Mike Wallace's Supernatural Bar & Grill 5: The Final Chapter
By The Wordmaster
"Oh, what a day it's been," Pope John Paul the Second sighed as he collapsed on
his sofa. One of the Vatican's innumerable servants quickly rushed to attend
him.
"Do you need anything, Your Holiness?"
"No, no, I'm fine. Just a little worn out from today's service. All I want now
is to..." The Pope suddenly froze, staring off into the distance.
"Your Holiness? What is it?" the servant worriedly asked.
"My Pope sense is tingling," replied John Paul. "To the Popemobile!"
Wait a minute, I forgot to do my introduction! Everyone's favorite part! The
section where I get to make various witty and enlightening remarks! Lemme start
over...
Well, here we go again. Another Wordmaster story. I'd like to take this time to
address the two questions everyone's been asking:
Will there be more? Possibly. This one's oddly sex-free, but it's got a few
Crunch 'n' Munch scenes and a couple of jokes. Definitely not my best work, but
I hope ya like it.
Will The Archive ever reopen? Maybe if you all close your eyes real tight, tap
your heels together, clap with all your might, and believe with all your heart!
Or if anybody can give me reason beyond "Hey, man, your site was the best." So,
without further ado, SB&G 5.
Mike Wallace's Supernatural Bar & Grill 5: The Final Chapter
By The Wordmaster
"Oh, what a day it's been," Pope John Paul the Second sighed as he collapsed on
his sofa. One of the Vatican's innumerable servants quickly rushed to attend
him.
"Do you need anything, Your Holiness?"
"No, no, I'm fine. Just a little worn out from
WE INTERRUPT THIS STORY TO BRING YOU FURTHER ADO
OK, I lied. Props to my good buddy AbsoluteBeginner for helping me get off my
ass and write this thing. All right, let's take it from the top!
Mike Wallace's Supernatural Bar & Grill 5: The Final Chapter
By The Wordmaster
"Oh, what a day it's been," Pope John Paul the Second sighed as he collapsed on
his sofa. One of the Vatican's innumerable servants quickly rushed to attend
him.
"Do you need anything, Your Holiness?"
"No, no, I'm fine. Just a little worn out from today's service. All I want now
is to..." The Pope suddenly froze, staring off into the distance.
"Your Holiness? What is it?" the servant worriedly asked.
"My Pope sense is tingling," replied John Paul. "To the Popemobile!"
Leaping to his feet and dashing down the hallway, the Pope slid down the
Popepole to the hidden, underground Popecave. He raced to the bulletproof
Popemobile, tearing along the Vatican's underground tunnel system to his secret
lair. Passing retinal scans and fingerprint checkpoints, he entered the central
intelligence sector. Booting up the Popeputer, he scanned the sacred texts, his
mind working feverishly to cross-reference dates, times, and events. Windows
opened and closed like magic as his fingers raced over the keyboard. Finally, a
single message lit the enormous screen, spanning the length of the wall:
SHE IS COMING
The Pope frowned, mouthing the words to himself. Then he nodded, just once, shut
down the computer, and made his way back to his chambers.
***
"So I was thinking maybe we'd take out the jukebox and put in a big screen TV.
Then, if we tore down this wall and moved the bar back a bit, we could put a
couch down, maybe a couple bean bag chairs, set up a little entertainment
center, y'know for football games and stuff. Sound good?"
The hobgoblin crew stared blankly at Mike as he rattled off his directions.
Never moving, never speaking, they might have been made of stone. Mike didn't
seem worried in the least. He continued talking, gesturing left and right as he
laid out the plans for the renovation of the SB&G. Finally he concluded and
looked expectantly at the foreman.
The foreman returned his gaze, cogitating a moment before responding. "Thirty
thousand," he grated.
"Thirty thousand?" Mike exclaimed. "What the hell kind of estimate is that? This
job can't possibly cost more than fifteen!"
"Twenty-five," croaked the foreman.
"Twenty-five? You do realize who I am, right? I'm Mike Wallace! I own the best
damn bar in the universe! I'm friends with angels, demons, martians, genies! For
cryin' out loud, I could get some of my pals to magic this place just the way I
want it for free! What makes you think you deserve twenty-@#%$-five thousand?"
The hobgob stared a moment, his frog-like face showing a level of emotion
generally reserved for stones and IRS agents. "Twenty."
Mike glowered, his acne-riddled face darkening in rage. "Fifteen and a free
round of drinks."
"Done," exclaimed the foreman, cracking the first smile of the night.
***
The Lord was troubled. And when The Lord was troubled, everyone was troubled.
Angels sighed despondently. If their source was unhappy, they were unhappy. All
day long, He had been moping about His room, refusing to come out. The angels
knocked and knocked at his door, but nothing they said would convince Him. His
dinner was stone cold, and The Lord had never missed a meal in all of eternity.
Michael, Gabriel, and the rest of the Archangels stood outside The Lord's door,
wings fluttering in agitation. None had spoken a word for hours; there was no
need. They knew all too well how the others felt. A creaking sound drew their
attention. The massive, majestic door to The Almighty's bedroom was opening! He
shuffled out, robes billowing, and stood before his servants. The angels fell to
their knees and wept upon seeing his face. Usually bright and smiling, today it
was grim and haggard. The Archangels stood trembling, awaiting The Lord's words.
A sigh sounding like the roaring of the waves escaped His lips. "It's gotta go,"
he said.
The Archangels exchanged a glance. "W-what, O Lord?" queried Raphael.
"That bar. I've tolerated it long enough, but when it begins to corrupt My
servants, well..." he turned and walked back to his room.
"What bar? What's He talking about?" asked Michael.
Gabriel swallowed hard and stared guiltily at the floor. "I dunno," he lied.
"But, what do you think He's gonna do? I mean, He wouldn't... y'know... smite
it? Would He?"
Michael stared at him. "Are you kidding? Ever read Psalm 18?"
Gabriel paled. He whirled and knocked on the door. "Um... ahem... Lord? H-how
shall we... I mean, will You... uh... that is..." he trailed off, unable to
finish.
"No," boomed The Voice. "I'm not in the mood. Send My Daughter."
***
Mike exited his beloved bar with a sigh. A chill breeze whipped through the air,
causing him to tighten his jacket around his frame. He sighed, gazing about his
dismal surroundings. To the left, the shimmering, surreal plane of Nirvana.
Colors swirled about, reds, yellows, blues, and others never seen by the human
eye. It was nice to look at, but much duller than people were led to believe.
Good tunes, though. To the right, the bleak grayness of Purgatory, where
forgotten souls toiled night and day as penance for their sins, desperately
trying to earn their way into heaven. Heaven. Mike turned his gaze upwards to
the cloudy kingdom. He frowned in confusion, noticing Heaven's normally light
and fluffy cumulonimbus gates looked a little heavier than normal. The Big Guy
must be up to something, Mike thought to himself. A sudden voice made him jump.
"Hey, Mike! Down here!"
A tiny figure stood before him, barely knee-high. Dressed in bright green,
clutching a pipe in one hand and a four-leaf clover in the other, Lucky smiled
at his long time friend.
"Hey, Lucky!" Mike grinned. "Haven't seen you in a while."
"Yeah, I got tied up. But now I'm here to spend some time with my best bud and
his best brew. Whaddaya say?"
"Geez, I'd love to help ya out, Lucks, but the bar's closed for renovation.
We'll be opening up tomorrow."
Lucky's face fell. "Tomorrow? I dunno if I can wait that long, Mike. I'm dying
for a drink."
Mike chuckled. "You Irish always are. Come back in the morning. I'll be waiting
for ya."
Lucky waved and walked into the night, leaving Mike alone with his thoughts.
Sounds of hammering and cursing emanated from the building behind him, telltale
signs that hobgoblins were at work. Mike stood a while longer, looking up into
the sky. Not at the Eternal Kingdom, but at a tiny blue-green pebble that
hovered a bit lower. "Earth," he commented to no one in particular. "It's been a
while." He stared until his eyes blurred with tears and he couldn't see. The
hobgob crew inside paused a moment, thinking they heard something that almost
sounded like sobbing.
***
News travels fast throughout the various planes of existence, and everybody who
was anybody heard Mike Wallace's had a brand new look. Folks of all kinds lined
up to be the first inside. Mike was no newbie to the hosting biz, and he
purposely let them linger outside a bit before throwing wide the doors and
letting his patrons clamber in. They oohed and ahed his new decor,
congratulating Mike for selecting it and the hobgobs (who stood at the bar
enjoying their free round) for installing it. True to form, Mike made his rounds
with his usual cheery attitude, serving drinks and appetizers to all. And also
true to form, old friends dropped by to visit.
First to come was Lucky the Leprechaun (understandable, as he did have a bit of
a headstart), who sat upon the bar and danced an Irish jig to work up the funds
to buy a pint. The crowd's attention was diverted from his act when Demonica and
Lydia arrived arm in arm, the former wanting to buy her new lover a drink to
celebrate her being granted full demon status. "She gives new meaning to the
phrase 'demon in the sack'," Demonica said with a leer and a wink. The two then
kissed passionately, rousing hoots and hollers from their audience. Delivering
an order of buffalo wings to a table, Mike was dive bombed by a familiar face:
Priscilla the Pixie. The scintillating six-inch sexpot kissed him soft as
butterfly wings, then reached into her cleavage to reveal none other than Mike's
shrunken ex-roommate Sven, whom she introduced as her new husband. A round was
immediately ordered in celebration. While Mike rooted in the back for a fresh
keg to tap, he came across a small lamp with a sign reading "Rub Me." With a wry
grin, he released his long-time friend Sam the genie, who immediately launched
into a tale that grabbed everyone's attention. The music was thumping, the dance
floor was hopping, the booze was flowing, and everyone agreed it was the
greatest night Mike Wallace's had ever seen.
Until...
From the front of the bar there arose such a clatter. Mike rushed to the
entrance to see what was the matter. Leaning heavily against the door frame,
gasping for breath, face flushed and wings fluttering, was Gabriel.
"Hey, Gabe," Mike greeted the Archangel cheerily. "C'mon in. We'll get you a
drink and a..."
"Mike," Gabriel panted, "There's no time. You've gotta get out of here!"
"What?" Mike asked, confused.
"She's coming!"
"Who's coming?"
"SHE is coming! God's daughter."
Mike stared at his friend a moment, then burst into laughter. "Wow, Gabe, you
really had me going for a sec. Now, let's get you fixed up with a nice martini."
Gabriel shoved him away. "Listen to me, dammit! This place is on God's hit list.
You corrupted Lydia, and He wants revenge. But the whole 'fire from the heavens'
bit never comes easy to Him, so He sent His daughter. And that means you're in
trouble."
"Aw, c'mon, Gabe. You've seen the folks I deal with here. How bad could some
little girl be?"
"She's not just some little girl, Mike. Imagine an 18-year-old, sex-starved,
spoiled brat with a short attention span and all the powers of heaven. That
spells 'trouble' with a capital T!"
Mike stared at Gabriel's face. One look into the angel's eyes showed him this
was serious. A thundering boom from outside confirmed it. "@#%$," he breathed as
another dull boom echoed from outdoors. "All right, everyone listen up!" he
shouted over the din. Clambering onto a table, he waved his arms wildly. "Excuse
me! Ladies, gentlemen, and others! We have a situation!" Upon hearing his
shouts, and more importantly the noise of what was plainly approaching
footsteps, silence fell upon the bar. "I'd like to ask you all to quietly and
calmly make your way to the nearest exit," Mike was screaming himself hoarse to
be heard above the thundering. "And then run..." The floor began shaking.
"...like..." Dishes rattled on tables; people staggered about, unable to keep
their balance. "...hell!"
***
She was gigantic. Titanic. Beyond huge. By the time Mike's warning had reached
the bar, She was already standing outside, Hser toes blocking the exits. People
ran about Her feet like ants, yelling in fear and staring upwards, trying to
make out anything beyond Her kneecaps. She was so enormous, She did not even
exist as a woman to the tiny insects on the ground beneath her. She was a force
of nature. Earthquakes rocked the ground with Her every step. Tornadoes whipped
about, stirred up by Her movements. Her voice was thunder, Her body a mountain.
She stopped moving, but the rumbling noises continued. The crowd, paralyzed,
stood staring upwards in amazement as She began to shrink. She dwindled from Her
awe-inspiring height until She stood several hundred feet tall. At last, the
tiny people could see Her face. She was beautiful beyond words. And then She
spoke.
"Guess ya'll couldn't hear me before, huh?" She giggled. "I sometimes forget how
puny you little things are." She sighed and tossed her hair over her shoulder.
"Well, My Daddy sent me here to smash this little building up some," She tapped
the SB&G with a titanic toe. Cracks radiated from the center of the impact. "But
I don't see why I should stop there. You all are naughty little sinners," Her
face lit up with a smile. "And My Family doesn't much care for you. And you know
what that means..."
Chaos ensued.
She reached down and scooped up a handful of people. She stared at them
squirming in Her palm for a moment, then squeezed Her hand into a fist. The
screams and crunching sounds were hideous, and the blood oozed and dripped from
between Her fingers. Then She reached for some more.
Her feet were just as deadly, stomping those She did not deign to reach for into
paste. She teased Her prey, herding them about with Her gigantic toes. When She
tired of hearing them beg, She simply stepped on them. Huge divets were gouged
up by Her steps, leaving craters and ditches behind.
It was in one of these ditches that our heroes huddled...
***
"What do we do, Mike? What do we do?" Lucky hissed.
"How the @#%$ should I know? I ain't got all the answers! I'm a bartender!" came
the hysterical response.
"Now, calm down. There's no need for scenemaking. She's got that pretty well
covered," Sven's deep bass voice rumbled. Or it would, if he weren't a half inch
tall. "Honey, I fear I won't be of much use at this reduced size. Would you
mind?"
"Sorry, sugar," Priscilla grinned sheepishly. Sprinkling a pinch of pixie dust
onto him, she watched him swell and grow to his seven-foot plus, muscular frame.
"Any ideas, Demonica?" Mike whispered.
"Why the hell are you whispering. Do you really think She's paying attention?"
She gestured to the towering titaness, who was busy squashing their friends and
companions.
"Look, I just thought that as a woman you might have some idea as to what we
could do."
"There's nothing we can do," Lydia's gentle voice interjected. "She's not acting
as a woman, she's acting as a goddess. This is a holy display of power,
eliminating the unworthy."
"She certainly seems to be enjoying it," smirked Lucky. "Check that out!"
"Now, stop that!" Lydia admonished. "What she's feeling is nothing like what we
feel. It's like lust, but a thousand times stronger. And there's no way to
combat that."
"No way, huh?" Sam said. "Well, I don't know bout all of you, but I ain't never
met a woman I couldn't handle." He swelled with pride. Actually, he just
swelled. Growing and growing, he stepped from his hiding spot to confront Her.
His ditch-dwelling companions shouted for him to stop, but Sam was set on his
course. He continued walking towards Her, growing all the while, until he
matched her height. She had Her back turned, tormenting another handful of
"sinners." Sam reached out and tapped Her on the shoulder. Before he could say
anything, She whirled about and slapped him full across the face. Sam cried out
and stumbled back.
"Well, well. A little mortal thinks being big gives him a chance against Me?
Well, it's time you learned size isn't everything." She drove Her fist into
Sam's gut. He doubled over, the breath whooshing out of his lungs. As he gasped
for air, she gripped his face in Her hands. "Awww... did I hurt the big bad
genie? Good," She smiled wickedly. She squeezed harder, and Sam yelled in pain.
And then, before everyone's eyes, he began to fade. Before long, he was gone.
Sven leapt up from the ditch. "You bitch!" he shouted. "What did You do to him?"
She leveled Her gaze at the tiny man shouting up to Her. "He is gone. Just like
you soon will be." She raised Her foot above him and swiftly brought it down.
Then she levelled her gaze on the group hiding in the ditch.
Priscilla sobbed when she heard her husband crunch. We sobbed when we heard her
go, pressed between the finger and thumb of the giantess. Demonica and Lydia
died in each other's arms, sharing one last sweet kiss.
"And then there were two..." Her voice rumbled. She brought Her hand closer to
Her face, examining Her little captives who lay beside pools of gore that were
once their best friends. "Hey, aren't you the guy who owned this dump? Started
all this trouble in the first place?"
In the presence of certain death, fear seems to disappear. "What's it to You,
You big bitch?"
She laughed. "Poor, poor Mike Wallace. Never stood a chance. You're not an
immortal. Not a supernatural being. Just a little human bug who had some bad
luck. Well, hey, I'll do you a favor. I'll remove the curse that's keeping you
forever young." She waved a hand dramatically. "There. All done."
Lucky turned to Mike to say something, anything, but found Mike wasn't there. At
least, not the Mike he knew. A fortysomething year old man sat next to him,
staring at his hands, clawing desperately at his face. "W-what's happening?" he
shrieked. Wrinkles appeared, varicose veins popped out, his hair greyed.
"Mike!" Lucky yelled, scurrying towards his rapidly aging friend. It was too
late. Mike was gone. A wasted, old man lay staring up at Lucky, trying feebly to
breathe. Struggling to speak, he exhaled one final breath. Soon, Lucky found
himself cradling a pile of dust. With fire in his eyes, he rose to his feet.
"You -- You --" he sputtered, unable to find something to say. "I'll... I'm
gonna... So help me God..."
"YES?" boomed a Voice.
Lucky whirled and was blinded by the Light that met his eyes. Cowering in the
palm of the giantess, he struggled to see just who was speaking.
"NOW, DAUGHTER. I SEND YOU TO DO A SIMPLE JOB AND YOU GET CARRIED AWAY. REMEMBER
THAT TALK WE HAD?"
"Yes, Daddy," She replied, hanging her head in shame.
"NOW, YOU PUT THAT LITTLE GUY DOWN AND HEAD STRAIGHT HOME. I'LL BE THERE IN A
MOMENT TO DEAL WITH YOU."
Sniffling a bit, She did as Her Father instructed.
The Lord sighed heavily. "TODAY'S YOUTH NEVER LEARNS..." He grumbled. Then He
waved His hand, and everything dissolved and faded to black...
***
I awoke outside my bar. Or, where my bar used to be. Now, it was an empty field
with a sign: "Mike Wallace's Supernatural Bar & Grill: Closed For Renovation." I
looked about in confusion, struggling to remember how I got here or what had
happened. The events of the previous day were a blur. I rolled over and bumped
into Sam. He groaned as he rose to his feet.
"Man, my head is killin' me. How 'bout a drink, Mike?"
"Apparently I'm out of the drink serving game." I gestured to the field. Sam
looked just about as confused as I felt. From the tall grass, forms were rising,
shaking off the effects of a long sleep and some pretty nasty nightmares. One by
one, they started to drift off. Sven and Priscilla said their goodbyes. Demonica
and Lydia did the same. Sam wandered off after Gabriel, who wore a very guilty
expression. Soon, it was just me and Lucky.
"So, what now?" The Leprechaun asked.
"Dunno, Lucks," I replied. "The SB&G was nice, but I think it's time to take a
vacation." I looked into the heavens again,
News travels fast throughout the various planes of existence, and everybody
who was anybody heard Mike Wallace's had a brand new look. Folks of all kinds
lined up to be the first inside. Mike was no newbie to the hosting biz, and he
purposely let them linger outside a bit before throwing wide the doors and
letting his patrons clamber in. They oohed and ahed his new decor,
congratulating Mike for selecting it and the hobgobs (who stood at the bar
enjoying their free round) for installing it. True to form, Mike made his rounds
with his usual cheery attitude, serving drinks and appetizers to all. And also
true to form, old friends dropped by to visit.
First to come was Lucky the Leprechaun (understandable, as he did have a bit of
a headstart), who sat upon the bar and danced an Irish jig to work up the funds
to buy a pint. The crowd's attention was diverted from his act when Demonica and
Lydia arrived arm in arm, the former wanting to buy her new lover a drink to
celebrate her being granted full demon status. "She gives new meaning to the
phrase 'demon in the sack'," Demonica said with a leer and a wink. The two then
kissed passionately, rousing hoots and hollers from their audience. Delivering
an order of buffalo wings to a table, Mike was dive bombed by a familiar face:
Priscilla the Pixie. The scintillating six-inch sexpot kissed him soft as
butterfly wings, then reached into her cleavage to reveal none other than Mike's
shrunken ex-roommate Sven, whom she introduced as her new husband. A round was
immediately ordered in celebration. While Mike rooted in the back for a fresh
keg to tap, he came across a small lamp with a sign reading "Rub Me." With a wry
grin, he released his long-time friend Sam the genie, who immediately launched
into a tale that grabbed everyone's attention. The music was thumping, the dance
floor was hopping, the booze was flowing, and everyone agreed it was the
greatest night Mike Wallace's had ever seen.
Until...
From the front of the bar there arose such a clatter. Mike rushed to the
entrance to see what was the matter. Leaning heavily against the door frame,
gasping for breath, face flushed and wings fluttering, was Gabriel.
"Hey, Gabe," Mike greeted the Archangel cheerily. "C'mon in. We'll get you a
drink and a..."
"Mike," Gabriel panted, "There's no time. You've gotta get out of here!"
"What?" Mike asked, confused.
"She's coming!"
"Who's coming?"
"SHE is coming! God's daughter."
Mike stared at his friend a moment, then burst into laughter. "Wow, Gabe, you
really had me going for a sec. Now, let's get you fixed up with a nice martini."
Gabriel shoved him away. "Listen to me, dammit! This place is on God's hit list.
You corrupted Lydia, and He wants revenge. But the whole 'fire from the heavens'
bit never comes easy to Him, so He sent His daughter. And that means you're in
trouble."
"Aw, c'mon, Gabe. You've seen the folks I deal with here. How bad could some
little girl be?"
"She's not just some little girl, Mike. Imagine an 18-year-old, sex-starved,
spoiled brat with a short attention span and all the powers of heaven. That
spells 'trouble' with a capital T!"
Mike stared at Gabriel's face. One look into the angel's eyes showed him this
was serious. A thundering boom from outside confirmed it. "@#%$," he breathed as
another dull boom echoed from outdoors. "All right, everyone listen up!" he
shouted over the din. Clambering onto a table, he waved his arms wildly. "Excuse
me! Ladies, gentlemen, and others! We have a situation!" Upon hearing his
shouts, and more importantly the noise of what was plainly approaching
footsteps, silence fell upon the bar. "I'd like to ask you all to quietly and
calmly make your way to the nearest exit," Mike was screaming himself hoarse to
be heard above the thundering. "And then run..." The floor began shaking.
"...like..." Dishes rattled on tables; people staggered about, unable to keep
their balance. "...hell!"
***
She was gigantic. Titanic. Beyond huge. By the time Mike's warning had reached
the bar, She was already standing outside, Hser toes blocking the exits. People
ran about Her feet like ants, yelling in fear and staring upwards, trying to
make out anything beyond Her kneecaps. She was so enormous, She did not even
exist as a woman to the tiny insects on the ground beneath her. She was a force
of nature. Earthquakes rocked the ground with Her every step. Tornadoes whipped
about, stirred up by Her movements. Her voice was thunder, Her body a mountain.
She stopped moving, but the rumbling noises continued. The crowd, paralyzed,
stood staring upwards in amazement as She began to shrink. She dwindled from Her
awe-inspiring height until She stood several hundred feet tall. At last, the
tiny people could see Her face. She was beautiful beyond words. And then She
spoke.
"Guess ya'll couldn't hear me before, huh?" She giggled. "I sometimes forget how
puny you little things are." She sighed and tossed her hair over her shoulder.
"Well, My Daddy sent me here to smash this little building up some," She tapped
the SB&G with a titanic toe. Cracks radiated from the center of the impact. "But
I don't see why I should stop there. You all are naughty little sinners," Her
face lit up with a smile. "And My Family doesn't much care for you. And you know
what that means..."
Chaos ensued.
She reached down and scooped up a handful of people. She stared at them
squirming in Her palm for a moment, then squeezed Her hand into a fist. The
screams and crunching sounds were hideous, and the blood oozed and dripped from
between Her fingers. Then She reached for some more.
Her feet were just as deadly, stomping those She did not deign to reach for into
paste. She teased Her prey, herding them about with Her gigantic toes. When She
tired of hearing them beg, She simply stepped on them. Huge divets were gouged
up by Her steps, leaving craters and ditches behind.
It was in one of these ditches that our heroes huddled...
***
"What do we do, Mike? What do we do?" Lucky hissed.
"How the @#%$ should I know? I ain't got all the answers! I'm a bartender!" came
the hysterical response.
"Now, calm down. There's no need for scenemaking. She's got that pretty well
covered," Sven's deep bass voice rumbled. Or it would, if he weren't a half inch
tall. "Honey, I fear I won't be of much use at this reduced size. Would you
mind?"
"Sorry, sugar," Priscilla grinned sheepishly. Sprinkling a pinch of pixie dust
onto him, she watched him swell and grow to his seven-foot plus, muscular frame.
"Any ideas, Demonica?" Mike whispered.
"Why the hell are you whispering. Do you really think She's paying attention?"
She gestured to the towering titaness, who was busy squashing their friends and
companions.
"Look, I just thought that as a woman you might have some idea as to what we
could do."
"There's nothing we can do," Lydia's gentle voice interjected. "She's not acting
as a woman, she's acting as a goddess. This is a holy display of power,
eliminating the unworthy."
"She certainly seems to be enjoying it," smirked Lucky. "Check that out!"
"Now, stop that!" Lydia admonished. "What she's feeling is nothing like what we
feel. It's like lust, but a thousand times stronger. And there's no way to
combat that."
"No way, huh?" Sam said. "Well, I don't know bout all of you, but I ain't never
met a woman I couldn't handle." He swelled with pride. Actually, he just
swelled. Growing and growing, he stepped from his hiding spot to confront Her.
His ditch-dwelling companions shouted for him to stop, but Sam was set on his
course. He continued walking towards Her, growing all the while, until he
matched her height. She had Her back turned, tormenting another handful of
"sinners." Sam reached out and tapped Her on the shoulder. Before he could say
anything, She whirled about and slapped him full across the face. Sam cried out
and stumbled back.
"Well, well. A little mortal thinks being big gives him a chance against Me?
Well, it's time you learned size isn't everything." She drove Her fist into
Sam's gut. He doubled over, the breath whooshing out of his lungs. As he gasped
for air, she gripped his face in Her hands. "Awww... did I hurt the big bad
genie? Good," She smiled wickedly. She squeezed harder, and Sam yelled in pain.
And then, before everyone's eyes, he began to fade. Before long, he was gone.
Sven leapt up from the ditch. "You bitch!" he shouted. "What did You do to him?"
She leveled Her gaze at the tiny man shouting up to Her. "He is gone. Just like
you soon will be." She raised Her foot above him and swiftly brought it down.
Then she levelled her gaze on the group hiding in the ditch.
Priscilla sobbed when she heard her husband crunch. We sobbed when we heard her
go, pressed between the finger and thumb of the giantess. Demonica and Lydia
died in each other's arms, sharing one last sweet kiss.
"And then there were two..." Her voice rumbled. She brought Her hand closer to
Her face, examining Her little captives who lay beside pools of gore that were
once their best friends. "Hey, aren't you the guy who owned this dump? Started
all this trouble in the first place?"
In the presence of certain death, fear seems to disappear. "What's it to You,
You big bitch?"
She laughed. "Poor, poor Mike Wallace. Never stood a chance. You're not an
immortal. Not a supernatural being. Just a little human bug who had some bad
luck. Well, hey, I'll do you a favor. I'll remove the curse that's keeping you
forever young." She waved a hand dramatically. "There. All done."
Lucky turned to Mike to say something, anything, but found Mike wasn't there. At
least, not the Mike he knew. A fortysomething year old man sat next to him,
staring at his hands, clawing desperately at his face. "W-what's happening?" he
shrieked. Wrinkles appeared, varicose veins popped out, his hair greyed.
"Mike!" Lucky yelled, scurrying towards his rapidly aging friend. It was too
late. Mike was gone. A wasted, old man lay staring up at Lucky, trying feebly to
breathe. Struggling to speak, he exhaled one final breath. Soon, Lucky found
himself cradling a pile of dust. With fire in his eyes, he rose to his feet.
"You -- You --" he sputtered, unable to find something to say. "I'll... I'm
gonna... So help me God..."
"YES?" boomed a Voice.
Lucky whirled and was blinded by the Light that met his eyes. Cowering in the
palm of the giantess, he struggled to see just who was speaking.
"NOW, DAUGHTER. I SEND YOU TO DO A SIMPLE JOB AND YOU GET CARRIED AWAY. REMEMBER
THAT TALK WE HAD?"
"Yes, Daddy," She replied, hanging her head in shame.
"NOW, YOU PUT THAT LITTLE GUY DOWN AND HEAD STRAIGHT HOME. I'LL BE THERE IN A
MOMENT TO DEAL WITH YOU."
Sniffling a bit, She did as Her Father instructed.
The Lord sighed heavily. "TODAY'S YOUTH NEVER LEARNS..." He grumbled. Then He
waved His hand, and everything dissolved and faded to black...
***
I awoke outside my bar. Or, where my bar used to be. Now, it was an empty field
with a sign: "Mike Wallace's Supernatural Bar & Grill: Closed For Renovation." I
looked about in confusion, struggling to remember how I got here or what had
happened. The events of the previous day were a blur. I rolled over and bumped
into Sam. He groaned as he rose to his feet.
"Man, my head is killin' me. How 'bout a drink, Mike?"
"Apparently I'm out of the drink serving game." I gestured to the field. Sam
looked just about as confused as I felt. From the tall grass, forms were rising,
shaking off the effects of a long sleep and some pretty nasty nightmares. One by
one, they started to drift off. Sven and Priscilla said their goodbyes. Demonica
and Lydia did the same. Sam wandered off after Gabriel, who wore a very guilty
expression. Soon, it was just me and Lucky.
"So, what now?" The Leprechaun asked.
"Dunno, Lucks," I replied. "The SB&G was nice, but I think it's time to take a
vacation." I looked into the heavens again, finding that familiar blue-green
pebble in the sky. "And I know just the spot..."