frustrated, floated after the little dickens and swatted some more while grumbling and groaning through his slime-covered teeth.

 

Lucy, Ozzie, Callie, and Loki looked at each other with their heads tilted in perplexity. Lucy shrugged her shoulders before the four of them leapt to their feet and pitter-pattered outside to see what was going on. Lucy’s eyes widened and her tiny jaw dropped at the sight of their saviors. “Wow…it can’t be…I don’t believe it…” she whispered.

 

On one side of the snowy hill floated the ghost of King Harrison, a disgraced politician and sorcerer who couldn’t let go of his own demons, even at the expense of those who loved him. On the other side of the hill…King James stood with folded arms and a death stare scrawled across his bearded face. And speaking of death stares, nobody did them better than his necromancer confidant himself, Razor Ripley, whose magic was used to resurrect the fly and cause the momentary distraction. With a flick of Ripley’s bony finger, the magic left the fly’s body and drifted into the dark of space.

 

Both sides of this confrontation stared at each other with murderous intentions, fists clenched, lungs expanding and contracting with raspy flows, and deadly eyes that could have been weapons by themselves if not for the necessity of forged steel. Still in Ozzie’s doorway were the four animals who were responsible for exorcising Harrison’s ghost from Loki’s body. Razor Ripley knew they bore the responsibility and gave an ashen-eyed wink at Lucy, which instead of reassuring her, caused her to gulp and shiver. She could never get used to how creepy the necromancer looked even during moments of happiness.

 

King James uncrossed his arms and took a few steps forward, his steel boots crunching in the thick snow. His eyes never disengaged with Harrison’s furious gaze. “It’s over, brother,” said James. “Your quest for revenge was never going anywhere to begin with…and it has nowhere to go now. This whole conflict was little more than a waste of our time and resources. You could have ruled Rainbow Ranch with a kind heart and a wise mind. You could have asked for help if you needed it. And yet…you continued down your self-destructive path. For what reason, dear brother? Why did this need to happen?” No answer from Harrison, only fury. “Answer me, damn it!”

 

“And how exactly did you plan on helping me?” asked Harrison. “What could you have done to make this pain more bearable? I know! You could reach inside my head and pull out every demon that has ever spoken to me and told me this was a good idea! You can still do it now even as my physical form has turned to rotten waste! What are you waiting for, dear brother?! Do it! It’s the only way!”

 

Razor Ripley took a few steps forward until he was side-by-side with his royal master. “This sarcasm is unbecoming of you, Harrison. You bloody well knew what you needed to do. Talk through it all. Identify your emotions. Process the worst parts of your trauma. The healing would have been most difficult, but not impossible. All that being equal…you couldn’t be bothered to participate in your own rescue. That’s why you’re a ghost and everyone else is alive. And I do mean…everyone.”

 

From the bottom of the mountain, Lucy the Hammer’s old squad mates marched up the hill with weapons in hand and stoicism plastered on their jowly visages. Granted, they didn’t quite dry off from being washed down the power station, they were dogs and hygiene was at least the fourth or fifth item on their list of priorities. As Lucy’s heart dropped to her guts, she clutched her chest, smiled weakly, and tried to stifle a flood of tears that would for sure recreate what happened at the power station. Loki licked her face and got a giggle out of her. The tears would have to wait.

 

“As I said before, brother man…it’s over. Your worthless crusade is over,” said James.

 

The ghost of King Harrison cupped his hands and gathered an ample amount of fire energy, which swirled all around him, igniting a furious passion that was par for the course for a man with his demons. “Nothing is over until I say it’s over! This war will continue whether you’re too lazy to continue it or not!”

 

And just like that, Lucy had enough of this arrogant posturing. She proved him wrong before and she would do it again. She furrowed her eyebrows, set her hammer down, and rolled a snowball into her paws before launching it at the back of Harrison’s head.

 

“Ouch! You stupid dog!” bellowed Harrison.

 

“Death Rattle! FIRE!” commanded Razor Ripley. The snowball strike distracted Harrison long enough that he failed to defend himself from the one spell that could send a ghost into the endless void forever: the Death Rattle. That poor fly’s spirit floated away in short order, may his sacrifice never be forgotten. And after a jagged mini-tornado zipped across the hill, the Death Rattle spell found its mark.

 

Harrison’s ghostly essence contorted and twisted into multiple positions as it struggled to resist its inevitable fate. The morphing proved to make Lucy’s eyes widen and heart race faster than actual combat with this foe just moments earlier. Harrison’s head expanded like a balloon. His arms were growing and shrinking willy-nilly. His legs twisted up in a little knot. His stomach gurgled and boiled audibly enough to gag the dogs standing behind Ripley and King James. And then…Harrison’s ghostly body stretched and thinned out as it expanded to the sky. It stretched…and stretched…and stretched…until it was too thin to even exist anymore. And then…POOF! The glowing energy snuffed out and Harrison was but a distant memory. Such a shame he couldn’t get a proper send-off with his own funeral service, but coming back to life and fighting a meaningless war was a decision he made by himself…and one he would carry with him to eternity.

 

Silence took over the battlefield as everyone involved slowed down to process everything they just went through and saw for themselves. Lucy’s heartbeat steadied. Her eyes dried out and returned to normal size. Her heavy breathing had grown shallow. Everyone stood there and let the moment sink in. No more pointless revenge quests. No more insanity. No more wasted motion. Just a land of animals called Rainbow Ranch, where the abandoned and unloved could finally have a community of their own.

 

After a while of taking it all in, Lucy’s smile started to grow and she let out a few giggles. She picked up her oversized hammer and leapt into the air holding it overhead. “We did it!” The Shut Up Stupid Dogs squadron cheered, barked, and howled at the realization that this brutal struggle was over. Ozzie and Callie hugged each other and rekindled the love that was lost so long ago. Loki rushed over to his true owner and licked his bony toes while King James patted him on the head. Lucy continued to run, jump, and play while swinging her hammer in the air. “We did it! We did it, everyone! We gave that mean old man the old One, Two, Buckle Your Shoe!”

 

In her overexcitement, Lucy swung her hammer in the same spinning motion that caused her to belly flop at the power station. But this time…she landed on her feet. Silence overtook the mountain once again as everyone stared at Lucy’s celebratory dance. She actually did it. She landed on her feet. This just made her smile, spin, and dance even more. Wasn’t that what life in Rainbow Ranch was supposed to be about? Smiling, spinning, and dancing? Running, jumping, wrestling, and playing?

 

But now looking at the weapon of war in her hand, Lucy had a decision to make. She had grown comfortable enough in her role as a soldier protecting Rainbow Ranch from the worst of the worst. At the same time, she longed for the feeling of a tennis ball in her mouth, long-nailed hands scratching her belly, and eating sausages that exploded with juice in every bite. This wouldn’t be a decision she could make lightly, but it was one worth considering now that King Harrison was in the rear view.

Rainbow Ranch, Chapter 2

Lucy could have searched the entirety of Rainbow Ranch up and down and it wouldn’t have done anything but make her lonelier. Not a friend in sight. Not even a piece of driftwood came from that flood. The more she traveled, the harder she hugged herself for warmth. She became dangerously close to creating her own flood with the tears that she held back. Her old fur parents wouldn’t have faulted her for crying. She could have done it all she wanted when she was abandoned on this island with many others. Razor Ripley didn’t want “weakness” in his ranks, but Loki the Skull was even more discouraging of vulnerability due to the insane king that haunted his soul. King Harrison wanted Lucy the Hammer to bear a grudge against her abandoners, but all he succeeded in doing was making her resent him instead.

 

The frosty wind gathering around Lucy did nothing to ease her resentment. “That mean old jerk!” she muttered to herself through shivering breaths. With the power station knocked out, there was nothing to guard against the chilly weather that made Lucy shake harder than any sorrow ever could. She had been wandering aimlessly for so long that she failed to take in her surroundings. There was indeed harsh snow dusting the ground and making the air nip at her fur harder than fleas. “Where am I?” she asked. “Where are my friends? Where’s my tennis ball? I want my mommy and daddy…”

 

With very little meat on her bones (armor notwithstanding), she knew she would perish in this weather and was strangely okay with it. This was what abandonment meant to her. Rainbow Ranch was a lie. Her dumpers were right all along. And as long as Razor Ripley was upset with her, she would never prove them wrong. Debating wasn’t where she excelled in life despite having a yappy bark, which she missed using in the presence of her squad mates.

 

And then…a warm breeze passed over her, putting a tiny smile on her face. The more she felt this, the harder her tail wagged. Lucy yapped and barked as she dashed toward the source of this heavenly heat. Among the uncaring frost was a tiny grotto which radiated a warm orange glow. Hopefully, whoever dwelled in this place was as warm as the heat radiating from within. It would have been easier for Lucy to knock, but her happy zeal carried her past the entranceway regardless, romping inside like a wild stampede.

 

The minute the heat warmed her aching bones, she breathed a sigh of relief and plopped down on her butt. There could have been a fire-breathing dragon in this grotto and Lucy wouldn’t have cared as long as she could feel this heat forever. Though the breeze was no substitute for a mother’s hug, it came pretty close. Her eyes widened at the sound of a phonograph playing gentle guitar and violin music. As if the relaxation couldn’t be more blissful, now she was going to be lulled to sleep by the sweet strums of guitar strings and graceful glides of violins. Lucy yawned before placing her paws behind her head and smiling her way into the dreamworld.

 

Her subconscious vacation lasted as long as one of her kibble dinners as a pup. The record scratched and the new age lullaby was replaced by the hisses and growls of an angry cat. Lucy gulped and slowly opened her eyes to see an elderly anthropomorphic cat standing over her. The cat flashed her cutting fangs, balanced a golden knife in her hands, all while hogging the warmth for herself in her orange knitted armor with brown leather boots.

 

“Are…are you Ozzie the Wise?” asked a trembling Lucy before turning her head away in anticipation of a scratch.

 

“Ozzie the Wise is nothing more than a myth,” the cat growled in a feminine voice. “I’m Callie the Wildfire and you’ve crossed into my domain. What makes you think you’re welcome here? This is not a stray shelter. Move along, fleabag!”

 

“Wait, wait, wait!” begged Lucy before nipping up. “You don’t understand! I’m a member of the Shut Up Stupid Dogs! I’m here to help you! There’s a wizard on the loose and…”

 

“And you led him here, didn’t you.” Callie’s arms were crossed, blade still balanced in her paw.

 

“No, no! It’s not like that! You see, my…um…my squad mates were all…” Lucy gulped in an attempt to come up with an answer that never came.

 

“Let me guess: they met a cruel and unfair end at the hands of this wizard,” Callie said coldly.

 

“Um…yes…I mean…I hope not…” The tears were harder for Lucy to fight, but fight them she did.

 

“This is what happens when one of your kings decides to turn perfectly happy animals into monstrosities. This was always the plan for him. You think you’re the only one who misses your mommy? I miss mine too! I never had responsibilities and I don’t want them now. And yet, here you are begging for my help when my generator is sputtering and flickering.”

 

“Please, Miss Callie!” Lucy got on two knees and held her hands together like a prayer. “I can help you fix your generator if you just let me stay a while! Besides, you’re in danger! So is Ozzie the Wise!”

 

Callie tucked her head and turned her back to Lucy. “Ozzie the Wise is a danger to himself.”

 

“What do you mean? You know him?”

 

“I used to. He and I were supposed to be beddy-buddies in our fur parents’ humble home. We did everything together. And then…you know by now what King Harrison did. Ever since then, Ozzie became obsessed with responsibilities that were never his. He learned how to use magic and the more he used, the more his mind shut off. He’s not the man I loved so many years ago. I don’t even know who he is. HE doesn’t even know who he is. If he hasn’t gone down the same path as King Harrison with his insanity, he sure as heck is on his way there.”

 

Lucy stood up and hung her own head. “I’m sorry to hear about that, Miss Callie.”

 

“Don’t feel sorry for me, little pup. Animals never had a say in their own fates anyways, whether we were human-like or not. If our destinies are going to be chosen for us, then at the very least they should be chosen by people who undoubtedly care for us.”

 

“That’s…that’s so sad…”

 

Callie sighed and faced Lucy once more. “When you’re as old as I am, sadness becomes part of the norm. You’re not there yet, but you’ll get there someday. Your joints will ache. Your body will break down. Your mind will cannibalize itself. And then…we all fall down and die.”

 

“Why not speed up the process?!”

 

Lucy and Callie gasped before turning to find those words came from Loki the Skull, lightning swirling his hands and poison dripping from his fangs.

 

“So…you DID lead him here, didn’t you! Foolish oaf!” screamed Callie before she pulled out her knife to confront Loki.

 

“Callie, wait!”

 

It was too late; Callie already engaged her enemy with the fastest of stabs. Her paw blurred and flashed because of this speed, which left Lucy wide-eyed and awestruck. “Cool,” Lucy whispered to herself. Soon enough, her stabs began chipping away a the stone walls of her own grotto. She for sure had victory well within hand…until Loki blasted her with an energy ball and send her crashing into her record collection.

 

Lucy gasped as Callie picked herself up to fight again. But once she saw her records and phonograph destroyed, she collapsed to her knees and trembled in sorrow. “Oh no…no…Ozzie loved this music…and it’s gone…All of it’s gone…” She hugged her possessions and tried her damnedest not to break down in front of her mortal enemy. The last connection she had to her past, gone. All gone. Maybe she really should have “sped up the process”.

 

“YOU BIG FAT MEANIE! I’M GOING TO SMASH YOU GOOD!” An enraged Lucy drew her war hammer and charged at Loki with all of her scrappy might. Spittle flew from her lips like rabies and the warmth of the grotto was replaced with hellfire rage for her sworn enemy. She swung. She smashed. She pounded. She gave the old “one, two, buckle your shoe”…and her hammer went flying once again, jutting into the stone wall.

 

Loki, who dodged every shot Lucy gave, mockingly pulled the hammer out of the wall and dangled it in front of her. “This yours?”

 

“Give it back, you sick little mutt!” Every time Lucy jumped up and reached for it, Loki held it out of her way. Bored with this dog-exclusive game of cat and mouse, Loki zapped Lucy in the chest with a thunder bolt and send her barreling across the grotto. She coughed and wheezed at the damage while Loki continued to taunt her with the hammer.

 

“You want this back? Come get it. It’ll be waiting patiently for you in Ozzie’s home!”

 

“YOU LEAVE OZZIE ALONE, YOU PIG DOG! AND GIVE ME BACK MY HAMMER!” shrieked Lucy.

 

Loki ignored her command and teleported out of sight, black dust following him out.

 

Defeated and humiliated, Lucy dropped to her knees once more and pounded the dirt ground with her fists. “It’s not fair! It’s just not fair! Why does he get to have all the magic and all I’ve got is this stupid hammer?!”

 

“Magic?! What’s all this about magic?!” snapped Callie as she stood up to collect herself. “Ozzie the Wise has plenty of magic! He’s beaten King Harrison before and he’ll beat him again! You want your hammer back?! I want my past back! Come on, let’s got them both!”

 

Bewildered, Lucy asked, “So…you’re not mad at me anymore?”

 

Callie placed her paw on Lucy’s shoulder and stretched her claw. “Let me put it this way: I’m madder at King Harrison than I am at you. I’ll deal with you another time. But for now…” She held up a piece from one of her broken records. Lucy gulped in fear, but understood the mission at hand.

Good Morning to No One

7:30 in the morning

The sky looks like shit

Wintry mix is pouring down

And I’m getting sick of it

9:30 in the morning

Hit the head, go back to bed

I never once believed in

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead”

11:30 in the morning

Put on clothes, feed the cat

Doom scroll into infinite

And wonder why I feel sad

1:00 in the afternoon

I eat a Hungry, Hungry Man

Breakfast of champions

It’s amazing I can still stand

2:30 in the afternoon

It’s the same old, same old

Watch a video, learn nothing

Spend the rest of the day cold

4:30 in the evening

Will I or will I not?

Another day in stasis

Emotions of a porno bot

6:30 in the evening

Eat my dinner way too fast

More COVID deaths on the news

And it sure won’t be the last

8:30 in the evening

Should I eat a whole pizza pie?

It’s the only thing I can do

To resist the urge to cry

10:00 at night

I’m not ready for the sack

I’d probably wake up anyway

With all this pain in my back

Midnight, oh, midnight

Will you come take me away?

I can’t believe in tomorrow

When it’s another shitty day

2:00 in the morning

My eyes are too heavy

Here comes the final flood

To break down the eyelid levies

Good morning to no one

You couldn’t hear me anyway

Too busy with your own life

Earning peanuts for your pay

Staying In Bed

To hell with being dutiful

Staying in bed is beautiful

A purring kitty on my chest

He agrees that it’s time to rest

Piano music calms me down

Hypnotized by the gentle sound

Cold breeze blowing outside

Under the blankets is where I hide

Back to work on another day

Couldn’t motivate myself anyway

Stare at the ceiling, think about life

Share my bed with an imaginary wife

Watch movies playing in my head

They don’t make a lick of sense

Heater blasting on a winter night

Makes resisting sleep an uphill fight

But I can’t stay here forever and ever

Despite the drop in barometric pressure

Another day waits on the other side

That way you can’t say I never tried

Still walking around like the undead

Not a whole lot going on in my head

A few more hours until it gets dark

Until rainwater floods the public park

Until the moon shines down upon us all

Until face down on the bed is where I fall

Disconnect my telephone line

Tomorrow everything will be just fine

Like it is almost every damn day

No sense in asking me if I’m okay

Street Sleeper

Johnny De Morgan’s pick strummed delicately across his guitar strings and created a heavenly lullaby for those walking the streets at night. He too could feel the heaviness of his eyelids and the quicksand-like pull underneath his body. Yet he continued to strum his beautiful melodies as the snow gently poured into his guitar case, barely a single gold coin occupying this space. Strangers walked by with their chins tucked into their chests, not giving Johnny the slightest glance.

The night sky blanketed the city in midnight shadows. Johnny wished he too had a blanket of some kind, but all that kept him minimally warm was his checkered overcoat, striped scarf, and thin layers underneath. He struggled to keep his fingers steady in this shiver-inducing weather. Sometimes his melodies would echo awkwardly across the street corner because of his shaking. Johnny stopped playing and gripped the neck of his guitar like he was actually strangling someone. He held the instrument above his head like he was going to smash the fucking thing to pieces.

“Johnny, no!” shouted a feminine voice off to the side. The busker’s eyes must have been too frosty to notice her at first, but that beautiful voice could have only belonged to the elven rogue Debra Lynch. Light green skin, thick layers of black wool, wavy blue hair, and a cap over her scalp: she was unmistakable at this point. She had the same weary and sorrowful expression in her damp eyes that Johnny did. That made her even more beautiful (not that Johnny would ever tell her something like that).

“Johnny, you can’t give up yet. You’ll freeze to death out here if you don’t keep playing,” begged Debra.

“I don’t know, Debra,” said Johnny with his head hung low. “Does it really matter anymore how good I am with this stupid thing? Nobody’s paying attention. Everybody just wants to walk on by like I’m some sort of fucking monster. Forget it, Debra, I’m done with this shit.”

“So what would you rather do? Starve to death?” pleaded Debra while cupping her hands over Johnny’s arm. “You don’t have a choice in the matter. It’s either this or death. Wait a minute…you’re not actually considering…” The elf’s voice grew shaky with those last few words.

“Like you said, Debbie-Cakes: I don’t have a choice in the matter,” said Johnny with more coldness than the snowflakes pounding down on him. “I can stand out here and freeze like a motherfucker playing for pennies…or I can just fall asleep in my own shallow grave. Never have to wake up again. Never have to deal with these ignorant people. Never have to worry about where my next meal’s coming from. Sounds like heaven to me.”

Debra smacked Johnny in the back of his head and messed up his black puffy hairdo. “I don’t ever want to hear you talk about that nonsense again! If you just fuck off the face of this earth, what am I supposed to do for the rest of my life? I need you, Johnny. We need each other!”

Tears welled up in Johnny’s frosty eyes as he said, “Sorry, I’m just a little frustrated, that’s all. God, what I wouldn’t do for a hot bowl of soup and a fucking blanket! Is that too much to ask for?!”

The argument came to an abrupt end when Johnny and Debra’s eyes zeroed in on a heavyset orc strutting down the streets. His leather armor, bloody war paint, and gigantic sword sheathed on his back gave him the aura of an undisputed champion. The burdensome sack of gold coins on his belt caused Johnny and Debra to snap awake with secretive excitement. Johnny strummed his guitar much more vigorously than before in hopes that the rock and roll music would entice this brutish warrior.

The orc attempted to skate on by, but Johnny and Debra blocked his path with the biggest of grins. Debra even rubbed her gloved fingers together to signify what she and her friend wanted. “Fuck off and die!” shouted the beastly warrior as he shoved Johnny into a row of rubbish bins.

“Hey!” belted Debra. “Who the hell do you think you are pushing a defenseless man like that?!” When the orc refused to listen, the elf grabbed him by the thick wrist and jerked him over for attention. “I’m talking to you, you gigantic sack of shit!”

“Debra, wait!” pleaded Johnny as he picked himself and his guitar off the ground. “That’s Link Rotunda! He’s a cage fighting champion! You’re not going to get any gold from him by calling him a sack of shit! Show some respect!”

Link’s rotten grin coincided with Debra’s fiery glare as the orc said, “That’s better! That’s what I like to see: people taking initiative!” He pointed his sausage index finger at Debra and said, “You could learn something from a guy like him!” The elf hmphed and folded her arms, never releasing her death stare from the gigantic bully. “Now then, where were we? Ah yes! You want some of this gold, sonny boy? You want to eat tonight? You’re going to have to earn it! Forget that stupid hipster guitar! You’re going to dance for your supper!”

“He will do no such thing!” grunted Debra before being held at bay by Link’s massive arm.

“What do you say, you sweet little boy? Are you going to dance or what?” asked Link with a devilish smirk. Despite Debra’s angry protests, Johnny tossed aside his guitar and danced around like a monkey attempting ballet. Link’s throaty laughter caused Debra to hold her face in her hands in sheer embarrassment. “Good one, good one! Now put the garbage can on your head! Do it, monkey boy!”

Sure enough, Johnny heaved a garbage can over himself and danced around some more, Debra shaking her head the entire time and Link laughing it up with a few knee slaps to boot. “How am I doing, Mr. Rotunda?”

“Oh, you’re doing great, my friend! You’re going to be a rich motherfucker in no time at all! Just one more thing and you’ll have all the gold you want! Take off that silly garbage can…and suck my dick!”

The monkey dancing was replaced with a frozen stillness and silent weeping underneath the garbage can. He slowly pulled off the bin and revealed an expression full of shock and despondency. “Is that what you really want, Mr. Rotunda? I’ll do it if that’s what you want.”

“This is bullshit!” shouted Debra as she picked up the fallen rubbish bin and tossed it at Link.

The orc slashed it in half with one wave of his newly unsheathed sword. Garbage scattered across the ground and blew away in the winter breeze. Johnny silently asked Debra what the fuck she was doing and elf stood her ground with clenched fists and a raw attitude.

Meanwhile, Link just laughed it off and said, “I guess you don’t really want hot soup after all. It’s a shame, because I could have given you more soup in that one BJ than any restaurant. It’s saltier too! And tastier! Or so I’ve been told!” Link sheathed his sword, waved goodbye, and chuckled, “Keep saving up!” He turned heel and strutted away until the nighttime shadows covered him completely.

Johnny’s cheeks quivered and his eyes cascaded as he struggled to say, “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done? He was our meal ticket!”

Debra’s angry breathing intensified to where this winter weather could be confused for a boiling summertime hell. She grabbed Johnny by his overcoat and shoved him against a brick wall. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!” raged the elf. “Do you really think he was going to pay you all that money to humiliate yourself like that? Bullshit, he would have disappeared like a fart in the wind! I know you’re a homeless man looking for change, but you should never have to lower yourself like that just for a half ass chance at getting paid! I don’t care if Link Rotunda is the champion of the fucking universe! He’s a bully first and a humanitarian last! How do you think he wins so many of those fights?!”

Johnny snorted loose snot up his nose and swallowed before sobbing, “I’ll take a small chance of getting paid over no chance any day of the week.”

Debra slammed Johnny back first against the wall and raised her fist in the air as though she was ready to knock a few teeth loose. “I should turn that fucking face of yours inside out for saying shit like that! I should rip your brains out through your eye sockets and eat that for dinner instead of some poor man’s soup!”

Johnny De Morgan could feel his insides turning into jelly and his bladder and bowels loosening while anticipating the stinging fist that would eventually shatter his skull into snowflakes. The tension in his stomach made him ill. His skin turned pasty white. He shook harder than when he was struggling for warmth.

And then Debra said, “I’ve got a better idea than that” before showering her victim with a handful of golden coins. Johnny could finally breathe a heavy sigh of relief like a whirlwind of seething pain coming out of his mouth. His elf compatriot brushed his checkerboard coat off and said, “The only way you’ll ever eat with me tonight is if you never pull that shit again. You’re my best friend. I hate seeing you in pain like that. Link was never going to give you those gold coins, so I snatched them from him while he was busy laughing like a fucking hyena.”

Johnny and Debra embraced one another and gave their bodies enough warmth to last through two more winters. It wasn’t just physical warmth that Johnny felt throughout his body. It was that special warm fuzzy feeling of knowing his best friend had his back through thick and thin (even if she did scare the shit out of him). Johnny could picture the bowl of soup sliding down his throat and soothing his frosty wounds. Broccoli cheddar soup from a garlic bread bowl. Thank you, Mr. Rotunda. Thank you so much!

The Theomancer

Krimson hated the way the masked snowmen were looking at him. Each of them were lined up on either side of the Frigid Highlands with skeletal masks that glowed an eerie shade of purple. The red ninja balled up his cannonball fist and knocked one of the snowmen’s block off. Underneath the shattered head revealed the dead body of one of his brethren. Members of the proud Raven Strike Society were buried underneath the guise of snowmen. The thought made Krimson sick to his stomach.

This was no time for such a weak reaction. With his red ninja gear, steel boots and gloves, demonic mask, and straw triangle hat, Krimson was dressed for battle. He stomped his way up the snowy hill, glaring with electrified eyes at each of the snowmen. Such disrespectful desecration, Krimson thought to himself. His blue-skinned muscles and bright green aura brought out his deathly side, which he would need for this upcoming battle.

The top of the hill was book-ended by the tallest snowman of all with his bladed mouth, cross-decorated black pope’s hat, and purple cloak that blew in the frosty winds. Krimson folded his arms like he was the true giant and spoke callously to the creature before him. “You must be the one they call The Theomancer. Seven is obviously to cowardly to come greet me himself, so he sends this popsicle to do his bidding. Seven is just like any other god: too afraid to come out of hiding when he’s needed the most. I intend to beat the answers I want out of him and you’re in my way, Theomancer. Are you ready to get your skull cracked in?” That last line was accented with Krimson cracking his bumpy knuckles.

The snowman’s eyes glowed with each piece of dialogue. “You claim followers of Sevenism are delusional, yet here you are thinking you can simply beat answers out of our lord and prophet. Even if you were to somehow have contact with him, the foundation of our religion has already been laid. No money-hungry king or bloodthirsty queen will ever give up their faith just because you’re foolish enough to venture to these sacred lands looking for a fight. Each of these snowmen contains the spirits of those who were even stupider than you. What makes you so special, human?”

“You want to talk about deities? You’re looking at one. I am Krimson, the God of Vengeance. I associate with the Raven Strike Society not because of their heretical beliefs, but because a world under their leadership will thrive while a world under Sevenism will crumble into dust. You’re standing in the way of that goal and for that you will pay.” Krimson held his steel fists up in a boxing stance while electrical and fiery energy flowed through them.

“If you want to complete your kamikaze mission so badly, be my guest. But know this: you’re not fighting with any mere mortal. You’re not even fighting with the Theomancer. Yeti is what I’m called. With Seven as my witness, I shall rip your heart from your chest and feast on it like a barbaric meal!” Cracks began to form in Yeti’s snowy shell, each of them glowing with a brilliant yellow light. The shell continued to crack until an explosive storm of ice and snow showered upon Krimson, who kept his arms in his face to block the assaulting weather.

No more was the Theomancer. In his place was a seven-foot tall mummy with slimy green skin, glowing yellow eyes, and razor-sharp fangs with maggots crawling around them. Yeti flexed his muscles and cracked his own neck before getting in a defensive stance and waving for Krimson to come at him.

“Let’s do this!” roared the God of Vengeance, whose chilling glare never erased from his face. Krimson rushed into battle with a flying kick that sent an aftershock of pain throughout Yeti’s body, yet the mighty mummy never moved. The red ninja continued throwing rapid fire punches and kicks around Yeti’s legs while the hulking creature tried swatting around the smaller opponent’s head.

Krimson dodged every swipe by ducking and rolling on the frostbitten ground. He could not avoid having both of Yeti’s hands grab his throat and hoist him in the air. Yeti glared at the God of Vengeance with a piercing gaze and rancid shit breath. Krimson broke free from the chokehold by placing a hard knee into Yeti’s elbow. The mummy growled in pain as his arm bent in a direction it wasn’t supposed to go. He grabbed himself by the wrist and popped it back into place, much to the disgust of Krimson, who had a hard time catching his breath.

While the red ninja was on the ground clutching his chest and wheezing, Yeti threw a hard soccer kick only to have Krimson cartwheel out of the way. The God of Vengeance launched his thick head into Yeti’s knee before throwing an uppercut to the giant’s groin. Yeti hauled back and screamed to the sky in unbearable pain, but only for a short while. He ducked his head down to meet Krimson’s gaze.

The red ninja felt queasy after smelling his opponent’s breath so many times in this fight. He clutched his stomach and resisted the urge to puke his guts out all over the snow. This time Yeti threw a kick and knocked the ninja backwards, rolling him down the hill and causing him to lose his lunch along the way. He sprayed a few snowmen with his stomach acids and melted their faces.

It had been a long and tiring roll to the bottom of the hill. Krimson laid there weak and helpless while Yeti was tromping down the hill looking to end this fight. The ninja’s vision was blurry at best and dark at worst. He was sure he’d join these snowmen in this blatant disrespect for the dead. And that was when he saw the faces of those he threw up on. The stomach acid ate the snow off their faces and caused the masks to drop.

Men, women, children, animals, all of them represented by these mummified snowmen. The markings on some of the adults’ uniforms suggested they were priests and took a vow of pacifism. They came to this sacred ground just to negotiate and bring peace to an otherwise violent world. They did nothing wrong. They were just innocents caught up in the crossfire. They were somebody’s son or daughter. They were somebody’s wife or husband. The dog corpses sickened Krimson to where he’d want to throw up again. The dogs had less at stake than the priests and they were viciously murdered and desecrated anyways.

Krimson felt a clawed hand reach for the back of his uniform and hold him up high. There it was again: that sewage-like smell. It was the feeling of eating rotten fruit that had been urinated on. It was the feeling of performing oral sex on a diseased phallus with open sores. That breath. That horrible Yeti’s breath. The red ninja didn’t think he had anymore food left in his stomach after smelling something like that. Instead he blew out naked stomach acid all over Yeti’s face.

The mummy’s eyes burned to where he had to release his grip of Krimson’s uniform. The red ninja plummeted on the soft snow below while his adversary danced around in pain like his face was on fire. Feeling weak himself, the red ninja didn’t think he could make it back to his feet. But slowly and with every last ounce of strength left, he was standing tall and striking his deadly pose yet again, renewed by the anger of his lost brethren.

“Seven! I’m coming for you, you sick son of a bitch!” shouted Krimson before throwing several haymakers and roundhouse kicks at Yeti’s breaking body. Cracks formed in his skin like broken pottery. Blood oozed out of him like spoiled fruit juice. Punches and kicks to the head, chest, arms, and legs, all of them with brutal speed and ursine strength. The assault ended when Yeti crumbled to the ground and bled all over the snow, his body nothing more than a pile of wrappings.

“Where are you, Seven?! Show yourself! Answer for your sins, you disgusting pig!” Krimson shouted to the sky, huffing and puffing after such an exhausting battle, not to mention the heavy vomiting that saved his life as well as weakened him. He dropped to one knee and glared harshly at the pile of wrappings. A victory well-earned, he thought to himself.

Out of the mummy bandages emerged a mere mortal of a man dressed in a black trench coat and black hat, both of which contrasted with his pasty white skin. Krimson stared at him in shock and then looked again at the mummy wrappings to see that the cracks and “blood” were all just part of a metal costume. “What the hell is the meaning of this?!” Krimson demanded.

“You called out the name of Seven. Now you’ve found him,” said the pasty individual with a wicked grin. “There was never any paradise. There was never any hope at salvation. Sevenism is a business model and nothing more. Just like any religion, it was a business model for controlling the masses. And they fell for it hook, line, and sinker. You can call me a prophet if you want, but I’m really just a salesman with too much time on his hands.”

Krimson pointed a nervous finger at Seven and said, “You…you son of a bitch…what have you done?! I’ll kill you!”

“Go ahead! Take your best shot!” dared Seven. “But what will killing me prove? Like I’ve told you before, the foundations of Sevenism are already in place. If you kill me, there will be another prophet slash salesman to represent my created religion. And another. And another. And another. Somebody is always willing to go down for the cause. And our cause is business! Business is booming!”

“This isn’t happening! No!” shouted Krimson.

“Oh, it is happening, my friend. I’m sure you’ll want to tell all of your friends about it, even those at the Raven Strike Society. Those atheistic fools are already set in their ways. But what about the rest of us who need Sevenism to get through our days? Will they be so trusting? Sure, why wouldn’t they trust the God of Vengeance? I’ll tell you why. Because you’re no god. You’re just a prophet like me and everyone who represents my religion.”

“You bastard!” shouted Krimson as he charged toward Seven, only to get a knife to his stomach by the false prophet. The ninja’s stomach was already aching from vomiting so much, and now his innards were spilling all over the snow as Seven gutted him alive. The ninja dropped to his knees and fell on his face in a slow and gory death.

Seven looked down at him, shook his head, and laughed like the super villain he was. “Time to make another snowman!” he said before licking the blood off of his knife in a lustful manner.