And excerpt from the upcoming Shark Fin Soup.
At dinner withe Interpol agent and demigod, Frankie, from Sumatra, and his date, Kali, the Hindu goddess of death, time and doomsday…
“ I could tell that it was your ‘multiple’ handiwork, baby. Very precise.”
“What’s with the ‘baby, Frankie?”
Frankie plopped a black ring box on the table. Inside was eight 270 Karat diamond rings. “Marry me?”
“Oh, my! So soon? I’m just getting over my marriage to Shiva.”
“Couldn’t you just kill him? That worked before. And then we can be together.”
“Shiva and I are no longer an item. Now…” Kali wiped away a green tear. “The bastard found — sniff — himself someone else to dance on top of him throughout eternity. The Nordic goddess, Frigg. Nice name, eh? He calls her his Swedish Meatball Tenderizer. Frigg. Friggin’ biotch.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to rush you or anything.”
“It’s okay. I’m over it. He told me that she was better (sniffles) than I was (tears) when it came to walking on his bad back. I tried to kill her, but she kept bouncing back like a…(sniff)…a…”
“A Wham-O Super Ball?”
“Yeah. You are so smart, Frankie.” Suddenly Kali began to seethe. She started to twist the table’s edge. She was getting wound up.
“Don’t rip up the table, doll face. I’m pals with Paulie, the owner.”
“Dauna told me about to a party at Dahmer’s Humanitarian Cafe tonight. They’ll be serving up MacHeath’s crew for our entertainment. Let’s say we go over there and you can watch me burn off some energy stomping on MacHeath’s loonies.”
“Sure, Sugar lips. We need to find you some sacrifices, baby. Let’s ditch this clambake.”