Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The cold. The cold went all the way to my bones and tore through my body like sharp, frozen daggers made of ice.
Trying to catch my breath, I gasped for air.
In the past I’d always screamed. It hadn’t helped.
I knew the drill and did my best to stay calm and go with it.
I just hoped Jennifer, Shitty Ritchie, Chamuel and I landed in the same place.
My head pounded violently, and every single cell in my body screamed for oxygen. I knew exactly what was happening, and I knew the soul-deep torture would eventually end. It was the same each and every time.
From the looks of it, I’d entered Shitty Ritchie’s mind again. The little dude was with me. Thankfully, Jennifer and Chamuel showed up seconds later. The slight buckling of my knees was involuntary and my sigh of relief was loud.
“Welcome to my mind!” Shitty Ritchie said with a giggle. “Enjoy your stay!”
My little group floated on air in the vast nothingness. There were no walls or floor to speak of. It was a familiar place to me and Shitty Ritchie. Jennifer and Chamuel looked around in curiosity and awe.
Chamuel, as with all the dead I visited in the mind, no longer appeared dead or ghost-like. The being wasn’t transparent or floating in the air above us. It looked one-hundred-percent alive and whole. I knew It wasn’t, but to anyone else it would be a difficult call.
I stared intently at the former Higher Power who embodied compassion. Was there anything about It that proved to me It was dead? A way of moving? A tone of voice? Since I was unsure of Hemah’s status, I was desperately searching for clues. So far, nothing obvious popped out.
I’d keep trying. Letting Hemah slide out of Shitty Ritchie’s rump without knowing if It was dead or alive was risky as hell.
There was no sign of Hemah… yet.
“Ohhhhh! Lookie!” Shitty Ritchie squealed. “My furniture, TV and cookies are still here!”
He was correct. I was surprised, but Shitty Ritchie’s mind was as weird as he was. Nothing should surprise me.
“WAIT,” the tiny dude yelled. He pulled out the waistband of his pants and shrieked with joy. “My dong! My dong is big again. Glory be to the Universe!”
Jennifer squinted at him. “I’m sorry, what in the heck did you just say, little guy?”
Shitty Ritchie pointed at his crotch. “Shitty Ritchie can make wishes in his mind and they come true! I wished for a big dong last time Daisy and I were here. When I got back to the real world, my weenie was teeny again. But here… here it is GLORIOUS! Do you want to see it?”
Jennifer held up both hands. “Ohhh, gosh no. No can do. But thank you for the offer.”
“Maybe later?” Shitty Ritchie asked, clearly disappointed that no one else was as excited as he was about the nonsense in his underpants.
“Nope. Probably not, friend,” she told him with a smile so kind, the dummy thought he’d won.
Chamuel gaped at Shitty Ritchie as the minute menace skipped in circles while admiring his junk. “He is one-third of the true Higher Power?” It asked, wildly concerned.
“Umm… he is,” I confirmed. “He lived in a cave for millions of years. He’s still acclimating to polite society.”
Chamuel nodded with a skeptical expression on Its face. “That does not seem to be going well.”
“Trust me. He’s way better than he used to be,” I assured It.
It shrugged. “If you say so.”
Jennifer walked over to the couch, sat down and made herself comfortable. “So, what do we do, Daisy? Should we get the party started?”
“Yes! Party!” the little dude shouted, taking her question literally and forgetting all about his junk. “Shitty Ritchie wishes for some red wine and some white wine for my beautiful friend, Jennifer!”
His wish appeared in two expensive looking bottles and materialized right next to the cookies. Jennifer threw her head back and laughed. Shitty Ritchie opened the bottles with his sharp teeth and handed them to his buddy.
“Thank you, Shitty Ritchie,” Jennifer said, taking a healthy swig from the bottle of red. “You’re a good boy, and this is some dang good wine.”
“The good boy has a big dang DONG!” he shrieked before falling onto the couch in a fit of hysterical laughter.
Chamuel walked over to me and tilted Its head in confusion. “As the Death Counselor, this is what you do?” It asked. “Have social gatherings inside the minds of the deceased?”
“Umm… no,” I said with a wince. “Normally, it’s nothing like this. Shitty Ritchie’s mind is not… umm… you know… umm…”
“Not sane?” Chamuel supplied. “Not stable? Unconnected to gray matter, or possibly blood flow?”
I laughed. It was shocking, but Chamuel had a sense of humor. “All of the above,” I confirmed. “But Shitty Ritchie is also loyal, loving and has all of our backs no matter what. While I occasionally enjoy drop kicking the tiny idiot, I would destroy anyone who tried to harm him.”
Chamuel raised a brow and smirked. “Of course… that is unless Shitty Ritchie eats the enemy first.”
“Speaking of…” I glanced around and scanned the area for Hemah.
The asshole was still a no show. The situation was heading towards me having to ask Shitty Ritchie to wish his counterpart here again.
I seriously hoped another dong deal wouldn’t be the price for the ask.
I wasn’t sure how much more room there was in his pants.
“My guess is that Hemah is going to stage a surprise attack,” Chamuel said with a sour expression. “Hemah was never one for standard entrances.”
Surprise entrance-attack. Bingo. We could play Hemah’s game before It could play us.
“Jennifer and Chamuel, would you mind hiding under the couch? I think a surprise attack—so to speak—from our side would be prudent.”
Jennifer chuckled as she stood up with a bottle of wine in each hand. “I’m gonna have to say I agree. It’ll be fun to see Goober aka Fake Tom Hanks aka Hemah’s face when we join the party.”
“Who is Tom Hanks?” Chamuel inquired.
Jennifer smiled at her counterpart. “I’ll tell you while we’re hiding.”
As they secured their spot, Shitty Ritchie darted over to me. “Would you like me to wish for Goober’s presence?”
“Yep,” I said. “But you do realize Its real name is Hemah. Right?”
Shitty Ritchie grinned. “Yes! Shitty Ritchie will pull that nugget of destruction out when it will burn Hemah’s asshole the most! We mustn’t let the enemy know about our finest ammunition until the enemy has exhausted Its own fucking supply!”
“I take back some of what I said about Shitty Ritchie’s brain matter,” Chamuel called out from underneath the couch.
“Roger that,” I called back.
“No worries, Chamuel!” Shitty Ritchie yelled.
“Shitty Ritchie uses his superior intellect to make his foes, and occasionally, by accident, his friends, think he’s an imbecile.
There are even times when I am not clear on my intelligence or lack thereof!
BUT Shitty Ritchie is excellent at being a dunderhead because deep, deep, deep, deep down in the sphincter muscle that opens up to send the blood to his heart, he is a boneheaded jackhole who loves his friends! ”
That made no sense whatsoever and at the same time it was spot on. I shook my head and grinned. Thankfully, the mold had been broken after Shitty Ritchie had come into existence. Or, at least, I hoped it had. I wasn’t sure the Universe could handle more than one.
Both Chamuel and Jennifer popped up from their hiding place to chastise Shitty Ritchie.
“Boy,” Jennifer warned, wagging her finger.
“I don’t wanna hear you talkin’ crap on yourself anymore.
You’re a wonderful, loving, outstanding little nut-ball of a man.
You do have an unhealthy obsession with your privates, but show me a man who doesn’t.
You be nice to yourself. You be as kind to yourself as you are to your friends or I’m gonna whoop ya. ”
“Jennifer speaks the truth,” Chamuel added.
“Especially the part about your infatuation with your parts. However, you clearly have a good and loving heart. That is a gift Hemah never possessed. You will embody vengeance in a way that upholds justice and vilifies evil. As appallingly disgusting as you are, I am most pleased to have made your acquaintance. It is an honor.”
“Back at you, Cheese Dick!” Shitty Ritchie bellowed with delight. “Is it okay if Shitty Ritchie calls you Cheese Dick?”
Chamuel winced. “Would it make you happy to do so, tiny man?”
Shitty Ritchie paused in thought. Rare for him.
“Shitty Ritchie wants to know if it makes you happy,” he told Chamuel.
“That matters to you?” It asked, surprised.
“Well sure!” Shitty Ritchie said. “Even though you tried to rip my head off, I forgive you! You’re my new friend. If it makes you sad that I call you Cheese Dick, I will not do it. Although, a nickname is a sign of endearment. You’re dear to me!”
Chamuel was speechless.
Shitty Ritchie was not. “We could always go with another loving nickname. Nardhole has a nice ring to it. Or Dingleberry, or Gooey Toe Jam, or Gassy Rump-Rump, or…”
Chamuel cleared Its throat loudly. Shitty Ritchie zipped it.
“If those are the choices, I shall stick with Cheese Dick,” Chamuel said in surrender. “I… thank you for the honor.”
“Not a problemo, Cheese Dick,” Shitty Ritchie said sweetly. “And if you’d like to give me a nickname, I would be thrilled.”
“I am quite sure nothing I could come up with would top Shitty Ritchie,” Chamuel choked out. “By the way, is that your real name?”
“It is!” Shitty Ritchie assured It. “I went for many centuries without a name at all. One day when I wasn’t on the run from Hemah trying to kill me, I found two pieces of paper in the trash in New Orleans on Bourbon Street.
One said shitty. And the other said Ritchie.
I took that as a sign from the Universe that I was loved enough to have a name.
From that day forward, I was Shitty Ritchie! And the rest is history.”