Hell On Heels(7)

Wolf Boy lay crumbled on the ground moaning for a long time. With his nose where his forehead should be and his testicles lodged somewhere near his chest I didn’t blame him. All the others worked around him as if he wasn’t there.
I sat down on the front steps of my bungalow and watched in horror as my therapy group turned my beautiful little house into a bad home-improvement project. I felt a cool wind on my face and I closed my eyes and smiled. The air shimmered around me and out of nowhere Blanche magically appeared on my front lawn. She stepped over Wolf Boy and made herself comfortable on my new and highly unattractive couch. She happily held one-sided conversations with a bunch of Demons that didn’t even know she was there. . .because she was invisible. Blanche was mine and I was the only one who could see her. Although I’d told my dad and sisters about her, none of them believed me. Stella was the only one who was convinced of her existence. Stella loved hearing about Blanche’s adventures and Blanche loved Stella. It pissed her off to no end that Stella couldn’t see her. She would curse a blue streak trying to figure out a way to become corporeal for Stella. If I could behave a little more like Blanche, my dad would be so happy. However, every time I tried to copy her I either ended up with hives or laughing uncontrollably.
“Excuse me, Dixie,” said Janet with the voice of a shy ten year old girl. Poor Janet was wearing a fake beard and mustache. Up until a few months ago her beard and stache had been real, but our former therapist had them permanently removed as punishment. Janet had been devastated. She'd been sporting her beard for hundreds of years and clearly felt naked without it. Her mate, Carl, loved her both hairy and hairless and had bought her an impressive array of beards. Focusing on her eyes instead of her lopsided facial hair was difficult, but she was sweet. “Would Your Highness like the walls the same color as before or do you want something new and fresh and not so dated?”
I was fairly sure I was just insulted by a child locked in a hairy adult’s body, but I decided it was in my best interest to let that baby go. My hairy female friend was going to help me redecorate.
“I don’t know. What do you think?” I felt my eyes go red with excitement.
“I think we should look at this!” She whipped out a color chart and squealed.
Blanche cleared her throat to get my attention and mimed shaving her face. Damn her, I was almost able to pretend that Janet was normal. Then Blanche had to go and ruin it by reminding me that Janet had more fake hair on her face than I had on my entire body. Well, screw her. Janet was my friend—she couldn’t help that she was a hairy destructive mess.
While Janet and I bonded over paint colors, Carl and Myrtle got into three rather violent fights.
“Carl.” I stopped him as he went to replace my window. “Why do you two hang out if you're just going to keep trying to kill each other?”
Carl paused, contemplated, flipped me off and then started break dancing. I was beginning to think he was brain damaged.
“Oh, for goodness sakes,” Janet piped up. Her mannerisms were so dainty for such a hairy gal. “Carl is a little. . .well, he’s just Carl. He’s a wonderful Demon, just not a good conversationalist.” She paused and waited for Carl to finish with his splits. That was how he ended all of his routines. As he wandered out of earshot Janet continued.
“Actually,” she went on, "he’s very smart and kind. He smells good and he’s champion in the bedroom.”
“Oh, Good Lucifer Almighty, no!” Blanche screamed as she slapped her hands over her ears. “That’s disgusting.” I was so glad that Janet couldn’t see or hear my non-corporeal imaginary friend, but I had to concur. Blanche vanished in a huff of disgust.
“Oookay, Janet,” I said, deciding to use this as a teachable moment for my hairy buddy. “That is way too much information. That’s not really an image you want to create for others.”
“You’re right,” she answered solemnly in her childlike voice. “No one should know that Carl is Superman in the sack. If anybody tried to steal my Carl away I’d tear their limbs off, decapitate them, shove a spike through their heart and burn them for the Hell of it.”
She stopped for a moment, clearly considering what she just said. She was normally so sweet. I was positive she was going to yell “joking”, but no.
“Actually I’d rip their limbs off first then burn them because they would be conscious for that and it would hurt.” She seemed pleased with the new order of torture. “Then after they’re dead I would decapitate them and run a spike through their heart to make absolutely sure they could never ever get a piece of Carl’s manmeat. That goes for you too, so don’t go getting any ideas.” She was dead serious.