Back to the Fuchsia (3 page)

Can’t Predict the Fuchsia

R
andy leaned his head into the kitchen’s doorway. “Coloring time?”

I selected a crayon from the waxy rainbow sea covering the kitchen table. “I have every color Crayola could possibly come up with. I think I’m close to finding the one I want, but they don’t exactly have the right tone.”

“So, which one is closest?”

“Fucks yeah.”

“Excuse me?”

“Fuck see ya?”

“What the hell kind of crayons are those, Gertie?”

Randy plucked the single purplish crayon from my hand. “Have you been sniffing glue? Fuchsia! This color’s pronounced few-sha!”

“Okay, fuchsia then. But not quite. It needs to be shaded toward Pink Flamingo, with a touch of Purple Pizzazz.”

“Fine. Gather up your crayons and go to Salem. I’m sure Cosmos can get the paint mixed to your liking. Just remember, you’ll need to have some lighter colors, too. If you paint every square inch of this kitchen in purply-pizzazz-pink-flamingo-fuck-see-ya, you’ll go insane.”

Randy turned around and made it back to the door in three brisk steps. “Brad! Come see what color paint they use in Hell.”

“What’s this?” Brad took the crayons and held them up to the light. “Fuck see ya, I think.”

“Oh God. You, too? Listen carefully, fuchsia. It’s pronounced few-sha, and Gertie here has decided that the kitchen should be painted as purple as Barney’s asshole.”

“Really? Barney the Dinosaur? I didn’t even know he had an asshole.” Brad shrugged and handed the crayon back to me. “Maybe it’s a bit over the top, Sunshine.”

My mouth nearly hit the floor. Like a defiant kindergartner striking a stoic pose, I held my crayons high. “You’ll see, once I get the exact color paint mixed.” I stomped over to the silverware drawer and took out my miniature broom. “Let’s go get some paint, boys.”

“Ah, not so fast, Gertie. The station had three calls last night. I’d like to get a few hours of sleep. It’s still early enough. How about we go this afternoon?”

Randy slapped his hand on my shoulder. “Yeah, let the poor boy rest. God knows he won’t get any sleep tonight. Besides, I’m not going anywhere, we have guests checking in.”

“Guests?”

“Yeah. That tour group from the U.K.”

“Wait, you mean that entire coven of witches from Wales? That’s this weekend? Are you ready?”

Randy shooed away my concerns with a prima donna flick of his wrist. “Please. I’m always prepared. I told you, this is going to be the most efficiently run bed and breakfast in the South. I’ve got the Ghost Tour of the French Quarter scheduled. Thanks to Marie Laveau, the guide will be an authentic ghost. She even put together a Voodoo ceremony and a swamp tour. I scrubbed down Olaf’s smelly dragon hide and cleaned up Becky the Nessie’s lair. You already have all the other beasties in good order, so I’m not even concerned with them. Now, go on to Salem without us. Have fun with your crayons.”

Randy strolled out of the room. Brad gave me a kiss and headed up to bed.

“I guess it’s just you and me, Darcy girl.”

I looked around and it seemed like even my cat had abandoned me. I noticed my canvas tote bag swinging on the door handle. A black cat’s tail hung out of the top, twitching with anticipation.

“Aha! You’re all set to go shopping.” With a quick shake of my broom, I changed into a short sleeveless lime green dress, a pair of knee-high tangerine vinyl boots, and a matching floppy-brimmed sunhat.

Now, as everyone knows, you can’t use regular broom travel for a trip to magical Salem, only a portal will do. Fortunately, Esmerelda had created a portal at the Witches Union office.

Another shake of my broom and a quick incantation took Darcy and me straight to the lobby of the Union office. “Portal, portal. Now where is that portal again?”

“I’ve seen a lot of things come through this lobby, but never a giant slice of cantaloupe.”

“Ezzy? What are you doing here on a Sunday morning?”

“Marie. She agreed to set up some last minute tours for the helpless bonehead who has some guests coming into town, so of course I was pulled into this mess. She’s taking care of the Voodoo ceremony and the haunted swamp tour. I’ve got to find a ghost available and willing to take these witches around New Orleans to check out all of the famously haunted places. What are you doing here?”

“Using the portal. I have some shopping to do in Salem.”

“Good. I’m going with you. I need to disappear for a while. Ghosts—Goddess help me! Hard to believe, but some people are bigger pains in the ass dead than they were when they were alive.”

“Great, I’m glad you’re tagging along! You’re always pleasant company, Ezzy.”

“Oh please. Lies like that will ruin my reputation.” Ezzy opened one of the several oak panel doors that comprised the wall behind her desk.

“Give me a second to get into something suitable for Salem.” I’m sure I blushed when Ezzy stripped and looked at me. “Hmm. Let’s see, what would make us look good together.”

She selected a lacy peach dress and white shoes. “That will work. Now, let’s see what kind of mischief a couple of redhead witches can get into, shall we?”

“Oh, I really didn’t have mischief on my list. Just paint—maybe a few things to match the new colors in my kitchen.”

“Of course. No mischief.” Her eyes glistened and her lip formed a sly smile. “That’s what they all say.” With a wink, she took my hand and together we walked into the closet and through a shimmering portal to an alternate magical dimension.

Shopping in Salem

“
T
here it is.” I skipped across the cobblestone street, unintentionally leaving Ezzy behind.

“Sorry, baby. I don’t skip, scurry or hurry. Where are you going?”

“Cosmos’ hardware store. I need some paint.” I was already at the door, my hand waiting to open the glass door. “I’ll wait.”

“So kind,” Ezzy muttered, stepping onto the sidewalk behind me. “Why buy paint from an old fool like Cosmos? You know the old codger, he’s just going to try to feel you up.”

“Because the paint I want is a special shade of fuck—errr, fushi—I don’t know how to say it properly. Anyway, it’s a special purplish red.”

I opened the door and we walked into the dimly lit store. Ezzy hacked an obviously fake cough. “Gods. What does he sell here? Dirt?”

I knew right where the paint mixing counter was along the back wall.

“Cosmos? Hello!”

I called repeatedly, but there was no answer.

“Quiet as a titmouse on a tightrope. I don’t get it.”

Just then I noticed Cosmos’ familiar purple ankle length robe and his wizard’s hat, with the flaccid point, hanging from the coat hooks in his small office.

Ezzy spied a cobweb cloaked bell on the counter and slapped it repeatedly.

“I’d hate to run across the spider who controls this bell. Ugh.”

Ezzy shook a long webby string of dust and grime from her hand.

“Disgusting.”

The air crackled.

Ezzy nearly popped out of her shoes, falling back on me. Green phosphorescent letters appeared on the counter.

“If you’re reading this, I’m not here! Gone skinny dipping down at the river with some hot ass witches. If you’re a hot ass witch, come down and join in. Otherwise, help yourself to what you need. Just write it down. Be careful! Not all magic is suitable for all witches.”

“Well…” My hands rested on my hips, I glanced at the hundreds of paint cans. Almost all of them weren’t labeled. If they were, it was buried in a thin coat of rust. “Do you think we should go down to the river and ask him what paints to mix?”

“Really? The river? Only if you want to see Cosmos and his geriatric buddies, in all their pink wrinkly glory, splashing around. God almighty, it’d be like seeing a bathtub full of naked mole rats.”

“I suppose you’re right, Ezzy.” A stray thought ricocheted through my head. “Have you given naked mole rats a bath before? And why would you?”

Ezzy’s face swiftly lost all muscle tone. She wasn’t about to answer. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. Maybe we can pop back in when Cosmos gets back.”

“Forget it. He’s seven hundred years old, and I bet the witches he’s with are equally as old. Folks that old move like snails. That orgy could take days, maybe even weeks, to complete. Just grab some bottles of tints and a few cans of base paint. I bet you could mix and match them at home. We even have an old spell book at the Union office that you can borrow. It’s all about paint. I bet with a little magic, you can make exactly what you want.”

“Okay. Would you hold my tote open? I’ll toss a bunch in.” Ezzy held open the bag while I used my wand to trace a pentagram. I sang out the spell to make my tote bag bottomless.

“Carry, carry, conceal and carry. I’ll shove it in, thick or thin. You’ll take it all, make it small, like it’s nothing at all.”

Ezzy arched one eyebrow and stared at me. “Excellent spell. Really useful. Good work. But, Gertie, seriously girl, you need to work on your spell-writing. Where do you get your lines? The comments on porn sites? That was horrendous.”

“But effective,” I replied, lowering bottles of tint and cans of paint into the seemingly bottomless tote bag. “I can carry an entire day’s shopping in my magic tote and all of it together won’t take up more space than a handkerchief. When I get home, I just flop it down. Poof! Everything grows to original full size.”

“That’s what he said.” Finally smiling, Ezzy peered into the depths of the tote bag. “Have you ever seen what happens to the things you’ve put in your bag? It’s like an abyss, just darkness.”

She slowly dipped her hand deep into the tote, cautiously probing around for the paint cans. Ezzy must have touched something frightening because she jerked her hand out like she’d been bitten. “That felt very odd. I hope you’re careful with this magic. Who knows what could happen.” Ezzy’s eyes seemed to be a bit glazed. I figured she had simply scared herself.

“No. Once I toss my spoils in, I don’t worry about them until I get home. It sure works great, but to be honest, I’m afraid to put my hand in there when it’s enchanted. After I reverse the spell, it’s just a normal tote bag.”

I hoped I was right. Ezzy’s cautionary words and her weird reaction weren’t disconcerting enough for me to dwell on the frightening thought that I may have created a portable black hole.

I was ready to move on. “I think I have more than enough. I’m just disappointed that I couldn’t get the paint mixed up right here.”

“No worries. Like I told you, a little magic and it’ll be better than anything Cosmos could ever concoct.”

We left the dusty store and window shopped for a block. The sight of a mother and daughter witch combo exiting the shop across the street caught my attention.

“Ooh, Build-A-Were! I can’t wait to have a little girl. We’ll go into Build-A-Were and make the cutest little were-bears, or were-bats.”

“A little girl, you say? That’s very sweet. I could see you with your very own little mini-me skipping along together. But first, you must choose a daddy.”

“What do you mean? There’s no question who my child’s father will be. It’s going to be Rand—Brad.”

I gasped at my nearly wrong answer. If you could have seen the mental image I had of me kicking the hell out of my brain, you would understand. What the hell was wrong with me? Did I almost say Randy?

Ezzy was already peeking through the window of another shop. “Ah, Nirvana. Come on, Gertie. Let me show you what fun really is.”

I was relieved that she seemed distracted enough by finding a store of her liking, I figured she completely missed what I said.

I was wrong.

“You know, Gertie, your initial answer was Randy. We’ll have to talk about that.”

“Of course, you’d never miss a chance to take full advantage of a slip of the tongue.”

“HmHmm. In more ways than one, sweetheart.” She smacked my butt cheek, ushering me into the store.

I took one step inside. My eyes darted around the store. I froze mid-stride, beholding one horrific device after another. I could have sworn I’d just stepped into a medieval torture chamber.

Chains and restraints of all sorts swung from racks and boards. There was even a large wooden pillory—you’ve seen them in pictures, those wooden contraptions that locked a criminal’s head and arms down so they could be put on a humiliating display in the town square.

A leather masked male mannequin was restrained in the brutal apparatus. A masked female mannequin stood in the shadows behind him. Even more mannequins, at various intervals, lined the walls.

“What is this? A museum? I certainly hope these things aren’t being used in Salem.”

“You have so much to learn, Gertie. Now get moving.”

Kinky Hex

I
stepped forward, cautiously. I had to convince myself the menacing, leather-harnessed, whip-toting figures were nothing more than harmless plastic.

By the time I got to the pillory, I had a better view of the faux couple. Other than the leather mask, the man wore nothing more than a leather strap ensemble that held his little cock in a tiny silver cage. If that wasn’t bad enough, his bare arse stuck out like he was about to take a paddling.

The cage. I couldn’t get over it. It terrified me and made me intensely curious at the same time.

“Merciful hour! Would you look at that poor lad’s spunkpumper? The poor thing is squeezed into a wire cage! Just like a pig in a poke. Now that’s torture.”

“You have to understand something. This is not torture. It’s erotic. It’s sex for refined, cultured people. And for your information, a lot of men want to be dominated by a woman.”

I pointed at the female mannequin. “Is that what she’s doin’?” The female figure was no less shocking. Her black shiny corset squeezed her boobs through a pair of holes. Pain—it was the only word that came to mind. Around her waist was a leather harness specially designed to hold something. A thing so shocking and ridiculous, there’s no decent words to describe it, so I’ll speak plainly.

She had a big rubber pecker strapped to her waist, and that thing stood at attention like the best of them. I flicked the end of the wobbly pink toy and broke out in laughter.