Molly

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This episode of ‘How to Piss Me Off’ features puppy-bear eyes and the last of my sanity.

Sheyla picks up a piece of kindling, waving it back and forth in her hand. “Who’s a pretty puppy?”

For the record, she’s teasing Brody, who isn’t even in creature form. He likes it. He’s an idiot. Me? I want to eat the tongue right out of her mouth. Who talks like that? No. Really. Who the hell talks like that, except dim-witted people to babies? Great. They’ve fucked another one up. Girl should’ve been the earth element since she’s dumber than a box of rocks. Seriously, how do these people keep botching the selection so bad? They’re supposed to geniuses. Scholars. Scholars of stupidity more like. Swear to fuck, sometimes I reckon I’m the only sensible one in this whole crap shoot.

Connor’s happy to join in on the game. He leaps over the wood pile, in all his wolf-bear shifted glory, catching the kindling. I file a mental note to break his damn legs, along with the hand he dared punch me in the arm with, then his ribs just for fun. See, I can play games too. His behaviour is embarrassing. Beyond embarrassing. It’s so embarrassing, I’m embarrassed on his behalf. Also my behalf because that shit rubs off on me by proximity.

“Wow.” She looks Connor up and down. Great, now she’s perving on my brother, in wolf-bear form no less. Sick fucker.

When he leans back on his haunches, his giant tongue peaking over the corner of his mouth, I honestly and truly want to slap the shit out of him. How could he lower himself to that level?

Guess that wasn’t low enough. Fucking idiot blows out a breath through his snout in her direction, covering her face in snot spritzer. “Gross,” she complains.

Fuck me, I want to straight up eat the bitch. One chomp. That’s all it’d take. Girl makes a twig look fat. Probably serve better as a toothpick. She needs to eat a sandwich or twelve. Maybe a whole fucking cake.

“Do you suppose he’d let me...” she murmurs. “Would he be insulted if I try to...”

“You won’t any more than lose a hand,” Brody offers, folding his arms across his chest and snickering.

Of course, Connor can’t just stand there and take it, retaining what little dignity he has left. Oh no, he’s got to drain that shit to dregs. He extends his front paws until he’s lying flat on the ground, rolling over like a complete dimwit. Yeah, you read that right. He exposes his midriff to her.

“He hasn’t found his grace yet,” Brody explains.

“How old is he?” she asks.

“About fifty years old,” Brody reports.

She laughs. The sound is nails on a chalkboard. “He’s older than you?”

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“Go ahead. Laugh it up,” he grumbles. “When pupper cub takes off a limb, I don’t want to hear any whining.”

“He won’t hurt me.” She takes a tentative step closer but stops immediately when his giant tail slaps against the ground. Fuck, I love that sound. It’s close to thunder.

“You sure about that?” Brody chides her.

I watch from a distance as she molests my brother, while he loves every second of it. He proceeds to yip and give her a sloppy lick up her arm, which she wipes on her pants.

“You’re absolutely adorable!” Fuck, there’s that damn baby voice again.

He clearly has no idea how asinine he looks. He’s insulting all of us by allowing her to carry on this way. She scratches and pats him for another few minutes before a loud coughing sound takes away all her fun. The blonde one gets brownie points for interrupting.

“I don’t think smelling like a wild animal is the kind of impression you want to make tonight,” Tally taunts her. She loses the points. Easy come. Easy go.

“What do you care, Daisy-pusher?” Brody retorts.

“Yeah, you’ll be too busy making googly-eyes at Barry to worry about my smell anyway,” Sheyla adds.

Barbie smirks and turns toward the house, stopping halfway to shoot some more shit. “Suit yourself. Something tells me Derry won’t like it though.”

The girl actually gasps. I’m not fucking with you. She legit does that. Her predictability is disappointing. When she runs away inside, I join Brody and Connor.

“Tally’s up to something,” I hiss.

“What else is new?” Brody states.

“I could always eat the girl,” I offer. “Save the lives of the guests. You two ass pirates are all about saving lives, right?”

Connor shifts back to human skin, pulling on his jogging shorts. “You’re a dick, Molly.”

“What? I’ll share,” I persist. “Supposedly, she has plenty to go around. She’s a smorgasbord of wonderful.”

Brody doesn’t believe in calling energy consumption ‘eating’. He doesn’t call it ‘medicating’ either. There’s a whole formal terminology in play now, as if applying science to what we are helps the fucker digest it more easily. According to Mr. Fancy Pants, energy transfer from like elements (i.e., earth to earth) is called augmentation, whereas energy transfer from unlike elements (i.e., fire to earth) is called supplementation. You know what I call it? Eating. Why? That’s exactly what it is. We’re eating their damn energy, and Sheyla has lots to burn. Seems a shame to waste it.

“This isn’t ending well,” I announce. “Barbie Dreamhouse will land that girl in a pile of hot garbage. Just wait and see.”

“That’s all we can do, Molly,” Brody deflects. “Wait and see.”

“Well, I’m tired of waiting.”

“You should get to know her,” Brody petitions. “You’d change your mind about her.”

“Like fuck. My mind? Sturdy as rock solid shit.”

“An emotionally constipated mind, for sure,” Connor spits.

“Better than the emotional diarrhea you lot keep spraying around.”

“Go be miserable somewhere else,” Brody growls.

I bat my lashes at him. “But misery loves company.”

“Not when the company is named Molly.”

“Miserable Molly,” Connor muses.

“Better than cheerful Connor, the baby bear-pup,” I clap back.

Connor shakes his head. “Lame.”

“Seriously,” I push. “Does this seem like a valuable use of anyone’s time? A bonfire?”

“She needs the opportunity to be human,” Brody defends her.

“She’s not human,” I remind them. “It’d do you all good to remember that.”

“She might stay human,” Brody volleys.

“Yeah, you might grow your water legs too.”

He scowls. I know it isn’t nice to jab at his sore spot. He was supposed to be the prodigal water baby we were missing. Not fresh news, he isn’t. I wish they’d all stow their stupid hopes. They aren’t reality. That hopeful horseshit is just leaving more of a mess for me to clean up. Fuck, I wish she’d go ahead and scorch the earth. Okay, maybe not the whole earth. This girl, as in me, still needs to eat after all.