Page 16 of Someone Save My Midlife Tonight

“Fuck you,” Shitty Ritchie snarled. His voice was high and squeaky.

The man had one heck of a bad attitude. How much damage could a teensy-weensy dude do? I knew from experience that appearances could be very deceiving. I’d stay with the polite Daisy for the time being. “We’re happy to have you here,” I lied through my teeth. I thought I heard Candy Vargo groan. Screw Candy Vargo. I didn’t see her up here trying to make nice with the miniscule freak.

Shitty Ritchie growled like a cornered animal. “Fuck you, fuck you and fuck you.”

“Well, fuck you too,” I shot back. The little jerk had no manners.

The scream that came from Shitty Ritchie had to have ruptured my ear drums. All of the glass in the living room shattered. The crystal chandelier dropped from the ceiling and shattered into thousands of sparkling shards. It was too bad it hadn’t taken his head off. Reaching up to make sure blood wasn’t dripping from my ears, I narrowed my eyes at the tiny menace.

Before another word could leave my mouth, Shitty Ritchie began to spin in circles on the coffee table. It started slow and then increased to a speed where it was difficult to see him. The funnel that formed around him did not look good.

“Go, go, go!” Charlie yelled as he began ushering people out of the house. “Get out. It’s about to blow.”

He didn’t have to ask twice. Gideon grabbed my hand and literally yanked me out of the house. Everyone else was only a breath behind. My dogs led the way. We’d made it about eight hundred feet from the house when it detonated like a massive bomb had exploded. Furniture, walls, chandeliers, glass, stone, appliances and wood flew everywhere. Gideon shielded Alana Catherine and me with his body. Candy Vargo quickly dropped a ward around us, and I watched as my beautiful home was reduced to rubble. It was very good we were in the middle of nowhere. It would be terrible if the human police and fire department showed up.

When I saw my wedding dress in flames and my daughter’s mangled crib hurtle through the air, I lost it.

“What in the actual Pop Tart vagina wasthat?” I shouted, staring at the spot where I used to feel safe. “That little nard ass is going to pay.”

With a flick of my fingers, I dissolved the ward and sprinted towards the house. I could hear the frantic yelling behind me. I ignored it. My life might be a hot shartshow, but my home was my haven—wasbeing the operative word. No little doll-sized, smack-talking, asshole was going to get away with destroying it. Maybe, it was all the pressure I was under that made me go off. Maybe, it was seeing the photos of my parents burning to ash on the ground. Maybe, it was the flaming scraps and hunks of the hot pink jungle gym whipping through the air that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I didn’t care. I was over being messed with. None of us had done anything to Shitty Ritchie. Well, I wasn’t sure about that, but I was sure I hadn’t done anything to the little nard except say hello. Blowing up my house for that was unacceptable. With any luck, a beam would have decapitated Shitty Ritchie. If that wasn’t the case, I would finish the job.

“You little piece of Merlin’s magical balls,” I hissed when I saw the tiny jackhole standing to the left of the smoldering rubble pile laughing like he’d just pulled a hilarious prank.

I didn’t like pranks. They were stupid and mean. And I really didn’t like people who pulled them—especially one as destructive as this. My mind was a jumbled mess as I tried to pull a plan of attack together. Electrocuting him could backfire. Ripping his head off might be over the top. He hadn’t technically tried to decapitate any of us… yet. I offed people defensively, not because they were nards. Reminding myself that I was the Angel of Mercy, I kept sprinting toward the miniature monster.

The Angel of Mercy would not kill randomly.

However, she could give the unwanted douche canoe aswift kick in the ass. I was about to yeet that corn nut into next year.

The speed at which I ran rendered me invisible. Win-win. The little son of a Nutter Butter bunghole didn’t see me coming. The feeling when my combat boot-clad foot connected with his tiny bahookey was glorious. I punted Shitty Ritchie the length of a football field. His screams of terror were music to my ears.

I wasn’t done. In less time than it took to inhale and exhale, I was on him. Pinning him down with my foot on his neck, I smiled. With a clap of my hands, I produced a gnarly-looking, razor-sharp sword. I laid the cold blade against his cheek. It would only take a flick of my wrist to remove his head. The choice to live or die would be his. I wasn’t a total monster. “One move and I’ll snap your neck. After that, I’ll remove it from your body with my bare hands. If that proves problematic, I’ll whack it off with the sword. You understand me?” I ground out.

I was very aware I was glowing and that my eyes had turned a blinding gold. The entire scene in front of me was bathed in a golden glow. Shitty Ritchie had the wherewithal to look extremely uncomfortable.

“Fuck you,” he hissed.

“I’d rather not,” I shot back. For a hot sec, I thought the tiny jerk chuckled. That had to be wrong. “Here’s how this is going to go,Shitty Ritchie. When I remove my foot, you’re going to leave. I don’t ever want to see your ugly face again. You’re a disgusting little pig of a man and an asshole to boot. I don’t know why Charlie thought you could help. And if you destroy one more thing or person on my property, you will rue the day you were hatched.”

I felt my people behind me. I also felttheir fear. Why? Not sure. I didn’t fear the icky little man under my boot. I hated him. And yes, hate was a strong word, but he’d destroyed what was sacred to me. It could all be replaced, but it would never be the same.

“Uhhhh… Daisy,” Candy Vargo said. “You wanna back off a little bit?”

I didn’t spare her a glance. It was too risky to look away from the Immortal tornado. “Nope. I’m good. Shitty Ritchie will be leaving. Soon. I don’t care what the stupid nardhole can do or how he might be able to help. As far as I’m concerned, he’s a violent waste of space and doesn’t deserve the oxygen he breathes.”

And then the unthinkable happened. Shitty Ritchie began to cry. It started small but quickly devolved into choking sobs—snot included. I didn’t buy it. I pressed my foot deeper into his neck. “Stop that. You just blew up my house. You see me crying, shart stain?”

“Nobody likes me,” he wailed.

It was a little difficult to understand him with my foot on his larynx, but I wasn’t letting up. If he turned into a freaking tornado funnel again, that would be on me. Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice? That wasnotgoing to happen today.

“Duh. Why should anyone like you?” I demanded. “You got here, said fuck you, then imploded my house. Not sure that’s a great way to make friends.”

“Sorry,” he said through his tears. “I thought I was here to face the music. I needed to show that I meant business.”

“Define face the music,” I snapped, ready to yeet him all the way home… wherever that might be.

“Pay for my crimes,” he sniffled.

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