Crazy Weather We’re Having — Night Woofs
Every few weeks, the goddess Dauna was obligated to return to her island of Kupaio to visit her people and manage her lucrative coffee plantations. For the next few weeks, she would have little time for fun. Dauna’s Outta My Way Asshole Coffee Company was about to release its strongest brew ever, to be christened ‘What The Fuck You Looking At, Buddy?’
So, again, Dauna sent her friend, Artemis, who Wikigods calls ‘an avowed virgin and hater of men,’ to look after her pet human.
Artemis had recently read a quote, ‘The penis mightier than the sword’ in a poorly printed copy of a play by Lord Lytton and believed Bernie’s ‘broken spear’ must be made strong enough to defend himself against the mad Viking MacHeath who wanted him dead.
The bright moonlight and thunder from Artemis’ 1970 midnight blue Hemi Barracuda (license plate: HUNTRSS) not only heralded the goddess’ arrival, but had scared the Hotat savages — loitering and guzzling sea water in the alley in front of Bernie’s bungalow — into hiding.
By this time, Artemis long-legged stride from her car had slowed a bit. She had been spending too many nights behind the wheel of her car cruising for fast food when she should have been pursuing active game throughout mythical forests and night skies. She’d added on a few pounds during her first two weeks in LA. The white tunic had shrunk…a taste.
Bernie had just downed a couple of beers. The ungrateful fool needed help falling asleep because of psychological and physical abuse inflicted by both the tasty caramel treat, Dauna and her statuesque buddy, Artemis. Awwww poor baby.
For some twisted reason, Bernie’s new bud, Jesus, chose Bernie’s buzzing moment to speak to him through the muzzle of the Doberman pincher next door.
“Woof woof woof! (It’s me. Your pal, J.C. Wake up!)”
“Go away,” Bernie whined, smashing his face into the pillow.
Jesus continued to speak. “Bark! Bark! Bark! Bark! Bark! Bark! (Both your goddess girlfriends are intent on killing you! Send me the one that you will reject and I promise that the threat will be reduced by half.)”
The Messiah continued to bark and growl from beyond the fence “(Just be warned that while you get to know the goddesses you will be just as ‘uh-oh-I’m-fucked’ as ever. Probably more so. Did I just say that in English? What I really meant to say was…) Woof! Woof! Woof! And woof! Woof!”
It had occurred to Bernie that the Messiah had probably never gotten any “Woof! Woof! Woof!” He should be pissed.
“Woof! Arf. Arf!” (I never had a whiff of woof upon my doggy nose or a drop of ‘Woof! Woof!’ on my lolling doggie tongue). The barking faded.
A soft woman’s voice whispered from the shadows, “At least, Bernie, you’ve had some ‘Woof! Some ‘Arf!’ and even buried your bone in a nice deep ‘Bark!’”
Bernie opened one eye. Uh oh.
The goddess Artemis and Bernie’s errant cat, Bomba (Artemis’ new foody friend) emerged into the light streaming through the bedroom window.
Her long legs were lit by the soft moonbeams. “It’s so warm tonight,” said Artemis, who was holding a large postcard (?) and fanning her thinly veiled body. “I may have gained a few ounces. Did you notice?”
“Ak!” Though Bernie was safe in bed, his soul leapt from his heart and crashed — ‘thump’ — to the floor.
She turned around. “Sorry, Bernie.” Artemis held forward the large card that she’d been using as a fan. “Would you look at this for me, Bernie? Bernie!” She smacked him on the head with the cardboard. “Someone left this card on the seat of my car and I don’t understand what it means.”
Artemis walked around the bed and leaned over Bernie’s pillow. “Read it to me, human.”
“Uh, yeah. The card says, ‘It’s time to have your tires rotated.’”
“Rotate my tires?” Inches away from Bernie’s schnoz, she pulled on the fabric adhering to her every contour and continued to fan.