Three's A Charm Read online

  Roger was going to be lucky to live at this point.

  The idiot in question was my therapist. He was a porno-addicted rabbit Shifter with a fabulous reputation as a head shrinker. I had to admit—albeit privately and to no living being—he was good at his job. He’d helped me get out of my own way and realize I was a lovable witch, but he was still a dumbass of epic proportions.

  The rabbit of the hour was sitting on a cushioned lawn chair in the middle of Main Street with a blanket draped over his bottom half. My asschiatrist was holding court and laughing with the good folk of Assjacket. However, he was a bit pale.

  “How did this happen?” I asked Wanda as I made my way toward Roger.

  “He humped a log,” she replied and then fell to her knees in hysterics.

  I froze. I was torn between joining Wanda on the ground or zapping Roger straight to hell.

  “Repeat,” I said, praying to the Goddess I’d heard her wrong.

  Wanda was useless. She was laughing so hard, she was crying. Whatever. I’d get to the bottom of this with or without any intel.

  As I approached, the crowd parted and Roger had the decency to blush.

  “I was hoping you’d come,” he said, giving me a weak wave and a chuckle.

  “You want to explain?” I asked, slapping my hands on my hips and giving him the evil eye.

  “Umm… no?” he suggested.

  “Umm… yes,” I shot back as my fingers began to spark and my wild red hair began to blow around my head.

  The Shifters were smart. Within seconds of beginning my little chat with Roger, they’d all run for cover. However, Sassy stayed right at my side. For as annoying as she could be, she always had my back. Not that her having my back was always a good thing, but it was a thing, and I loved her for it.

  “Shall I just show you?” he suggested.

  “Will I have to bathe my eyes in bleach if you do?” I inquired.

  “Yes,” Bob the unibrowed beaver shouted from beneath a bush in front of the grocery.

  “Who did I screw over in a former life to have to deal with this shit?” I muttered as I paced back and forth and tried to decide what to do.

  I was a healer witch and part of my job was to heal the Shifters of Assjacket along with keeping the magical balance in my area. But this was clearly not an accidental injury.

  “You humped a log?” I questioned through gritted teeth as Sassy started to laugh.

  “I didn’t actually intentionally hump it, per se,” Roger explained.

  “So you accidentally humped the unsuspecting log?”

  “It sounds so sordid when you put it that way,” he protested.

  “Umm… how else should I put it?” I snapped. “Did the log jump out and hump you?”

  Roger’s little head dropped to his chest and his nose began to twitch making him look like a human rabbit—a sad and embarrassed human rabbit. Now I felt bad. Damn it. Why should I feel bad that he humped a log and injured his joystick?

  “You want me to look?” Sassy volunteered.

  “You would do that for me?” I asked, shocked, impressed and grossed out.

  “Yes,” she said. “I love you. You’re my best friend and you have the worst gag reflex of anyone I know.”

  And now I felt awful. I’d just turned the hair blue of the person who was willing to assess the wanker damage of my shit for brains therapist. If that wasn’t true friendship, I didn’t know what was. With a wiggle of my nose, I turned Sassy’s luxurious locks back to their beautiful blonde glory.

  “We’ll look together,” I said, taking her hand in mine.

  “You sure?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Okay, let’s do it,” Sassy whispered, pulling me forward with effort. “Should we take a picture? You know, for future blackmail purposes,” she suggested, yanking hard on my hand.

  “Already done,” Bob shouted from his bush.

  Jerking Sassy to a halt, I turned towards Bob’s voice. I was not happy that I was about to see the package of my therapist, but I really didn’t like that Unibrow Bob had taken a picture of Roger’s humiliating accident. I wasn’t nice, but I also wasn’t a dick—absolutely no pun intended.

  “Give me your phone, Bob,” I hissed with my hands raised ready to blast his ass sky high if he refused.

  “It’s new,” he protested.

  “And your point?” I asked, snapping my fingers and elevating him about twenty feet in the air.

  “No point, Zelda,” he choked out and tossed me his phone.

  I promptly crushed in under my fabulous Doc Martens hot pick combat boots and then let Bob drop to the ground with a thud.

  “Hear me now, people,” I shouted to the hiding townsfolk of my adopted city. “Clearly Roger and his peen have had an altercation with a log. This is unfortunate on many levels and Roger may not live to hump another day. But no one—and I mean no one—will bully anyone or take unflattering photos of other’s stupidity especially when it involves weenies. Am I clear?”

  A shamed chorus of yesses came from under buildings, trees and bushes.

  And then I saw it.

  Goddess, help me.

  It wasn’t pretty and I had no intention in this lifetime of touching it. Yes, it was my job as Shifter Wanker to heal my people, but this… This didn’t count. And if it did, I was going to quit.

  Not only would touching the painful looking wee-wee break some kind of patient slash therapist law, it would induce nightmares for the rest of my unnaturally long life. Not to mention whatever body part I healed on a Shifter or witch, I took the pain into my own body. Seeing as how I didn’t exactly have a man tool, I was unsure how I’d come out of this shit show.

  “I can’t do this,” I muttered as Sassy went over to a tree, broke off a branch and handed it to me.

  “Use this,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “To poke it and fix it,” Sassy suggested with a wince and a gag. “I mean, as a white witch, your Earth energy should be able to go through the stick and you can fix that pecker right up. That way you don’t actually have to handle the trouser snake.”

  “John Holmes,” Bob’s disembodied voice called out from the shrub he was hiding under.

  “Excuse me?” I snapped, pointing the stick at Bob’s bush.

  “Roger named his member John Holmes. It might be less confusing just to call his salami by its given name,” Bob suggested.

  I vaguely recalled a group package-naming debacle from a year ago, but I’d blocked it out. Of course Bob, in his infinite lack of wisdom and concern for my gag reflex, had to go and remind me. I was glad I’d smashed his phone. If he volunteered another piece of unsavory information he was going to pay.

  “Umm… Bob?” I said so calmly I heard the entire population of Assjacket gasp in terror.

  “Yes?” he squeaked out.

  “If you feel the need to say anything else, I’d suggest you keep it to yourself. Because if you speak I will lower your hairline to your upper lip. This will be permanent, wildly unattractive and I will let everyone take pictures. You feel me?”

  Bob’s grunt of understanding didn’t count as words, so I let it go.

  “I’m not calling your pickle John Holmes,” I told Roger.

  “That’s fine,” he assured me. “He answers to anything.”

  Closing my eyes, I counted to twenty-five and a half. This had been such a promising day. Now? Not so much. It took everything I had not to wiggle my fingers and remove Roger’s friend completely.

  “Here’s the deal. I’m going to wing this one and use a spell. I can’t touch it. I still need about twenty-two and three quarters more years of therapy and if I handle your wang, that disqualifies you,” I told him.

  Roger nodded in understanding. “I see your point.”

  “Plus I don’t think Mac would be delighted that I poked your wonder worm even with a stick,” I added.

  My man was the King of this ragtag group of Shifters and wildly powe
rful. He was also a little possessive. Actually I was equally as possessive, so we basically canceled each other out. It worked out great and the sex was off the charts.

  “I agree,” Roger said. “And by the by, I’m sorry.”

  Sighing, I smiled at the rabbit who had helped me beyond words. It was the least I could do to make his issue better. However, touching it was still out of the question.

  And if he ever pulled this shit again, he was on his own.

  “It’s okay… kind of,” I said. “I just hope you learned your lesson.”

  “What lesson?” Sassy asked.

  “Humping logs is a no-no,” I said, shaking my head in defeat. Never in a million years did I think that sentence would come out of my mouth.

  “Got it,” she said. “I’ll let everyone know.”

  “You do that,” I told her with a laugh.

  “Do you still want to change your name to Houston? Now’s a good time to do it since everyone in town is here,” Sassy suggested.

  “Umm… no. But thanks.”

  “No worries.”

  “All right Roger, you ready?” I asked, rolling my neck and cracking my knuckles in preparation for pulling a whopper of a spell out of my ass.

  “Will this be painful?” he asked, paling considerably.

  “Does the Pope sing karaoke every third Tuesday?” I asked.

  “I have no idea,” Roger replied with a wrinkled brow.

  “And there’s your answer. I have no motherhumpin’ idea either,” I told him truthfully.

  “If I had to guess, I’d say there’s a fifty-fifty chance it will hurt, a forty-seventy chance it will be painless, and a thirty-ninety chance you’ll be a eunuch,” Sassy told him.

  “You just spoke Chinese again,” I told Sassy.

  “I did?” she squealed and danced around the empty street.

  “Yes, you did. Now, I’d suggest you take cover. I’ve never done this and it could get messy.”

  Roger began to hyperventilate, but Sassy didn’t move.

  “I’m staying right here. If you go down in a blaze of exploding, projectile doinker, I’m going down with you,” she said.

  “Seriously?” I asked, unsure if I wanted to laugh or gag at her colorful description of what might happen.

  “No, but I’m still staying.”

  Sassy’s loyalty—or utter stupidity—humbled me. Note to self—stop turning Sassy’s hair different colors and let her borrow my Birkin bag. It was the least I could do considering she was putting her life in possible harms way of being hit by a projectile penis.

  “Roger, are you ever going to hump a log again?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

  “No. No, I will never hump a log again.”

  “Good.”

  “Do we need the log for the spell?” Sassy asked.

  I paused for a brief second in thought and then gagged. “Umm… no. We do not need the log. I don’t ever want to see that log. In fact I think someone should get rid of the log. Forever,” I said, trying not to picture anything that would stick in my frontal lobe.

  “I’m on it,” Bob the beaver grunted as he crawled out from under the bush and jogged off into the woods.

  The fact that Bob clearly knew where the log was disturbed me, but I pushed that to a part of my mind that I never visited.

  “Okay, Roger. Try to relax. We’ll have that pocket rocket patched up in a jiffy.”

  With a quick, silent and very heartfelt prayer to the Goddess, I pulled on my magic and let her rip…

  Goddess on High, hear my plea

  Roger the dumbass had a mishap with his… umm… rabbit wee-wee.

  I know it is rare,

  To use enchantment to repair.

  But since I don’t own a schlong,

  I figured the regular way could go wrong.

  Goddess, bless me with your magic,

  And make Roger’s thingie not so tragic.

  Please, please, fucking please hear my call,

  Cause I’ll tell you this much—I’m not touching that freakin’ weiner—at all.

  “So mote it be!” Sassy yelled as the wind whipped up and I felt an unusual tingling flash through my body.

  Black sparks and fire left my fingertips, which was not the best of signs. It shocked me to the core since I thought I was using white magic for the spell. I was still trying to control the unwelcome dark magic in my body that I’d gotten thanks to my mother. However, I’d never healed with a spell. I’d always healed with touch. Dizziness washed over me and I felt ill. Quickly squatting so I didn’t fall over, I prayed to the Goddess once again.

  Roger’s little body stiffened and he fell off the chair with a gasp and a shriek. My eyes went wide and my stomach plummeted. I hoped to the Next Adventure and back that I hadn’t offed my therapist. He was a royal pain in my ass, but I secretly adored him. Killing him would so suck.

  I felt rooted to the ground as Sassy dashed over to see what I’d done to Roger. “He’s alive,” she shouted triumphantly as she looked under the blanket.

  “And?” I asked.

  “And… well, it’s definitely different from when we started.”

  “How different?” I whispered.

  “Five times different,” she said with eyes as round as saucers.

  And that’s when I passed out.

  Clearly spells don’t quite work for healing.

  Shit.

  Chapter Three

  “Houston, are you okay?” I heard my father say in a desperately worried tone. Who in the Goddess’s name was he talking to?

  “Her pulse is fine and her breathing is normal,” Baba Yaga said, touching my forehead with her cool hand. “She’ll come to momentarily.”

  “Was it Houston’s spell or the realization that Roger now has five wanks that made her faint?” Sassy asked in a hushed tone.

  “Dat’s a lotta licking dat rabbit is gonna have to do,” Fat Bastard pointed out as my other furry familiars, Boba Fett and Jango Fett, grunted in impressed agreement.

  Oh my hell, this had to be a dream. Right?

  “This is not okay,” Mac growled as he adjusted the pillow under my head. “Zelda doesn’t need…”

  “You mean Houston,” Sassy corrected my mate.

  Mac’s sigh was long and I could feel his frustration even though my eyes wouldn’t cooperate with me and open. “You’re certain Zelda wants to change her name?”

  “Positive,” Sassy replied. “She called herself Houston like twelve times—or a least once—and came close to announcing it to the entire town before she turned Roger into a porno star for a freak show.”

  Damn it—not a dream.

  “Accident,” I croaked out, forcing my eyes open and trying to sit up.

  It was strange that I’d passed out. I’d felt no pain when I’d used the spell to heal… or rather enhance Roger. Normally when I healed someone, it took me an hour or two to feel okay again. Of course the first time I healed my friends, I was out for a week, but that was a long time ago. I was a pro now.

  Or maybe not.

  “Oh my Goddess, Houston. I was so worried about you,” Fabio, my dad, cried out as he took me in his arms and rocked me like a baby.

  My dad was still making up for being absent during my childhood. He was doing a really good job, but I didn’t tell him that. I enjoyed being babied and spoiled by him.

  “Who the hell is Houston?” I asked, making sure I hadn’t been dreaming when Sassy spewed her load of crap.

  “Youse are,” Fat Bastard announced, hopping up on my bed and planting his furry and very large ass in my lap.

  “No. I’m not.”

  “Would you prefer Dallas?” Fabdudio inquired, looking puzzled.

  “No.”

  “Austin?” Baba Yaga suggested.

  “Galveston?” Mac tried one out.

  “Fort Worth?” Marge aka Cookie Witch added.

  “San Antonio?” Jeeves the Kangaroo shifter aka Sassy’s husband aka Mac’s adopted son ch
imed in.

  “No. No. No. And oh my Goddess, no,” I replied with an eye roll. “Sassy’s confused… as usual. I’m still going by Zelda.”

  “Wait,” Sassy yelled in her outdoor voice, making all in the room wince in pain. “Were you speaking Chinese when you said all that stuff?”

  Now everyone was confused—except me.

  “Yes. Yes, I was speaking Chinese.”

  “Goddess, what a relief,” Sassy said, flopping down on the bed next to me. “For a minute there I thought I was losing my newfound brilliance. I’m clearly going to have to learn to speak Chinese.”

  “That would probably be helpful,” I said with the smallest eye roll I could manage without getting busted.

  “So do you think you might have been speaking Chinese when you did the spell?” Sassy asked. “You know the Goddess might not understand Chinese either and therefore thought you wanted Roger to have a pentagon of penises.”

  “I’m sorry,” Cookie Witch choked out with her hand over her mouth. “Did you just say pentagon of penises?”

  “I most certainly did,” Sassy huffed, totally offended. “Pentagon means five for everyone’s information. It’s a French word. Roger now has five love muscles. So it stands to reason that he has a pentagon of penii. You feel me?”

  “She kind of has a point in a rather unorthodox way,” Jeeves admitted, standing up for his deranged wife.

  “But a pentagon is a shape with five connected sides,” Fabio said, bending over at the waist clearly feeling phantom pain for Roger. “Does it actually look like a pentagon? Are they connected?”

  “Dat would be sumpin’ to see,” Jango Fett said, scratching his kitty head with his paw. “Youse would have a hard time takin’ a leak if the giggle sticks was connected.”

  The room went silent. I felt like passing out again. Did Roger have a pentagon in his pants or just five unconnected man bits? Goddess, the images were endless and gross. I was definitely going back to the pokey for this one—even I thought I deserved time in the big house for this mess.

  “Umm… what does a pentagon actually look like?” Sassy asked, looking somewhat bewildered.