co-written by Detergent and Verhalen
It was Wednesday, December fourth, and snowing. Snow usually made Sören happy, but as Yeyette saw him sitting by the window covered in blankets, looking out at the snow, it seemed like he was looking at something many miles away. She could also feel him shielding his mind harder than usual.
"Sören?" Yeyette folded her arms. "What is it?"
"I'm fine," Sören said, his tone flat.
Yeyette shook her head and gave his mind a gentle nudge with the Force. You're not fine. We know that's bullshit.
Sören sighed, and looked down. He shrugged.
Nicholas and Anthony were both at the university, so she couldn't quite confirm without them present, but she didn't get the sense there had been a spat, there was none of that tension lingering in the air. Nonetheless, that was her first question. "Are you and the boys OK?" It felt weird referring to someone Nicholas's age as "boy", but then, she had been his older sister, back in the day.
Sören nodded. "It's not that."
"But it's something else." Yeyette put a hand on her hip.
"Someone else."
"Juniper again?" Yeyette knew that wound was still fresh, and was going to bleed for quite a long time.
Sören nodded again. He rubbed his face like an annoyed wet cat, then pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled sharply. "Today is the two-year anniversary of when..."
"When it ended?"
"Yeah."
This called for cheesecake. "You did say you hadn't told me the whole story. I know it's bad, but -"
"It was a lot worse than what I'd told you." Sören looked out the window again and shivered despite the blankets.
"OK, well... how about I make us a treat, and when it's ready, you can open up about it? That might help."
Sören hesitated, like he'd rather have his teeth pulled than discuss having his heart broken, but finally he said, simply, "Jæja."
_
"So HOW many people were in bed with her?" Yeyette set the large cheesecake she'd just unmolded from the springform in front of Sören and put the form in the sink to soak.
"Four. She was all dressed up like a Dollar Store slave-Leia minus bottoms and there was some Hot Topic'ed-out guy with red hair, a woman with a medieval gown only half on, one man rubbing his dingdong on guitar.."
"What?" She stopped cutting the cheesecake in mid-slice and stared.
"I'm serious. Judging by the clothes on the floor, he was a bard. I don't know what was going on there. Your kink doesn't have to be my kink but I'm not into stringed instruments."
"No," she shook her head and finished plating a big piece of the dessert and handed it to him with a fork. "Cock-strumming the guitar is pretty damn weird."
"Takk. What is in this?" He didn't wait for an answer but shoveled a big bite into his mouth. "Oh, it's GOOD."
"Thank you. There are toffee bars, coffee liquor, toasted almond crumbs, cocoa- the good kind, not Hershey's, vanilla bean, and chocolate flake. I like to make something fancy every now and again." She cut herself a slice and brought two tiny cups of fresh espresso to the table.
"The last person was Larry, the one whose father owns the Carnival, the one who has been commenting on her Photogram for months. You know, the one she kept telling me that was just a friend?"
" 'You're just paranoid, Sören. Larry and I only talk about work.' " She snarked in a sing-song voice. "Surrrreee."
"Já. I broke down. Couldn't help it. I should not have believed her but you know how I can be sometimes. Later, I saw she accidentally left herself logged in on my tablet and there it all was- Juniper and Larry were laughing at me and I even saw the plans where they had invited everyone over because I was supposed to be at the conference but it got cancelled."
Yeyette rolled her eyes. "And they trashed your place?"
"Yes." His eyes began to fill. She patted his arm. "Yes, me, Nicholas, and Anthony we going to move in together but I hadn't boxed anything up yet. We were due to sign the lease in a few days. I didn't think she cared because she'd grown so distant. I tried to tell her maybe she and I needed some space and things might get better if I moved out... but she just stopped caring and broke all of my DVDs, cut up my stuffed animal collection. She burnt most of my clothes and smashed the tower of my desktop. She even smashed my clay sculptures, even the one I did of myself, Nicholas, and Anthony."
"Bitch."
"Já," he answered forlornly.
They ate the dessert in silence for a few minutes.
"You know, if curses were real... those two deserve to be cursed for doing that to you, just that, never mind the bullshit they pulled back in September." Yeyette's fists clenched as she remembered. "They knew you'd find all of that when you got back from your conference."
"There are plenty of curses in the old manuscripts back home in Iceland. They speak of asking the alfar to curse people with things like crop failure," he thought for a minute and then took out his phone. "They're mostly in runes, the curses."
Yeyette perked up. "Are we 'goin' ta make awferins to tha alfar'? Like Thule Magician Fred in the cartoon?"
Sören snorted, remembering the cartoon they had found on Public Access Television one night during University. "Look here, there are the Fart Runes, they are to afflict your enemies with horrible gut pains and unending gas until they fart themselves to death. We should make some 'awfrins' to the alfar."
His friend began to giggle as they both held up their plates. "We make awfrins to tha alfar. Hear us! Afflict Juniper and Larry with the dread Fart Runes!" Yeyette intoned in a mock-solemn voice.
"I beseech you by galdrin' the roons," Sören took over and began to read the fretrúnir. "Feeeeehhhhuuuuu!..." He read them all, imitating Thule Magician Fred's thick Jersey accent.
They both broke into uproarious laughter.
When the spell was done, Sören said, "Well, I feel a bit better. I'm glad all that witchcraft shit isn't real. Think of all of the greenhouse gases coming out of their asses and the climate change if they farted until they died..."
They were still laughing when DeKalb, Victor, Nicholas, and Anthony arrived home at the same time and all walked in together. "What's so funny?" Anthony asked.
"Oh, you know, we cursed Juniper and Larry to fart themselves to death," Yeyette said. "As one does."
"They should die," Anthony said, nodding.
"Tell us how you really feel," Sören said.
Anthony snarled - one of those rare moments when the British archaeologist dropped his cool, aloof demeanor and reminded everyone he was not someone to run afoul of. "After what she put you through..."
"Indeed," Nicholas said. "As you know, I normally don't wish death upon people, but I make an exception here."
DeKalb went over to the coffee pot, and then he paused, stroking his chin, looking deep in thought. "It would be real interesting if that curse transformed."
"Transformed?" Sören raised an eyebrow.
"There's an old folklore story, I forget exactly how it goes, but the girl doesn't like the way she talks and asks some spirit type to help her 'speak beauty'. Then... things start falling out of her mouth. Pearls. Gold. Lace. That Larry guy seemed really hung up on aesthetic when we were at the Carnival back in August, like his shit didn't stink and ours did."
"And he had such a quaint manner of speaking," Victor said.
Sören nodded. "Juniper told me - when we were still together and they were supposedly 'just friends'..." Sören's fingers made air quotes. "That his mother, who comes from some sheep farm in the UK, raised him on things like Shakespeare thinking it would make him 'cultured', and of course a little kid isn't going to learn proper English that way, or proper archaic English, he really mangles it... but he looks down on other people for using 'modern English' and he's... just a judgemental douche in general, like when I caught him and Juniper making fun of me in a discussion space behind my back, Larry said I look like a homeless person, and made fun of me for having 'basic' tastes, and..." Sören's voice trailed off.
"He sounds truly charming," Nicholas said dryly.
"Yes, definitely deserves to shit stuff like literal roses, with the thorns still on... and diamond rings," DeKalb said. "Or an entire chandelier."
Anthony almost spat his coffee.
"Great, I'd have to see him in the ER with prolapse," Sören said, making a face. Then he snickered. "Couldn't happen to a better guy."
"I'd say it would happen to Juniper, too," Yeyette said, "but she's probably had so many cocks up there that a chandelier wouldn't stretch her at all. Like the Grand Canyon."
"Wow," Sören said. "Just... wow."
"Who wants cheesecake?" Yeyette looked at the four gentlemen.
"Er," Anthony said, furrowing his brow. "I normally would never refuse cake, but after thinking about Juniper's..." He couldn't finish the sentence. "And... and prolapse..."
"Well, at least you know it would never happen," Yeyette said. "Witchcraft isn't real."
"Thank fuck for that," DeKalb said, raising his cup of coffee. "I've had about all the spoop I can handle."
_
Laurentius Hortler roused from his nap when he heard Juniper pull in. He came downstairs and once she walked in the door, he took the younger woman into his arms. Usually she was enthusiastic about greeting him, but now she returned the hug weakly, and couldn't quite manage a smile.
Laurentius cupped her chin and made her look into his eyes. "What arteth the matter?"
"Oh... I don't feel good."
"Dost thou havest a migraine again?" She claimed to have them a lot, and Laurentius wasn't so sure - they often seemed to come up when she was trying to get out of handling various responsibilities at work, or, more particularly, when she wanted to spend time with other partners and didn't want to admit that was what she was doing. Laurentius put up with it; she was useful for now. But he felt himself bristling - the migraine excuse was getting a bit old.
Before Juniper could answer, she let out a very loud, and very ripe, fart. Laurentius recoiled, pulling back from her, nose twitching at the pungent odor.
"Yeah, my stomach's acting up." Juniper frowned. "Must have been something I ate."
"Thou didn't eateth Taco Bell again, I hopeth?" Laurentius didn't like her habit of occasionally indulging in such things.
"No. I don't know why -" And then, another fart.
Laurentius was hoping to have sex - he'd had an exhausting day helping his father in the lab; meth production was at an all-time high, and with it, the sort of magic he and his mother worked into the crystals. Sex helped recharge him, though it drained the life force of whoever he was having sex with. If Juniper hadn't been farting, Laurentius would still attempt to seduce her, not caring if the drain made her feel worse - again, she was useful - but now he felt absolutely repulsed.
He left without a word. He'd be back, and maybe someday in the near future he could put his disgust aside. But now, a man had needs, and he was going to get them met.
Laurentius arrived at the garage wearing a set of immaculate mechanic's coveralls. Over the left breast was his name in gold thread. His real name and none of that hick 'Larry' nonsense. The garage was nearly spotless and all metal within had been chromed within an inch of its life. Inside, on the dolly waited the object of his conquest. He typed the passcode into the alarm panel and let himself into the bay. "Daddy's home, pretty," he said, switching on the floodlights.
The powerful lights dazzled off the hundreds of carats of cubic zirconia that decorated the black faux leather that suggestively hugged his baby's curving bosom. "I see thou dressedeth up for me," he approved. He crossed the glossy concrete floor and began pulling his black toolchest across the floor. "I've got something special for thee tonight, pretty."
A demure beep echoed softly through the garage.
He smiled at that. He then fobbed himself into another room and brought out a gold chrome wheel lock.
BEEP BEEP! honked the car on the forks, seductive siren that it was.
Laurentius pushed a button on the control panel nearby and lowered the dolly until the car's four shiny black tires were firmly on the concrete.
"Thou hadstn't been a good boy lately. Thou causedth me to get a speeding ticket in a school zone yesterday. Daddy's going to have to teachest thee how to behave," he admonished the Bentley. The car's engine revved twice. "Don't argue. If thou artest bad, thou get punished."
He wheeled the golden wheel lock to the front of the car and clamped it on...
...and then he let out a fart, even louder and more foul-smelling than the one Juniper had produced.
"Oh no. That canst not be good."
_
Three days later, Juniper and Laurentius were still farting. Laurentius was farting so much that his father told him not to come to the lab until it stopped.
But it wasn't stopping. It was getting more frequent, and worse-smelling every time. Laurentius was starting to sleep in the basement because the two of them farting in the same room was unbearable.
And of course, he wasn't sleeping well - it was December in Indiana, and the basement was drafty. Laurentius liked to pretend that the cold didn't bother him, but he was mortal now - and resented it.
The thing he resented most about being in a human body these days was the shitting, a fact of life humans could not avoid. As Laurentius lay there awake, seething at his existence, his stomach began to gurgle again, and this time instead of farting, he knew he was having the runs. He just barely made it to the bathroom in time.
It was painful, the most painful shit he'd ever passed. It turned out there was a reason for that - when he looked in the toilet, he saw he'd shat what looked like a brick of gold.
He fished it out, and it did, in fact, have the texture and consistency of something more like a brick of gold, rather than a normal shit.
His entire adult life, he'd wanted to not have to deal with the foulness of shitting. But he wasn't sure this was better. A chill went down his spine. Something very strange was happening here, stranger even than the magic he was working in his father's lab.
Then Juniper farted so loud he could hear it through the floor.