Page 19 of Brimstone and Broomsticks
“Not helping,” I muttered.
“Or eaten only his toes, to teach him a lesson. Proper punishment is key to behavior modification,” he continued.
“Do youwantto go back to jail?” I snapped at him.
“Now, Cassie,” Martin scolded. “Let’s communicate the rules to our newcomer in a calm, peaceful manner.” He turned to Lucien. “We’re here to help each other control our anger and more violent impulses, not encourage them. What do you think John should have done instead of damaging this man’s car?”
“A non-violent punishment?” Lucien tilted his head in wonder.
“A non-violent solution?” Martin corrected.
Lucien shifted his feet, the anklet coming into view just below his pants hem. “Lock him in the car with the windows up and not allow him to leave for a week?”
“That’s illegal,” I told him. “How about John returns the cart to the corral himself, uses his breathing techniques to calm his emotions, then eats some chocolate?”
That wasn’t what I’d do. Or what I’d try to do. In reality I was more in line with John’s way of dealing with the situation, but I’d learned from three months of these anger management meetings to parrot the party line.
“Or eat the rump roast raw,” Alberta suggested. “He could imagine he’s eating the rude man and cool his temper that way. That’s what I’d do.”
Martin pursed his lips. “It’s a good coping technique, Alberta. As long as you’re confident that you won’t cross the line into actual cannibalism.”
She sniffed. “It’s not cannibalism if they’re human. Not like I’m eating other trolls or something. Yuck.”
“No eating the humans,” I reminded her. “Or the elves or the mermaids. Packaged grocery-store meat only.”
“The Dickskins hunt deer,” she complained.
“They have a permit,” I reminded her. In all fairness, Alberta had never eaten any humans or other town residents. Her biggest problem was that she was horny and not a lot of men seemed willing to have sex under a bridge with a troll, no matter how drunk. Well, maybe if they werereallydrunk, but that sort of thing usually didn’t result in a repeat occurrence or even a text the next day. Hence Alberta’s anger management issues. None of us liked rejection, but Alberta really didn’t like rejection.
“I’ve got it,” Lucien announced. “Follow the man around all day, singing a jingle on repeat. Something really annoying like that Meow Mix one.”
“Or the Hefty, Hefty, Hefty chant?” Alberta asked.
“The Oscar Meyer song?” I suggested. I’ll admit, the idea had merit.
“Folgers?”
“That Empire Carpet one?”
“Chili’s baby-back ribs?”
“Ooo, ooo,” I bounced in my seat. “The Kit-Kat jingle. He’ll never get that out of his head.” I hummed the tune. Anger management meetings had never been so much fun.
Martin frowned. “Maybe during the actual confrontation, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to follow someone around singing a jingle at them all day. Such an act might end up in a violent altercation.”
“But we wouldn’t have started it,” John protested. “Finishin’ is okay. Starting is not.”
“Finishing is not okay,” Martin told him. “Nonviolence, John. Step away from any attack. Don’t meet violence with violence. That’s what we’re working on here.”
I clamped my mouth shut and nodded, trying to be a good attendee. Two more months of this and I’d be done. Well, done attending meetings, that is. I’m not sure my setting my ex-fiancé on fire days were over for good.
“Let’s give our newcomer a chance to share.” Martin turned to Lucien. “If he wants to, that is.”
Lucien sprawled back in his chair, a lazy grin creasing his cheeks. “I’m Lucien, son of Lucifer, and I’m here because the bald man told me that I needed to come as part of his conditions for letting me out of jail.”
“Your dad’s name is Lucifer?” John shook his head. “Man, that sucks. Who the hell would do that to a child?”
“My grandfather,” Lucien told him. “Because my father was the light of his life until he got opinions of his own on how to run the family business. There was an epic fight. Tore the whole family apart. They’re still not speaking with each other.”
