literal leigh 05 - joyful leigh (18 page)

I’m just not good at accepting things. I feel awkward about it and I don’t know why. That doesn’t mean I don’t love getting gifts, not by a longshot. “Okay, thank you.” A clear plastic box was revealed after I tore off the paper. “A snowflake!” I opened the box and lifted out the silver snowflake. “It’s a necklace! A silver snowflake necklace!” I was impressed. This guy knows me well. “Here, take it.” I handed him the necklace and I turned around. I lifted the hair up from my neck and he knew just what to do. His strong hands reached around as he brought the chain around my neck. He purposefully breathed close to my ear, sending shivers down my spine as he kissed my ear lightly. Then he kissed the back of my neck before he carefully fastened the clasp and kissed my neck one more time.

My heart pounded and my skin tingled. I turned around and kissed him. “Thank you. Now, don’t you want to unwrap your gift?” I winked and didn’t have to say another word. Hunter continued with the light kisses around my neck as he unbuttoned my sweater. The kisses didn’t stop until the only items that remained on my body were the little snowflake necklace and my diamond ring. That night we made love in the candlelight, on the weird rug that Randy had picked out.

For the next few days of Hanukkah, Hunter gave me more small gifts. One day it was a box of chocolates, another day a half dozen roses, then a bookmark in the shape of a silver snowflake. I had to reciprocate with more than just throwing my naked body at him. To be honest, it seemed like I was getting more of a gift than he was receiving with the gift exchange. But, as they say, “it truly is better to give than to receive” and this only proved it to be true. Still, I had to come up with something. That’s when I discovered the bargain tool bin at the local hardware store.

The fifth night of our little gift exchange, I handed him a wrapped cardboard box with enough small presents in it to make up for the previous days when I had nothing to offer. Nothing other than shamelessly throwing my body at him. “Leigh! I told you, you didn’t have to give me anything. I was doing this just for you.” He wasted no time in ripping the box open.

“I hope you can use it. It’s…it’s …tools.” I wasn’t really sure what the different gadgets were in the bargain bin. I just made sure I had enough of them. I even packed the box with enough scrap paper so it wouldn’t rattle too much.

“Whatever it is, I already know it’ll be perfect because it’s from you! Let’s see what’s in here.” He pawed around in the box and tossed aside the crumpled pieces of paper I had stuffed among the gifts. “An easy out, a set of drill bits, a little clamp, a spark plug gap gauge, and a funnel.” One of the balled up pieces of paper fell out and it unraveled. Something on it caught his eye. I saw it, too. It was a page that I had torn from a magazine earlier in the day. It was a picture of a nice wedding gown that I meant to save. Curiously, Hunter looked at it but didn’t say anything and for some reason I felt slightly disappointed.

On the morning of the sixth day of Hanukkah, Hunter was at work and I was upstairs in the shower. I thought I had heard something. A beeping noise. I should mention that we had been hearing turkey sounds on occasion and knew our runaway turkey was still hanging around the neighborhood. I didn’t think this was the turkey. When I heard loud banging noises, I shut off the water, quickly toweled off, and grabbed my fluffy bathrobe.

“Luna? Come on, stay with me.” I was worried the paranoid conspiracy that Sybil told me wasn’t the load of bull I counted on. My heart was racing with a fresh shot of adrenaline. “We’ll look from the bedroom window.” Down below, in our little front yard was a huge brown pile of what I thought was mud. Next to it was a structure made of huge moss covered boulders. “What the hell?” I saw a large truck driving away down the street and realized the noises I had heard was the truck dropping this trash in my yard.

With Luna in my arms, we went out to the sidewalk so we could get a closer look. The stones were arranged to form a small shelter. There was a door on the front made of dark wood and a little silver door knocker in the shape of a dagger. “Should I open it?”

“Meow.” I took that as a definite “no.”

The pile of mud wasn’t what I thought either. It was brown, smooth, and solid like cement that had been shaped into a small brown adobe hut in an almost igloo shape. It too had a wooden door with a five pointed star, a pentagram, burnt into it. The thing had a familiar smell about it. “Gingerbread! This is my gingerbread house I wished for? I call bullshit! It’s supposed to be cute and decorated with goddam gumdrops and fucking frosting.” I paced in front of the two structures and came to the conclusion the hovel of mossy rocks was probably my elf house. “It’s supposed to look like Christmas! Like in one of those cartoons!” I growled and paced. “What the fuck?”

“What the fuck indeed.” A woman’s voice said from behind me. I turned around and saw the women from the neighborhood watch.

“Oh, here we go. Bitches on a mission,” I mumbled to Luna.

“You cannot leave this trash in your yard, missy,” the scary woman who ran from my house said. “I don’t care if you are some kind of witch. This is a respectable neighborhood.”

“First, I am not a
missy
. It’s degrading. Secondly, this is
my
yard.
My yard
, not yours. I suggest you go home and worry about
your
yard.”

“There are ordinances you know. Ordinances about creating a public health and safety problem. What is that muddy looking thing anyway?”

“It looks like a dinosaur took a dump,” one of the other women said rudely.

The first woman, the one I assumed was the leader walked up to it. “Let’s just see.” She grabbed the handle of the door and tried to open it. “I think this witch is hiding something in here. Probably one of those meth labs we’ve heard about at our neighborhood watch meetings.” The other two women joined her in attempting to access the gingerbread igloo. Without warning, the door swung out and what I can only describe as a hideous dark clawed hand snagged the women inside. It was accomplished with lightning quick speed.

I was shaking and my voice quietly quivered. “Oh shit. What was that? The neighborhood watch…gone.”

The door opened slowly this time. A little old woman covered in a ragged black shroud walked out. She had a crooked walking stick made from a dark brown tree branch. It shined from years of handling. “Hello. You must be the young witch who brought me here. Pretty good magic, pretty damn good indeed.” She looked around at the street we lived on. “Huh. I’m a country gal myself, but to each their own.”

“Hello…I…I’m Leigh Epstein and this is my cat, Luna. Sorry about that, I was only trying to get a gingerbread house. Not yours in particular.”

“Oh don’t sweat it, Leigh. I don’t mind a change of scenery. The name’s Dalia by the way.”

“D…D…Dalia? You wouldn’t by any chance be from Lithuania would you?”

“Of course I am! I’m a ragana. That’s just another kind of witch. I tend to stay to myself in the forest. People are too quick to judge someone like me. Just like those brothers Grimm—assholes and their little fairy tales. If I ever get my claws on those sons of bitches, they’ll beg for mercy. I mean look at those stories and how they turned it all around. Prince Charming? Yeah right. Those princes were just obsessed horse jockeys and asshats of the first degree. You know, I was out in beautiful maiden form one day, minding my own. Along comes some prick on a pony. Says he needs to rescue a maiden in order to get some cheesy medal or something. I says ‘sure, you can say you rescue me, but you gotta give me some of that lance-a-lot, if ya know what I mean.’ I take him back to my place, and I changed into something more comfortable. Same thing I have on right now. Suddenly he can’t raise his flag, I mean his noodle went limp. You know what I’m saying, Leigh? He starts blaming it on me being a witch. I told him to quit crying like a little bitch. Well, one thing led to another, like fights do. I cut his arm off and he ran away. So guys like him. Those are the real Prince Charmings that the Grimms’ lied about.”

“Let me guess. That knight’s name was Villius.”

“Yeah! You know Villius? You try to get him to fill your tank, too? You know, try to get him to ride in the pink Cadillac? Shampoo the wookie? Tickle you with the unicorn horn? Do you get what I’m
saying
, Leigh?”

“Uh…uh…yes, I get what you’re saying. And no, I’ve never met him. I’ve only heard the legend about his knightly order.”

“What? Holy Odin! That half lanced jester got a legendary knightly order? And I got to be the old bag from Hansel and Gretel?”

“I suppose, but his order is evil. They’ve been persecuting witches and magical beings for centuries. And I’ve found out that they are targeting me and my friends now.”

Dalia struck a defiant pose. “Well, then you found the right woman to help you out. I love a good fight. Bring those bastards on!”

I looked over Dalia’s shoulder. “By the way, what happened to the neighborhood watch people?”

“Dee-lish-ee-ous! Mmm…just kidding. I threw them nasty skanks through a portal back into whatever shacks they crawled out of. They’ll have some pretty terrifying nightmares for the rest of their lives, otherwise they’re unharmed. Say, you’re pretty brave. You took the Elfa’s house, too?” Dalia pointed in the direction of my newly acquired rock pile.

“What?”

“That pile of rocks. It’s the Elfa house. I’d recognize it anywhere. The Elfa is the supreme leader of the elves. You have some real chutzpa to pull that son of a bitch into this fight.”

“Hmm.” I thought about my
Sleighing the Elfa
story, but I wasn’t about to tell Dalia about it, yet. “I haven’t met him yet. Or any elves. Tell me, what are they like?”

“Evil. Fun to party with, but they are usually up to no good. That’s another thing. How they got to be considered to be good, and cute and all, I don’t understand. They are anything but those things. Pth..elves. You shouldn’t have too much to worry about, Leigh. Just as long as you don’t take sides in one of their fights, that is. As a matter of fact, I’ve heard they are in the middle of one big tussle right now. The Elfa has been challenged and he’s fighting to keep his position. They act like a pack of wild dogs. But if you can keep them together, they’ll be good to have on your side.” Dalia explained.

“Would you like to come inside, Dalia? You’re more than welcome to.”

“Well, I have a few things to do. Are you expecting the Elfa anytime soon? They are almost always back in their lairs by nightfall. I’d like to look…presentable…you know, for him. You don’t have dibs on him do you?”

“No. No, I don’t have plans with him. I honestly don’t know when to expect any elves,” I answered.

“Good, because I’m getting a little tired of having to rock the little man in the canoe all by my lonesome. Get what I’m saying, Leigh? I’ve heard the Elfa knows how to please the beaver with his oral talents. Not like those men that go at it like they’re a damn thirsty dog lapping up a bowl of water. No, no. I’m talking the mind blowing orgasm kind of talent. Later ‘gator, I’ve got to prepare,” Dalia said and disappeared back into her gingerbread house.

Chapter Twenty Four

The EPA

“Leigh? Are those things the decorations you won?” Hunter asked after getting home. Actually, I believe he asked it in a more of a disappointed sigh.

“Yeah. It didn’t work out right. Apparently, that is what a real gingerbread house and a real elf house look like. Go figure. And the gingerbread house comes with an old witch. I think it’s best to leave her alone. We’ll get these out of here soon. I’ll ask Marie for some advice.”

“An old witch? You mean like Esmeralda or Marie?” Hunter asked.

“Not quite. This witch is more like the one that added Hansel and Gretel on the menu. I’m talking old school style witch. She says she can transform into a sexy storybook princess or damsel in distress. She’s a naughty little thing, and I think she uses that power to seduce her lovers. She shared some pretty graphic euphemisms for sex as well.”

Hunter cocked his head as he listened to my description of Dalia, and then just shrugged his shoulders. “Uh huh. Sounds like she’ll fit right in with Esmeralda and Kelly. So tell me one of her little lines that I may not know. I’m pretty sure that by now I’ve heard them all from your friends.”

“How about
shampooing the wookie
?”

Hunter’s face contorted with a disgusted look. “Holy hell! It sounds like too much fur. And messy. I’m going to throw up now and get changed.”

Hunter headed upstairs just as there was a knock on the door. “I’ll get it!” I called out. I opened the door and saw two large men in suits, the kind that only federal agents would wear. In other words, they were black with white shirts and black ties.

“Leigh Epstein?” One of them asked as they flashed badges at me. “We’re from the EPA and have some questions.” He had an accent that was possibly German but I couldn’t tell for certain.

“The EPA? Wait…I know that. EPA, E…P…A.” I slowly spelled out the letters to jog my memory. It was some federal agency I heard about on the news pretty frequently. Then it came to me. I realized that it had to be the Environmental Protection Agency. “Oh shit! Is this about the chemical that was put in the attic to get rid of the bats?” I whispered. “I have no idea what was used.”

“Bats? Ma’am, we’re not here about any bats,” he replied.

“Oh damn! I am so sorry. I know what it is. Sometimes I get confused about the recycling. It’s not as easy as it’s made out to be, you know. I try to follow the little numbers and symbols listed on the packaging, but when you have to sort it out twenty different ways, things are bound to get mixed up. And I confess, sometimes I end up giving in to laziness and just throwing it all in the trash. If you let me off with a warning, I promise to follow the recycling rules to the tee. By the way, what are your names?” I thought if I could get on a more personal first name basis they might just give me the warning I suggested.

“Sturm und Drang,” the second EPA agent said in a Germanic accent.