Hard to believe it’s been a year since we had the pomegranate-fueled monster baby boom. Very glad to have sorted that out. Of course, I’m still buried in snow in March, but I hiked down to the pomegranate tree yesterday to make sure the shield over it is holding. Fecund bugger is glowing like it’s inhabited by the Virgin fucking Mary herself and drooping with fruit. In March! Not a speck of snow around it. The shield is still holding though, so that’s good. I gave it a little boost. On my way back to the cabin I found a patch of Crocus vernis peaking out from under the snow. They are wonderful for divination. They have a particular talent for identifying thieves. Not something I need often, but you never know when a client will. So I harvested a few. I only took one bulb, though, that way the patch will still grow and thrive. Would be lovely to find some Crocus sativus in the autumn, but that might be hoping for too much, but it’s hard to get saffron these days what with The Holy War and all.
I was only around for the very late crusades, against the Ottoman Empire, but I can tell you they’re pointless and expensive. For some reason meatheads with swords really seem to love them. Back then the meatheads couldn’t actually end the world like they can today though, so that’s fun.
Crocuses.
Crocuses are nice.
Never been more happy to have Hell as my eternal destination. Lately I can’t help but wish He’d finally come and take me home. But I know if I’m here there must be a reason for it. Lucifer sees much more than I do, He has a plan, gnarled and twisted though it might seem. Every cog I destroy, weakens the machine. Our work must go on, we must continue to fight.
When I got back to the cabin a man was sitting in my Adirondack on the porch. Another cog, no doubt. The boys barked him right out of it. I’ll have to sanitize it later. Don’t need any gross spiritual energy clinging to my relaxing chair. He was a small, nervous type, with a faux-expensive look. Too young to be as bald as he was.
“Finally,” he whined, huddled against the porch railing, where the dogs had pinned him. He checked the enormous watch on his wrist. “I’ve been waiting for an hour.” Imagine being backed against a wall by two huge wolves and still being a prick.
“Should have made an appointment,” I said as I shrugged out of my coat.
“They said you don’t take appointments.”
“I don’t.” I kicked off my boots and looked at the dogs, “Keep him here for a bit.” I walked inside to the sound of him protesting and the dogs growling. I took my time with tea and had myself a little snack.
Then I let him in.
“You know you should breed those dogs, bet you’d make some serious money. I can see them in every mansion. I could do a little leg work for you if you’re interested in doing business together.”
“They’re wolves.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying, they’re like, tame though.” Geri and Frekki took mortal offense and started snarling at him. He tried to pet Geri and almost lost a hand. I raised an eyebrow. This man was not great at comprehending what was literally in front of him. It’s some form of psychosis, I swear, ignoring reality so you can still say whatever dumb thing is in your head. I sent the boys outside to cool off and sat him down.
“What can I help you with?”
“I have bad luck.”
“How do you know that?”
“I never win anything. I gamble all the time, play the lotto, never win.”
“Gambling is not about luck. And winning the lottery generally destroys people’s lives, not sure why you’d want to win it. Additionally, how much money do you spend on all this gambling?”
“Gambling is not about luck? Like you know anything.”
“Where do you gamble? Casinos? Because those places are rigged against you, has nothing to do with luck.”
“Online. There’s this place where you can bet on stuff besides games, like who’ll win an election, or whether two celebs’ll get married, if wars will start, how the world will end, if aliens will land before someone goes to prison, whether or not someone will get prison-“
“Ok, I get it. You are bad at being evil and would like some help.”
“What? No. That’s not what I said.”
“Yes it is.”
“I just have bad luck.”
“All of those things you just mentioned, you have to research to be able to win. But who bets on how the world will end? That’s… you know I was going to say sick, but actually it’s just pointless. In order to win, you’d have to be dead along with all the rest of us.”
“It’s just for fun, for people who don’t like sports. That’s all. I’m bad at cards, too.”
“So, how do you think the world will end?”
“What?”
“If you were going to bet, what would you bet on?”
“You have to give me options…”
“Swallowed by the sun, climate change triggers intense warming, or an ice age, nukes, pandemic, space clowns, space virus, what?”
“Space clowns.”
“See, you don’t have bad luck, you’re just an idiot.”
“Wow.”
“Well sometimes people need to hear it.”
“Can I revise my answer?”
“Already lost your money, you going to bet again?”
“Of course.”
“Idiot.”
“Space virus. Why would there be clowns who go to space and then come back to Earth? I didn’t think about that at first. Would be so cool though with their laser squirt guns. Pew pew pew.”
“I’m going to get you something that chases away bad spirits just to get rid of you, because I really don’t like you.”
“When you say chases away bad spirits…”
“Yeah it doesn’t bring you good luck, because that’s not a thing. Good luck is just preparedness, intuition, and timing. Bad luck, isn’t a thing either, it’s just bad decisions, never being prepared for anything, and having zero intuition…. and sometimes shit just happens. Then, sometimes, bad spirits are out to make your life suck. I don’t think that’s your problem, I think you’re an idiot, but maybe this will make you feel better for a while.”
He nodded along, not hearing anything I said. I went to my cabinet and got some Pittosporum tobira, a cute shrub that demons… and mosquitoes, hate. I put it in a little green amulet bag for him.
“Anyway, it has a scent bad spirits don’t like.”
“So what, I just hold it when I place bets?”
“Yeah, sure.” I was rummaging through the fridge, still feeling a little hungry.
“Do I need to like, blow on it or say anything?”
“Oh yeah, definitely, just say whatever comes to mind.”
He snatched the bag from my hand and held it up to the sunlight streaming through the window. “Hello my beautiful good luck charm!” He kissed it.
I bit my tongue and nodded, slamming the fridge door. “Ok, bye now.” I all but shoved him out of the cabin. The dogs chased him screaming down the hill. We all had cookies because we deserved it.
It didn’t take long. As soon as he got to his car and had cell reception back he thumbed open the betting app on his phone. I watched him through the obsidian ball. He kissed the amulet bag, for a long time, then rubbed it all over his face and all over his phone.
He started his car and pulled off the side of the road, setting his phone in its dash mount. He scrolled while he made his way down the winding mountain road, periodically rubbing the phone and his face with the amulet bag that was not for good luck, but instead to drive away bad spirits he didn’t have. Unfortunately, there’s just no magic or medicine for people who refuse to look anywhere but inward, at their own desires and experience. Say, at the road they’re driving on, for example. It isn’t bad luck if you’re on your phone, trying to bet on who will get raptured after The Holy War, and you miss a curve and your car barrels through a guard rail, sailing over a ridge and into a canyon. You might scream curses at the witch who gave you the good luck charm (not a good luck charm) you’re clutching, but the Universe knows the tally. The Universe knows you charge through life expecting everything, but never putting in the work. The Universe will put you in the bottom of a canyon in the belly of a hot, twisted metal beast. One lung exploded, your legs crushed, blood pouring from the gash in your head. One wrist shattered. Your phone screen a dark spiderweb. Cooling engine going tick tick tick. And that amulet bag, it’s sitting on the windshield as you hang upside down, it’s doing its job. Because there are bad spirits all over this mountain, they’re circling your steaming pile of metal and plastic, they smell your body shutting down, hear the choked gasps coming from your shattered mouth. But they can’t come anywhere near you.
Not that it matters.
You’re just about dead. Because you refused to really look at the world around you.
Brilliant - with really super dialogue too, lots of snap.
Ah yeah. Hell of a classic story.