Just Enough to Drink

Yes, Monsieur, or Lucifer, or whatever in the literal Hell his real name was -- he was a bad boy, through and through...

...except, apparently, for his current state, which was about as unboyish as it could be. His leathery wings flapped once, twice. His malevolent eye scanned the room, confident that he could start anywhere, uncertain just which victim to choose. Sparks and flames radiated from the upper portion of his "body," what served as his "head," and smoke filled the eyes of all present, blinding them all.

All but one.

It is a curious and little-known fact that dwarves, creatures of the underworld and comfortable with darkness as they are, should be so naturally immune to smoke and fumes of all sorts. But through thousands of generations, natural selection has been doing its work: preserving the bloodlines of those dwarvish types most able to work in the bowels of the earth, with all the sputtering of magma and natural-gas emissions and digestive ailments which follow naturally when one cannot easily get to decent plumbing for weeks at a time.

A curious fact, yes. Little-known. And very convenient.

"Ah, shut yer piehole," said a coarse voice from behind the bar. Only Monsieur/Lucifer could see who it came from.

"You!" he cried. "No! All the dwarves fled for the exit just moments ago---"

"Miscounted, did ye?" said CJ. "Pity."

With that, the little fellow now standing upon the bar unbuttoned his trousers. "See ye back at yer place," he said, "someday. If yer lucky." And he unleashed a warm stinking stream straight upon the creature of sparks and flame and brimstony smoke. No one in the bar could see any of this, save for the diminutive executioner and his satanic victim, but they all could smell it, and they all heard CJ's continued muttering. "Blood of a bog unicorn, sure. Always helps. Maybe a little mead at the right moment. But a little piss never hurt, neither."

Then they all heard the hiss, and the long and seemingly endless and really, when they thought about it later, quite satisfying shriek of anguish:

"Nooooooooo! Look what you've done, you wicked little man... I'm meeeellting! Melting I say...!"

Then all was silence, stunned silence.

A Biological Anomaly

the blood of a bog unicorn."

"But I thought they were extinct!" This, from a tweed-jacketed bloke down the end of the bar who looked like he might know what he was talking about. He puffed authoritatively on a long clay pipe, as though for emphasis.

"Well now, old fellow," CJ said, his eyes twinkling, "maybe if you knew as much about dwarfish culture as you did about zoology you might not be so hasty to judge."

"Shut yer piehole, CJ!" said Daisy. "You've said enough for one evenin' and I don't care if you're back from the dead or just back from the loo."

CJ's Secret Ring

"CJ's not dead ma'am, he's drunk as a skunk and perched half way up his old man's Ikea ladder behind the bar."

Everybody in the dimly lit bar gasped and immediately turned to face the bar. CJ sat precariously on the step-ladder, blood dripping from his wounded arm.

"Randy always was a crap shot," he sniggered; his eyes were heavy and drowsy; his words mumbled and slurred.

"I've still got this ring, though. Do any of you know what's in this ring? Look."

All the people in the bar OOO-ed and AHH-ed as they clustered around the Ikea ladder. Daisy and Kitten kindy held it steady as CJ took a ruby ring from his pocket, everybody watched as he dislodged the fake stone from it's setting and took out a tiny box which had been hidden beneath.

"In this box is a piece of paper that was ripped from an ancient recipe book. This is the ingredient that will save dwarves of all species. The Monsieur thought the secret ingredient was based on the genes of dwarves, but you can get the exact same age defying, pentapeptide effect from . . .

It was up to Violet. That was the one thing she knew, when the Council introduced her to the black mask and told her all the secrets that hid in Little Hampton Point Valley. That summer, her beauty, which had been considerable to start with, suddenly seemed to entrap every male who looked at her, she knew she had the power to free Joe.

And that night, behind the bar, with their few, brief stolen moments, her heart was breaking, even as she lay twisted in his arms in the shadows, with a brawl going on just outside.

"Joe," she said, and she knew she could do this. "I don't love you." The words were cold and strong, although she was weeping inside. She thought maybe it was the powers of the black mask that allowed her to be not quite human. She looked at his face, flushed from sex and love, and all of a sudden she wanted to bite that throbbing vein in his neck. Her cool evaporated. She leaned in to him to smell the blood pulsing through his body.

"I don't love you, Joe," the words were a vicious hiss as she tried to control the bloodlust. They had warned her, the council, but this was the first time she had felt it. "I won't ever marry you."

"What?" He said, dazed, confused. This did not make sense. What about the summer that seemed to last forever and fill with with joy? "That's not true Vi." He said. He saw her clench her hands together and grit her teeth.

"I was USING you," she spit out, "to make my father jealous. Obviously it worked. I am done with you."

"No, Vi..."

"Yes, I don't ever want to see you again. No one does. Even your mother can't stand to be around you. Why do you think she drinks so much. She tells everyone at the bar what a waste you are when she's on one of her benders and you're not around." Violet had gotten control of herself finally and was spilling all that hunger and heat into her words, watching the reactions on Joe's face. The hunger was feeding off of his pain, but inside, Violet thought that she would never have happiness again. She was not good enough to be happy. She was not good enough to have Joe in her life.

"Face it," she said as she rearranged her clothes and pulled bottle caps out of her mussed hair. "There's no reason for you to even be alive." With that, she stormed off. She ran home and threw herself on the bed to cry and cry and cry.

But he didn't know that. All he knew was that he had to get out of this town. He snuck out the kitchen door (everyone was still watching Bill and Jack brawl, so there were no witnesses) and disappeared into the night. No one ever saw him again...

Until 7 years later.

And here he was, with Violet's arms wrapped around him, watching her sob. And he knew. He knew without knowing how he knew that she really did love him and always had. What he didn't know was why she had lied all those years ago and why she had chased him away.

"What are we going to do?" she asked him, their hearts beating as one as their chests pressed together. "My father has kidnapped our son."

The fury rose in him and his hands itched for his gun. That was when the door burst open.

Randy stood there, covered in blood, holding a gun.

He should have been shocked, he should have reached for that gun in his waist holster, but oddly, what came out of his mouth was, "That's my father's gun."

Randy smiled, cold and hard. "I know. I took it off your brother Clive when I shot him."

"You!" Violet gasped.

"That's right. I'm the Dwarf Catcher. You thought I was too stupid to be a danger. You thought I was so stupid you wouldn't even look at me, not the way you're looking at him," he waved the gun at Joe. "Or the way you look at that freak Swotsy. She's a lesbian, you know, Joe. She's never going give it up to you again."

"You don't know what you're getting into, Randy. Don't listen to the Monsieur. He's using you."

"Oh, no more than I'm using him," Randy said and smiled. "And I do know what I'm getting in to. You bitches on the freak side of town always thought you were better than anyone else, and now I know why. Oh yes. CJ told me all about it, thinking he was saving me. Then I shot him. One more dead dwarf to send to the Monsieur."

While Randy bragged about murder, Joe was getting into position

Follow the Keys

bring them in with us on our little secret. No pun intended."

Swotsy pointed at a spot where the snow was particularly disturbed. "I'm not so sure about that, Vi. Look here. What's that you see?"

Violet leaned closer. She couldn't quite see... As she reached out to brush some of the loose snow aside, Swotsy batted her hand away. "But I was just trying t0---"

"I know what you were trying to do. But this is a crime scene now. Look, sweetheart. Look. You don't need to see anymore than that little bit sticking up there... the two crossed hands..."

Violet clapped a hand to her forehead. "Sister Margaret's key! And is that...?"

"Yes. Blood all right."

"Randy's or CJ's?"

Swotsy leveled a squirrely gaze at Violet. "Might as well ask is it yours or mine or Sister Margaret's for that matter. How the hell should I know whose it is? Red, isn't it?" She sat back on her heels, and sighed deeply. (Violet loved Swotsy's sighs. The deeper the better.) "Now I'll have to get hold of Manders and that lot, and we'll have the bulls traipsing all over the garden here. It appears, love, that we shall have to seek out a new trysting spot."

A crash from around the side of the B&B brought the conversation to a close.

"Listen," CJ said as he jumped up from the ground underneath the window, "they're coming. Get that great footballer lump you call an ass up and going. We've got to get out of here."

"What?" Randy said. Confused. He was always confused. He needed to talk to Violet. She would straighten everything out, he was sure.

"Don't question me!" CJ said. "We've got to go to my mother's, and we've got to go now! Move."

Randy was used to taking orders. He followed the little man, who was surprisingly fast and fleet on his feet.

They disappeared into the copse behind the Neptune.

Violet and Swotsy tumbled out into the garden behind the B&B.

"He's gone!" Violet said under her breath.

"They're gone, Vi." Swotsy-- it was so easy to forget she was a detective, what with her big feet and insecurities stemming from High School-- was examining tracks in the snow. "Randy, and a dwarf."

Violet swore. "The dwarves! Now we're going to have to

7 is the magic number

done anything to be the perfect aunt. On the day he was due back from Holland with Alice, May tidied the house, imagining all the wonderful adventures that lay ahead of them. She just had time to wash the last of the facepacks off before she heard Alice's key in the door. She ran downstairs followed by a liquid stream of cats, rushing down the steps like mercury in her wake, yowling a greeting, relieved not to be alone in the house any longer with this maniac who blended their mother.

Joe rushed into the lamplit hall, glanced up as his aunt ran to greet him and froze in horror. As Alice pulled the key from the lock, he began to scream.

May left soon after that. Small town Suffolk was no place for her. She married an octogenarian billionaire with a feline obsession. Alone at home with a small child, Alice's high spirits didn't last long.
'Go play,' she would push Joe out of the kitchen door as one of her gentlemen arrived to do odd jobs around the house. 'Go find some friends your own age.'

And he did. When Randy and Violet were busy with their own families, Joe would wander out to the trailer park to play with Clive's kids. CJ became like the kid brother he never had. It was the only place he felt accepted, the only place where people didn't joke about his crazy cat aunt and Alice's drinking. The only place in the world he felt like the normal one. There were eight of them in one trailer - Rowena, Clive, their five children and her mother, poor Wilma's best friend .........

Return of the dwarf

CJ ran in. CJ: everyone's name for Clive, Jr., who was if anything even more gnarled than his late Da. CJ: the most twisted double helix of the whole diminutive bloodline.

"Sorry for slammin' the door, youse," said the young dwarf. "Come to take me ring back, I have."

He grabbed her hand, pulled a pair of garden snips from his hip pocket, and...