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The Life Fantastic
Part Nineteen: Wherein Jabber fails to convince Vicky that he's dying

Part Nineteen: Wherein Jabber fails to convince Vicky that he's dying

The next day Jabber entered the Devil’s Garden and looked around the dim interior for Vicky. She was seated on a red plush banquette behind a table for two.

“Vicky!” Jabber said, with a large smile. “I’m so sorry I’m late!”

“It’s fine,” Vicky said as she stood and extended both her hands to Jabber’s, pecking him lightly on the cheeks. She wore a red and white flame-patterned mini dress. As always, she smelled of toasted honey and her skin was as soft as gossamer. Her wolf pendant hung from her neck, drawing Jabber’s fascinated attention as they sat down.

“So how are you feeling?” Jabber asked.

The smile on Vicky’s face froze for a moment. “I’m doing much better.”

“That’s wonderful! I’m so sorry, you know, about the, uh, holy water situation . . . I mean I’m truly penitent.”

“Yes, thank you.” Vicky nodded. “Maybe next time, just let me handle your aphrodisiac needs?”

“Next time?” Jabber raised his eyebrows happily.

“Oh you know what I mean,” Vicky laughed, half-annoyed.

Jabber chuckled with her and looked down at the menu. “Oh my Lord!” he said all at once.

“What is it?”

“I’m . . . ” Jabber moved around in his chair. “I’m sinking. Look at the cushion on my chair, it’s completely limp.”

Vicky gave a snicker. “Oh indeed, you are sinking! I can see the shiny pate of your head now!”

“How is this possible?” Jabber said, shifting around. “Everywhere I go something has to be limp. It’s like an epidemic of limpiness . . . but I’m going solve that at my wing shop, you know.”

“Your wing shop?”

“Yes, I told you about it. Jabber’s Flappers! All the chairs will be made out of marble. Limp proof!” the magician said as he stood up. “I can’t stand this chair. Do you mind if I sit next to you?”

“What are you doing?” Vicky responded, scooting slightly away as Jabber sat on the banquette next to her.

“Ah yes, this banquette is much more firm!” Jabber said as he bounced up and down a bit to test it.

“Can you just please return to your own chair?”

“What’s the issue?” Jabber looked at her in surprise. “It’s the same as if we were sitting at a bar together.”

Vicky placed her hand on her neck as she turned her head away from him. “It’s a little too intimate for my liking.”

“But we are intimate,” Jabber replied.

“Not in public!” Vicky hissed.

Just then a middle-aged demon entered the restaurant. He had curling horns to each side of his conical helmet, a purple and yellow tartan kilt, a large double headed axe strapped to his back, a sheathed dirk at his belt, and a large purple canvas carrying bag. He smiled at the hostess as he handed her some letters.

“Well, will you look at that?” Jabber said.

“What?” Vicky asked.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“It’s my mail-demon!”

The middle-aged demon noticed Jabber and gave him a little wave. Jabber waved back. “Good afternoon to you, sir!” the magician called.

The demon then saw Vicky and frowned, a questioning look in his eyes.

“Can you just go back to your seat please?” Vicky insisted.

As the mail-demon left, he looked towards them again with a frown on his face and then exited the restaurant.

“There’s something about that demon I don’t like,” Jabber said. “Something off about him.”

“Jabber!” Vicky hissed.

“What is it?”

“You can’t sit here!”

Jabber sighed as he shifted back to the seat opposite Vicky.

“Thank you,” Vicky said, now smiling. “So how are you doing? How are you feeling about everything?”

Jabber puffed his cheeks out as he exhaled. “There’s a big obtrusive angel-elephant in the room isn’t there?”

“Yes,” Vicky chuckled. “He’s a growing boy . . . so what are you thinking about us?”

“What am I thinking?” Jabber asked. “Vicky, I’ve always thought the same thing from the moment we first met. I want to be with you. Always. I wish the Lord was here for me to pray for us to get back together so I could make an honest she-demon out of you again.”

Vicky smiled. “You know that’s impossible, don’t you?”

“Impossible? But why?”

“Theodore and I are committed to each other. I care about him . . . and, you know yourself, I had good reasons for not being able to stay with you.”

Jabber groaned. “Theodore! I can’t understand what you see in that perfect-haired curmudgeon.”

“Curmudgeon?” Vicky laughed out loud. “You’re calling Theodore a curmudgeon?”

“What?”

“You and I both know he’s the sweetest angel. Very thoughtful. He takes good care of me.”

“I could do better.”

“You didn’t do better,” Vicky responded, pointing to him with her water glass before taking a sip.

Jabber had no response for that. He just exhaled again and stared straight ahead, a crestfallen, partly wistful, expression on his face.

Vicky set her water down. “I think the best thing for us, right now, is to take a break from one another.”

“Was it the holy water?” Jabber interjected. “I swear on my mother’s soul above that I’ll never touch holy water again.”

“No, Jabber, listen. This all happened extremely fast for me. We need to put a brake on before it goes further.”

Jabber’s eyes suddenly perked up. The idea worming its way through his mind to his mouth was almost visible. “What if I were to tell you I was dying?”

At that moment, the angel waiter came to the table to refill their water glasses. Hearing what Jabber had asked, he looked in shock at the magician.

Vicky pursed her lips. “Are you dying Jabber?”

“Well no, not exactly,” Jabber said, shifting to gain some height on his soft cushion chair. “But I might have a malignant infernal infection.”

The waiter was now standing pen in hand to take their order. He looked back and forth between them, his eyebrows up in an expression full of concern at what he was hearing.

“Jabber!” Vicky said shocked. “Have you been seeing other demonesses on the side?”

“What?” Jabber responded. “No, not at all. I got some hellhound spittle mixed up with my magic, might have given me malignant daemonoplasmosis.”

“I’ll just return to you both later,” the waiter said, backing away

“Yes, that would be great. Thank you,” Jabber replied.

Vicky folded her arms, a clear lack of concern in her face. “A lot of people come into contact with demonic energies. Does strange things to humans sometimes.”

“But this one might be malignant.”

“But it’s probably not.”

“But if it were, would that, indeed, change your opinion on things as they stand now?”

“Why don’t we wait for the final prognosis.”

“And if it is malignant?”

“Well then, we’ll have to see.”

“We’ll have to see?” Jabber asked hopefully.

“Yes,” Vicky said, a smile returning to her face at the magician’s eager expression.

“I’ll take that.”

“Wonderful,” Vicky said. “Now where is that waiter?”