Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Getting back and out of Shitty Ritchie’s mind was a huge relief. It had been one hell of a ride and I had no plans to go back there any time soon, if ever.
As I’d said aloud before we’d left, only five minutes of real time had passed.
I was surprised that I was still chilled to the bone.
Gideon noticed immediately and wrapped me tightly in his arms. His warmth did wonders.
I leaned into him and breathed in his scent.
He was my rock. I needed the man I loved as much as I needed oxygen right now.
“I know where Alana Catherine is,” I told him, feeling my body tingle with excitement. His eyes grew wide and he squeezed me tighter. “I saw Uriel’s cage. Chamuel knows the location. It will lead us there along with Hemah.”
“Hemah?” Candy Vargo asked, looking around. “I don’t see that fucker anywhere.”
“Not to worry,” Shitty Ritchie said, dropping trou and stepping out of his pants. “I’m about to shit the shite out.”
“Oh my goodness,” Tim said, fanning himself with his hands. “Not sure I want to witness that.”
“Hang on a hot fuckin’ sec,” Candy Vargo grunted. “Do we know for sure that the nardass is dead? It would be really unappetizin’ to watch Shitty Ritchie to poop that bastard out only to have to eat It again. Not sure I could stomach that kind of crap—pun so fuckin’ intended.”
“Word,” I replied with a pained laugh. “Hemah’s dead—as in ghostly dead. The horrible thing is also pretty much broken.”
“Could you define broken?” Tim asked, pulling out his ever-present notebook.
“Shitty Ritchie?” I asked. “Can you field Tim’s question, please? We need to get a move on.”
“Shitty Ritchie is happy to,” he replied, standing in the forest in his underpants. “But first I’d like a moment of silence for the loss of my big dang dong.”
“Oh fuck no,” Candy Vargo muttered.
Shitty Ritchie either ignored her or didn’t hear her. If I had to guess, I’d go with didn’t hear. The little guy was too consumed with his loss.
“Yes,” the tiny dummy lamented. “The super-sized schlong was in my pants when I was in my mind. But alas, in real life my weenie is teeny. I know how everyone must feel. It’s a tragedy that will take all of us a long time to recover from.
Shitty Ritchie wants you to know that eventually, sometime in the very, very, very far future that he will get over the glorious moment in time when he had a substantial weewee.
” He stretched out the waistband of his undies and spoke directly to his junk.
“Don’t feel bad, Dave. I still love you. ”
“Dave?” Candy Vargo asked. “Who in the fuck is Dave?”
“Gotta be his dong,” Jennifer told her, trying not to laugh. “Dave the dong.”
“I’m still having a difficult time wrapping my head around the fact that Shitty Ritchie is one-third of the true Higher Power,” Chamuel said, floating over Jennifer’s shoulder.
“Get in line,” Candy told It.
“In closing,” Shitty Ritchie announced. “I will be hosting a dang dong party after we get my Alana Catherine back safe and sound. All are invited. It will be a potluck. No hotdogs will be served.”
“Mmmkay,” I said, wanting to get moving immediately. “Answer Tim’s question. Then crap Hemah out of your rump and let’s find Alana Catherine. Now.”
“Yes!” Shitty Ritchie yelled, saluting me.
“Timmy, Hemah is now my bitch. Its gonna follow orders. At my decree, Hemah will pay penance for Its crimes for millions of years. That smelly gashole has a lot to repent for. But we’re on the same fuckin’ page.
The slimy wanker knows that I’ll be watching every breath It takes, every fuckin’ move It makes, AND every ball-eating step It takes. I’m watching all that shit.”
“Why does that sound vaguely familiar?” Gideon asked.
“The Police,” I told him. “‘Every Breath You Take’. The stalker song that the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse played at our wedding.”
“Right,” he said. “Jesus Christ.”
“So,” Shitty Ritchie continued. “It’s perfectly safe to expel Hemah from my bunghole. Hemah will help Chamuel lead us to Uriel’s cage which will reunite us with our precious Alana Catherine.”
“Word to the wise,” Chamuel added. “Not to be the bearer of bad news, but Uriel is the worst of the three original Higher Powers. It was revealed when we were in Shitty Ritchie’s mind that Uriel was the mastermind of the takeover in the beginning.
Of course, Hemah double crossed and betrayed both me and Uriel, but it had originally been Uriel’s idea. ”
“Y’all kids were whacked,” Candy Vargo commented.
“Understatement,” Chamuel replied. “I want you to be prepared. Uriel is violent, underhanded and unpredictable. However, logic can be bested by logic.”
“Would you care to be a little more specific?” Tim asked politely.
Chamuel smiled sadly at him as It floated in the air. “If I could, I would. That is all I know.”
Shitty Ritchie’s tiny dong was swinging in the wind. He was in a full squat and grunting like he was about to pass a twelve-hundred-pound cow out of his ass rather than a weightless ghost. Granted, I’d never pooped anyone alive or dead out of my rear end. Technically, I wasn’t qualified to judge.
“Back up,” Shitty Ritchie shouted between grunts. “Hemah is gonna come out, but so is a couple of weeks-worth of fecal matter. And if anyone doesn’t know what that means, it means POOP!”
“Kill me now,” Candy grumbled.
“Can’t watch this,” Tim said, turning around. “While I appreciate the sacrifice, I simply can’t watch something I can never unsee.”
“Word,” I said, joining my buddy and turning away. The sounds Shitty Ritchie made were awful enough. I couldn’t imagine the visual. Actually, I’d rather imagine the visual than see the reality.
“Team Tim and Daisy,” Gideon said, turning his back on the action. “I’ve seen a lot of strange in my years, but this… I don’t need to see this.”
“Joinin’ you guys and gal,” Jennifer said, doing her best not to gag while lining up with the cool kids. “I kinda feel like I should watch since Shitty Ritchie’s my new coworker, but seeing a person get shot out of someone’s rumpus—coworker or not—just doesn’t feel right.”
Chamuel was with Jennifer. “My feelings are the same as my counterpart’s. While I do have an intellectual curiosity about what’s to occur, my sense of self-preservation outweighs my nosiness.”
In the end, Candy Vargo was the only person who stood by Shitty Ritchie and watched the expulsion. Of course, she’d eaten my siblings long ago and had pooped them out. Maybe, the entire process was normal to her.
I didn’t know how it could be, but I also couldn’t imagine eating anyone. But as Gram always said, it takes all kinds to make the merry-go-round go ‘round and be merry.
“Holy turds on a sharp fuckin’ stick,” Shitty Ritchie bellowed in between grunts. “Passing Hemah is like pooping Bigfoot.”
“How in the fuck would you know what crappin’ out Bigfoot feels like?” Candy Vargo argued.
“Because Shitty Ritchie has crapped out Bigfoot,” he screamed.
“Shut the front door,” Candy said with a cackle. “You ate Bigfoot?”
“I diiiiiiiiiiid,” he said on a long and uncomfortable sounding grunt. “Fucker tried to eat me, so I showed him who was the boss and it wasn’t Tony Danza!”
“Badass,” Candy Vargo told him. “I’d come over there and shake your hand if I wasn’t concerned that you’re gonna blow Hemah out any second and I’d get splattered with poo.”
“Bigfoot is real?” I asked, shocked.
No one answered.
“I’m going to be ill,” Tim said, covering his mouth and hoping for the best.
“Its COMING,” Shitty Ritchie shouted. “Hemah is coming out of my bunghole and into the light!”
“Question,” Jennifer said. “Not sure I want the answer, but I can’t help myself.”
“Ask,” Tim replied with his hand still over his mouth to catch the puke if it showed up.
“Is Shitty Ritchie’s little bottom going to be okay after this, or is it gonna be all stretched out?”
“I’m noping out of this,” Gideon said, walking far enough away from us that he could block out the words being spoken.
I almost followed but was too curious about the answer. Not that anyone in the group would know the answer, but still.
“That will have to be ascertained after the ejection has been completed,” Tim explained. “Of course, I’m not sure who will want to examine the expulsion site…”
“Not me,” I said quickly.
“Or me,” Jennifer added as Chamuel nodded Its head in fervent agreement.
“I shall not be volunteering for that task,” Tim said with a wince. “Maybe Candy Vargo will do it.”
“Candy Vargo will not examine Shitty Ritchie’s ass,” she called out. “Shitty Ritchie’s bunghole is on its own.”
“NO WORRIES,” the tiny dude in question shrieked. “My bunghole is like elastic. Back in the day, when I was more of a cannibal, my dookie discharger was always fine. And I pooped out BIGFOOT!”
Jennifer’s chin dropped to her chest and she gagged. “I truly wish I had not brought that up.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I choked out.
It took another ten minutes of grunting and swearing before the event was over.
The sound when Hemah was finally shot out from Shitty Ritchie’s bowels was explosive—like a dam of sewage that had been released after being stored for centuries.
Everyone except Chamuel took a quick throw up fieldtrip in the forest. The poor ghost wasn’t afforded the luxury of emptying the contents of Its stomach since It was technically dead. The smell was freaking rank.
“Run!” Shitty Ritchie bellowed. “Run away from the fecal matter.”
We were excellent at following orders. Candy Vargo led the escape. Gideon and I were right behind her, followed by Tim, Jennifer and Chamuel. Appropriately, Shitty Ritchie brought up the rear with the shell-shocked ghost of Hemah by his side.
It was only after we’d put a good ten miles between us and the fecal expulsion sight that we stopped running like our lives depended on it.
“Everyone, say hello to Hemah,” Shitty Ritchie announced. “It is on probation. What would you like to say to everyone, jackass?” Shitty Ritchie eyed Hemah expectantly. “AND BE FUCKING POLITE.”
Hemah floated in the air and looked as uncomfortable about being here as we were with having It here. “Hello,” It whispered, waving weakly with Its still limp and broken hand.
No one returned the greeting. It was just too weird. We were staring at the abomination who had done Its best to end all of us. Hemah had been the bane of the Universe’s existence for so long, it was difficult to believe It wasn’t still the same being.
Candy Vargo was the one to break the awkward silence. “You’re a dick.”
“Yes,” Hemah agreed.
“A despicable excuse for a person,” Tim added angrily. “The fact that you can do no more harm is the greatest gift the Universe has ever received.”
“Yes,” Hemah whispered. “This is true.”
“I don’t believe you mean that,” Gideon ground out through clenched teeth. “Leopards don’t change their spots.”
“Not to defend the fucker,” Shitty Ritchie said. “But most leopards didn’t get shot out of my bunghole with an audience watching.”
No one had the heart to tell him we hadn’t watched. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him in this case.
“Old Hemah isn’t going to live a life, or death, of happiness and sunshine,” Shitty Ritchie continued. “It gonna be ugly. Every fucking minute will be U. G. L. Y.”
I closed my eyes when I realized the little dude was still naked from the waist down. If I looked, I’d laugh. It wasn’t time to laugh. Shit was serious.
“Hold that thought,” Candy Vargo said, waving her hands in the air. “I can’t look at your pecker and take you seriously.”
In a small burst of glittering orange magic, the true Higher Power who represented vengeance was clothed again. He was now wearing itty-bity jeans, tennis shoes and an Atlanta Braves jersey. The look was absurd, but it was better than the alternative.
“And while I’m at it,” Candy said, waving her hands again.
The shimmering enchantment grew in size and rained down over all of us.
The ripped black leather disappeared. The Keeper of Fate had dressed us in black again, but it was our kind of duds.
Black combat pants, black long-sleeved shirts and black shit kickers.
It was comfortable and breathable. The leather, while respectful to the Fonzies, wasn’t great to wear.
Gideon clapped his hands and armed all of us with enough weapons to take down a small army.
We were only going after one individual, but Chamuel had warned us about Uriel.
We were not going in unprepared. We all possessed magic, but conventional weapons could slow an evil entity down. Any extra help was welcome.
Shitty Ritchie pulled Hemah out of the air by Its leg and went nose to nose with the ghost. For a hot sec I was surprised he could touch the ghost, then remembered the crazy little guy was the Higher Power. He, Jennifer and Alana Catherine possessed the gifts of all of the Immortals combined.
“How far are we from the crevasse where Uriel’s cage is?” he demanded. “And don’t send us on a wild goose chase or I’m gonna go ballistic on your transparent ass.”
Hemah nodded spastically. “A mile. To the east.”
I glanced at Chamuel. It nodded Its head in agreement.
So far, so good.
Gideon stepped forward. His eyes were bright red and his power vibrated off of him. “I can sense my daughter now. We will transport to her. That will ensure Uriel has no time to run if we make a surprise entrance. Walking in could be detrimental. My guess is the area’s booby trapped.”
“Wise prediction,” Chamuel said.
Hemah simply nodded.
“Touch me and hold on tight,” Gideon instructed flatly, extending both of his arms. “I will take us there.”
Without making a sound, we touched the Grim Reaper.
His skin was as hot as the ghost’s was cold.
It didn’t faze me. I take fire over ice any day of the week.
I could feel Alana Catherine too. My heart beat loudly in my chest and adrenaline pumped through my formerly frozen veins. It was time to end the madness.
“We’re coming, baby,” I whispered. “Hang on. Hang on until we get there.”
In an explosion of blinding black magic we left the bowels of the forest.
We were headed to the final battle.
And the best men, women and ghosts would win.
It was possible. We all believed. Belief would take us there.
It had to.