Mehndi (Mythklok Chapter 95)
Apr. 10th, 2012 04:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: Mehndi (Mythklok Chapter 95)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Balls and body art
Warnings: More Bollywood in-jokes no one will get
Notes: After jump
Last time: we bought a sitar and stood in line at the DMV. Mythklok, it just keeps getting better and better!
Information that is important to have: in one myth about Ganesha’s origins he was literally formed out of turmeric powder that Parvati had spread on her body to use as a kind of soap. In this version of the tale Parvati was annoyed that people kept interrupting her bath, so she created Ganesha as a sort of royal bouncer.
Oh, and it might also interest you to know that my husband just downloaded Steppenwolf's Greatest Hits so that's what I've been listening to over and over and over in the car this week.
“Id da daddoo, Daddy!”
“Yes, isn’t that nice?”
“Look Daddy loooooook!” insisted Elias, who despite having spent a scant three years in the physical realm, was no fool.
As now Murgatroyd, Elias’ wolf pup, was yipping as well for attention, Charles, surrendering to the inevitable, lowered the screen on his laptop and peered over his desk to where his child was dramatically huffing and puffing with the tremendous effort entailed at pulling his “Dick Knubbler presents Planet Piss Live and In Concert” T shirt up to display his newly decorated belly.
“Yes, that’s a very nice tattoo, Boon. Is that Facebones?” said Charles, a small smile barely edging up one side of his mouth.
“Uh-huh! Dat Facebone, and Wunky Nate-Nate drawed, and da daddoo!”
“Do you like Facebones?”
“Uh-huh!”
Charles was now openly grinning, as well as making a mental note to double the order for the Facebones bathtub squeaky toys. “That was very nice of your Uncle Nathan to do that. Did you say thank you?”
“Uh-huh! Said tankoo Wunky Nate!”
“We have MATCHING TATTOOS now!” announced Nathan from the doorway. He stomped in, Murderface at his heels, and displayed the unmistakeable visage of Facebones on his bulging bicep.
“Kaun,” commented Ullu, the little owl perched on Nathan’s shoulder.
“Well, isn’t that nice,” said Charles, who was peeking at his laptop to see about that Facebones squeaky toy order.
“Charles, you didn’t LOOOOOK!” thundered Nathan.
“Oh, uh, sorry. Yes, that’s … very nice Nathan,” said Charles, who whistled low as he looked up. Unlike his son, Nathan’s new body decoration was not limited to one area of his person. On the contrary, the lead singer now very much resembled that fabled character or song, Lydia the Tattooed Lady.
“It’sch not a real tatt,” sniffed Murderface, who seemed to be relatively free of new markings.
“Yeah, so?” asked Nathan.
“Mehndi is a traditional body art among my people,” said Ganesh, who had just appeared, sitting in a chair in Charles’ office. No one paid much notice to the sudden appearance, as such things seemed to happen these days at Mordhaus.
“Yeah, see, it’s all traditional and shit!” said Nathan. “And beside, you can WASH IT OFF when you get sick of it.”
“Er, that appears to be a matter of some misunderstanding, Nathan,” said Ganesh, who was eyeing the lead singer. Nathan was barely visible beneath much red-tinted cartooning that now marked his skin.
“Whaddya mean?” grunted Nathan. “How long is this stuff gonna last?” he asked, rubbing a cheek.
“Well, as you know,” said Charles, “I can’t get a tattoo of any kind, because I just True Form and it goes away.”
“Too Foam,” repeated Elias, who wonderingly sprouted his little wings: black feathered with silvery tips. Ganesh grinned and pulled up Elias’ shirt, and Elias gasped at his now bare belly.
“Where da Facebone?” he giggled.
“Oh, cool, your kid is like an Etch-A-Sketch!” said Nathan, who seized Elias and, to the boy’s utter delight, shook him over his head.
“But, er, the application of henna, for a human, like you, Nathan…” continued Ganesh.
“Yeah, so I’m human,” grumbled Nathan, plonking down Elias. “So how long? A day?”
“Er, well, for example, that lovely depiction of a male cock and balls which you have applied to your right cheek?” said Ganesh. Nathan unconsciously rubbed his new cheek-cock.
“A month,” said Charles, valiantly trying to hide his grin.
“Well, could be,” agreed Ganesh.
“I got a dick on my face for a fucking MONTH?” asked Nathan.
“You’re alwaysch a dick fasche to usch,” hooted Murderface.
“Shit! Can I get it off some other way?” proposed Nathan.
“Leechesch might do the trick,” wondered Murderface, who was an expert regarding ancient medical lore.
“Er,” said Ganesh, who actually had medical training.
“WAIT!” said Nathan. He leaned over to Ganesh and asked, “Does Skwisgaar know this?”
Ganesh looked over to Charles, who shrugged. “Er, I do not think so….”
“MURDERFACE!” said Nathan. The bassist flashed an evil grin, and, taking a moment to grab Elias once again, the two rushed from the office, Murgatroyd pattering after them.
“Shall we stop them?” asked Ganesh, who regardless did not move from the chair. “They appear to be a bit of a menace with a henna jar.”
“Not on your life,” said Charles, who was furiously clicking on his laptop. “Compared to what else those boys might get up to? Let them paint each other with dicks. So, anyway. You back from your perfume … thing?”
“Yes, my new eau de toilet is soon to be launched!” said Ganesh proudly.
“And why again are you doing this?” asked Charles, despite his mind being distracted by the logistics of transporting squeaky toys from Manchuria.
“Everyone who’s anyone has a perfume line nowadays,” said Ganesh. “And all proceeds to charity.”
“Yeah. Fuck charity.”
Ganesh grinned. “You appear mildly uninterested?”
“I dunno. If it actually smelled like you instead of a bunch of flowers and shit I’d be interested,” said Charles distractedly.
“Oh? And pray what do I smell like?” teased Ganesh.
“What?” said Charles, peeking up over the laptop and blushing slightly. “Uh. You know.”
“No, I do not know.”
Charles sighed and closed his laptop again. “Those cigarettes you sneak.” Ganesh chuckled. “And, there’s something else, like a spice?”
Ganesh smiled broadly, showing rows of perfect white teeth. “Come along,” he said, leaping up and grabbing Charles by the arm.
“Wait. I got stuff to do. Where are we going?” asked Charles, reaching back ineffectively for his precious laptop.
“You’ll see,” said Ganesh, pulling Charles along the corridor on a familiar route to the kitchen areas. Ganesh led him into the kitchen, past a clatter of activity – shouting and open flames and dropped plates and general chaos – as Chefateers prepared lunch, and through a swinging double doors back into the much more serene area Ganesh had set aside for preparing his own vegetarian-oriented meals. He called in Hindi to one of his own servants, who was up on a step ladder, rummaging through a bin. The servant grabbed something and tossed it to Ganesh. It looked like a root of some kind.
Ganesh snapped the root in two and held a piece under Charles’ nose.
“Yes! That’s it!” said Charles grabbing the orange-ish root and taking a big whiff. It looked something like a ginger root. Charles was pretty sure he had seen a ginger root somewhere. Whatever it was, it was slightly intoxicating.
“Turmeric,” smiled Ganesh.
Charles, looking a bit light-headed, pulled out a chair at a small kitchen table and sat down.
“So, you are coming to the opening party for my line of custom scents of course?” asked Ganesh.
“Oh, uh, I dunno,” said Charles.
“It will be held at the house of Khan Ali Khan, the biggest star in the Bollywood firmament! We could bring the boys. I am certain they will enjoy it: there will be multitudes of attractive women.”
“Ganesh, my lead singer has a dick painted on his face.”
“Yes,” laughed Ganesh. “I know an airbrush artist who I think could aid us in that matter. So, you will come?”
“Ganesh, I dunno,” said Charles, turning the Turmeric root over and over in his hands. “You know I’ll go with you to your family stuff. But we don’t usually do the human realm stuff together….”
“So if you are not worried about Dethklok’s behavior, what is the issue?” asked Ganesh, sitting down at the table next to Charles.
“Come on, Ganesh! Khan and all of them! They look like freaking supermodels.”
“This troubles you?”
“Aren’t these the guys you used to date?” asked Charles, suspicion edging into his voice.
“Ah! Well, I usually limited my dalliances to those who chose modeling as a career path, although I shall admit the lines have become more blurred in recent times,” said Ganesh, sitting back, a wide smile on his face.
“The guys. You used. To date!” said Charles, although it was more a grumble than a statement.
“Beauty should be appreciated! Especially beauty of the human ilk. For it is not fated to last,” lectured Ganesh. Charles emitted a sound that sounded awfully like a low growl. Ganesh leaned over, grinning like a cat.
“You like this, don’t you, Ganesh? You like me jealous?” asked Charles.
“Slightly jealous. Yes, it rather suits you. Now, were I to learn of the bodies of the most beloved filmi stars piling up in the back yard…” said Ganesh, waving a hand.
Charles scowled.
“Those persons mean nothing to me at present,” soothed Ganesh. “However, if you are concerned as to the propriety of my behavior, wouldn’t it then behoove you to attend, to keep me on the straight and narrow?” he purred, arching an eyebrow.
Charles glowered. “All right. I’ll go to your perfume thing.”
“Splendid,” said Ganesh, gracefully leaping up. “I shall text Porkchops immediately.”
“Porkchops?”
“An affectionate nickname for Khan,” said Ganesh, who was already on his way out.
“Affectionate?” Charles asked his new friend, the turmeric root.
“PORK CHOPS?” asked Nathan Explosion who had nearly collided with Ganesh on his way into the kitchen. “That sounds AWESOME.” He came in leading Elias by the hand.
“You ams not getsing dat junks back here!” scolded Skwisgaar, who came in dragging a sitar instead of his characteristic Gibson. The guitarist, Charles noted, remained free of henna body art. He supposed Nathan had been distracted from the prank by mention of food.
“Is that all you’re getting for lunch, Charles?” asked Nathan, thumping down at the table next to the manager.
“Huh? No,” said Charles, distractedly putting the turmeric root in his jacket pocket as Elias wriggled into his lap and Murgatroyd pattered over to curl up underneath. “What are you guys doing back here, anyway?”
“Eh, Skwisgaar is on some kinda HEALTH KICK, so he’s gonna eat stuff that’s all good for you and that kinda crap,” explained Nathan.
Skwisgaar meanwhile had planted himself and his sitar in the middle of the floor, where he was improvising an impromptu concert. Ganesh’s servants, who were definitely not Klokateers, showed no impatience with this and instead danced gracefully around him. Charles listened for a moment. He didn’t know much about sitar music, but Skwisgaar definitely sounded good.
“Well, as long as I’m back here,” said Charles. ”Have you any of that daal?” he asked a passing servant in overly polite Hindi.
“Of course, Sariel-ji!” smiled the servant.
“YOU CAN ORDER IN INDIAN NOW!” gushed Nathan as Skwisgaar played contentedly.
“I’ve picked up a little Hindi,” admitted Charles, who did not add (perhaps because he did not fully realize this fact) that most of his newfound vocabulary was in fact food-centered.
“Can you order us some PORK CHOPS?” asked Nathan.
“Well, I don’t think they have that here,” said Charles.
“Ams all you guys ins here today?” whined Toki, who had just passed through the double doors.
“We’re having lunch, just no pork chops, so DON’T ORDER PORK CHOPS!” Nathan ordered him.
“They might have chicken,” proposed Charles.
“Uh-huh! “Da tikka ‘sala Daddy!” piped up Elias, who knew what he liked. Charles quietly asked a servant about some chicken tikka masala as they passed.
“Dey has herringses?” asked Toki, who had just plopped down in a seat next to Nathan and took out what looked something like a photo album from the sturdy cloth bag he was carrying.
“Well, this is probably not the best place in the ‘Haus to order herring, Toki,” said Charles. “Why don’t I order us a variety of stuff? You might like paneer, and there’s these potatoes – aloo – stuffed with cheese….”
“Yeah, OK, that should be fine,” said Nathan dismissively, as he was now turning his attentions to Dethklok’s younger guitarist. “Toki, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.
“I ams crapsbooksing!” announced Toki, who had pulled out a pair of scissors and some bits of cardboard and gold piping.
“What the fuck is that?” asked Nathan.
“Yeah, and also some naan?” Charles was telling a servant. “Uh, Nathan, scrapbooking is creating a memory album consisting of favorite photos and other keepsakes.” He grabbed Toki’s scissors just before Elias could snatch them.
“Da scis, Daddy!” protested Elias, straining towards the glinting object.
“Uh, I think we’re steering clear of ‘scis’ ‘till we get a bit more hair on that head,” said Charles, putting a hand through Elias’s makeshift crew cut.
“I dunno this scrapbooking crap sounds kinda GAY and UNMETAL to me,” mused Nathan as a servant plonked a big basket of naan bread on the table.
“Doods! Where did everybuddy go?” wailed Pickles piteously from the doorway. “Hey, naan bred, dat’s cool,” he added, appearing to suddenly drop his discomfit.
“We got some garlic,” offered Charles, tearing off a piece of the potato-stuffed Amritsari naan for Elias to nom on, partly in order to distract the boy from sharp objects. Elias in turn tore off a smaller piece and dropped it underneath the chair. It did not reach the floor.
“Did yoo get dat t’ing wit’ da rice?” asked Pickles, who also slid up a chair just as a servant set down several metal tins full of delicious smelling food.
“Oh, yeah, can we get some biryani too?” Charles asked a servant. After a brief exchange, he asked Pickles, “Is it OK to get it with goat? They don’t have lamb.”
“Yeh, dat’s fine,” agreed the drummer, who had torn off some garlic biryani and was expertly using it to dig into the daal.
“How do you know how to eat INDIAN?” asked Nathan suspiciously.
“Dood, yoo don’t even know how t’ feed yerself no more?” laughed Pickles.
“Hims ams too attached to da physicals realms,” suggested Skwisgaar – who had not budged from the floor – over a particularly tricky run of what he hoped was mystical Eastern music.
“Yeah, and those models in your room last night, what fucking realm were they from?” asked Nathan.
“Why waschn’t I invited to the lunch meeting?” whined Murderface, who had just entered. “Isch it becausche I’m the fat one?”
“Dey ams plenties,” Toki told him. “But no herrings,” he added sadly. He began to apply glue to some gold leaf to and managed to get his hand stuck between two pages.
Charles was speaking with a servant. “Oh, yeah,” he laughed. “Definitely bring out some of that. Now, Nathan,” he said, turning to the lead singer. “Here’s what you do. Tear off some bread like this, and then pick up some food with it. It’s like chips and dip.”
“Like chips?” asked Nathan, who had donned his reading glasses. “OK, I guess I can do that. Are there any hamburgers in here somewhere?” he asked, scoping out a metal dish of paneer butter masala.
“Isch there anything dick schaped?” asked Murderface suspiciously.
“No to both questions,” said Charles, “but we might have something else you would like. “Kapura bakra masala,” he explained, waving a hand as a servant placed a large metal tin smack in the middle of the table.
“What the fuck is that?” asked Nathan, as Charles was already digging in.
“Goat testicles,” grinned Charles.
“NOOOOOOOO! Don’t eat that!” said Nathan.
“You gahta try it before yoo criticize,” said Pickles, who was also now spooning a generous portion of the dish onto his big metal plate
“YOU CAN’T EAT BALLS! MURDERFACE, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Asch long asch it’sch not dick-schaped,” reasoned the bassist.
“Wait,” said Nathan as the sitar music suddenly stopped. “Skwisgaar? I thought you were vegetarian and shit?”
The guitarist had abandoned his sitar and was hovering over the table, dipping a slab of bread into the rich, fragrant curry. “No, dis ams da goods stuff. Ganoshes ams explained it to me. You ams eats dis balls, and dey go insides, and dey grows in your balls!”
“WHAT?” said Nathan. “I thought that dude was a vegetarian and shit?”
“Yeah, makesch schensche,” smacked Murderface.
“I must takes da care wit’ my mans parts, as dere ams so many lovelies ladies waitsing for me,” explained Skwisgaar around a mouthful of goat nether parts.
“Balls grows your balls?” asked Nathan. “Well, I guess it’s not out of the question.”
“An’ Ganesh dood is a docter!” Pickles reminded Nathan.
“Eh. I’d like to see that guy’s medical license some time,” grumbled Nathan, spooning a dainty portion onto his plate, which he poked with a spoon.
“Nathan ams playings with his balls!” laughed Skwisgaar, which caused general merriment.
“Hey!” said Nathan.
“Oh, that reminds me, you any of you guys wanna come to the opening party for Ganesh’s perfume?” asked Charles, tearing off some more naan for Elias. “It’s at some guy, Khan Ali Khan’s house.”
“Dood! I wudn’ miss it,” said Pickles, licking off a bit of masala sauce that had fallen in a dreadlock. “Dere’s lotsa gud lookin’ chicks from dose movies.”
“I dunno,” said Nathan, who was offering a tiny bite of goat testicle to his owl, Ullu, who was still perched on his shoulder. The owl snapped it up and told him, “Kaun!” Nathan frowned at his plate. Seeming to make a decision, he popped an entire organ in his mouth and glugged it down whole with a great pull on his bottle of pale ale. He grunted. “Is Lady Raz gonna be there? Uh, wearing that sari?”
“I was just gonna call her about that,” said Charles, who was dabbing at Elias’ mouth with a napkin. “You had enough, Boon?”
“Uh-huh! Da full tummy!” said Elias, emphasizing this statement with a rather loud angel burp.
“Damn! Where does that come from?” asked Nathan. “Well, I'm definitely coming to the perfume shit.”
“And I ams comes too, wit' my seetar,” promised Skwisgaar.
“Come on,” said Charles, putting Elias on the ground and taking him by the hand. “We gotta get you washed up, Boon.”
“Da baf?” asked Elias dubiously as they exited the double doors from the lunchroom. He was now sufficiently old to view cleaning rituals with suspicion.
“Yeah, but you can play with your Facebones toy,” Charles told him as they made their way down the corridor.
“Oh, yeah, da Facebone!”
Charles had already hit the speed dial on his phone, silently gloating at his ninja-like parenting skills.
“SARIEL! Are you gonna be at Ganesh’s perfume launch? The Emperor of Bollywood is hosting, Khan Ali Khan!”
“So I take it you’re going, Raziel?” said Charles as he led Elias into the suite he shared with Ganesh.
“Hell yes! It’s not every day you get to party with Emperor Khan.”
“He doesn’t really refer to himself that way, I hope,” said Charles.
“These are movie people! Of course he refers to himself that way!” said Raziel. “And from what I've heard, you better kiss his Bolly-wood as well.”
“Remind me why I'm doing this again,” asked Charles as he turned on the bathtub tap. “You get your bath later!” he told Murgatroyd, who had his paws up on the edge of the tub, wagging his tail.
“What?” asked Raziel.
“Was talking to the dog. Raziel, why am I doing this?” asked Charles, pouring in the Facebones Happy Bathtime Brutal Bubblestuff to make a rich white bubbly (and metal) lather.
“Come on. It'll be fun! Akshay Kapoor will be there.”
“What?” said Charles, who choked a little at this news.
“Though I hear he'll be wearing a shirt. At least at first!” giggled Raziel.
“Why should.... Why should I even care about this,” asked Charles, helping Elias into the tub.
“Facebone! An' subberine!” ordered the child as soon as he was situated. Charles brought the squeaky Facebones and a rubber yellow submarine toy down from a shelf.
“Uh, maybe you should care because he's been your desktop background for the last month and a half?” came Raziel’s laughing voice.
Charles turned red while Elias splashed happily in the tub. “Can you get out the wings for Daddy?” he asked Elias as he took out a bottle of baby soap.
“Weens, Daddy!” sang Elias. Murgatroyd yipped and circled around as he was suddenly splashed with soapy water.
“Look, we gotta clean the wings now,” Charles told Raziel, cringing away from another soapy tsunami. “So I need to get off.”
“I wanna picture first!” said Raziel.
“OK, OK, said Charles. “Smile for Daddy!” he instructed Elias, who he could now barely see beneath a pile of bubbles. Charles had barely clicked before Elias had soaked him with another flurry of water.
Charles sunk down into the warm, soapy water, leaning his back against the bathtub’s smooth wall and watching Elias happily splash with his toys at the other end of the tub. He propped one foot up on the ceramic edge and wished for a cigarette. It was then that he heard Ganesh’s laughter from the doorway.
“Bath time for both of my dears,” laughed Ganesh, stopping to kiss Elias on the top of his stubbly head.
“The only way to get the wings clean. Unless we take him through the car wash again,” sighed Charles.
Ganesh smiled as he picked curiously through the pile of soaking wet clothes Charles had discarded on the drying rack. He picked up Charles’ Dethphone and looked at the home screen. “Oh, what a lovely image of soap bubbles.”
“Our child is in there somewhere,” said Charles.
“A perfect idea,” said Ganesh, picking up Elias and turning him around to sit on Charles’s lap. “Now smile you two!” he ordered, taking out his own phone.
“Ganesh, don’t do that,” pleaded Charles, who was too tired to protest very much.
“I need a new background image for my phone!” said Ganesh.
“OK, OK. But you send that to Raziel, and I will fucking kill you,” warned Charles.
“Come along, we need to get out of the bath now,” urged Ganesh, flourishing a big white towel.
“Noooooooo!” said Elias.
“First he doesn’t wanna get in, now he doesn’t wanna get out,” said Charles.
“Come on,” said Ganesh, picking up a mildly protesting Elias, who was still holding his Facebones and yellow submarine toys. “It is a lovely afternoon. We will get you out on the balcony to dry those wings in the sun.”
“Da balc!” said Elias, who suddenly broke for the door. Ganesh momentarily lost his grip on his slippery son who went tearing off butt naked, his little wolf yipping after him.
“But first we will put on our pajamas,” laughed Ganesh, breaking out an extra arm or two and catching the boy just as he reached the bathroom door.
“I need to learn how to do that arm trick,” sighed Charles, who had finally gotten up and started toweling himself off.
“It does have its uses,” said Ganesh, who was simultaneously vigorously rubbing Elias with the towel and tickling the boy’s stomach.
“He got as far as the kitchen last time. But they knew to sidetrack him with pie.”
“Our little escape artist,” said Ganesh indulgently. He helped Elias into his elephant pajamas, which had special wing holes, and then let the impatient boy loose.
Charles had wrapped himself in a fuzzy bathrobe, and sat on the edge of the bathtub, pulling out the stopper and watching it drain. “Down and down it goes,” he said.
“Shall I stir up a batch of drinks for us, jaanu?” asked Ganesh, who was still standing in the doorway. Charles shrugged. “Extra olives?” urged Ganesh.
“Yeah, that would be OK.”
“You seem particularly distracted today,” said Ganesh.
“Ganesh, I gotta lead a bunch of my friends and family into a deep dark pit – something my horrible Father built – where we’ll probably all end up dead. Or worse.”
“What is worse than dead?” inquired Ganesh.
“I dunno! Maybe we’ll all end up with mullet hairdos!” said Charles as Ganesh surrounded him with a number of arms.
“How about this?” asked Ganesh. “We shall set the boy down for his nap, and then we will have a nice long shower and groom your wings. You would like that, wouldn’t you?”
“How is washing my wings gonna solve anything!” said Charles, who for once did not seem to object (much) to the embrace.
“I am certain your feathers still bear the sticky fingerprints of many of my Auntie Lakshmi's manifestations,” said Ganesh, narrowing his eyes.
“Oh, now who’s jealous!”
“Slightly jealous,” smiled Ganesh. “Let me get those drinks started,” he added, giving Charles a little push. Charles settled himself into a lounge chair out on the deck, watching Elias and Murgatroyd playing their own unique version of fetch, which was sort of a combination of catch and keep away, involving a lot of screaming and barking. He thought about grabbing his laptop, but then convinced himself that the wireless network sucked out here.
Ganesh brought out cocktails, and the two adults sat in companionable silence for a while, until Elias seemed to quite abruptly run out of steam. Yawning, he pulled himself into Ganesh's lap and, wrapping his dark wings around himself as if he were some kind of oversize bat, fell almost instantly to sleep.
“Our weird kid,” sighed Charles, popping a gin-soaked olive into his mouth.
Ganesh smiled over Elias: he looked as if he would keep the boy there in his lap until the end of time. Charles knew he would.
“Out like a light,” Charles laughed as Elias started to snore in time with Murgatroyd, who was now curled up with his chin on Ganesh's leg.
“I was taught such a thing is the result of a clear conscience. Since my acquaintanceship with you, I would say it is more of an angel 'thing.'” said Ganesh. He rubbed the boy's short hair. “Would you still have affection for me if I cut off all my hair?” he mused.
“I'd like you with a mullet,” said Charles. “Or if you started wearing tacky clothes. Or gained 50 pounds.”
“No. Really?” asked Ganesh, who seemed honestly surprised.
“Have you ever been with a human, Ganesh? I mean for more than eight hours?”
“Well, possibly not,” admitted Ganesh.
“They're not like us. They're not eternal. They change,” said Charles. “But they're still themselves. It's difficult to explain.”
“You are thinking of someone in particular, if I am not mistaken,” said Ganesh, noticing Charles’ wistful expression.
“Yeah. I am thinking of someone in particular,” agreed Charles. “A human I knew. Once,” he added. “Maybe another time?”
“I could always inquire of Lady Raziel,” said Ganesh, studying Charles. “Perhaps I am speaking out of turn, but believe me when I say this: I am currently working on something that might prove … useful.”
“Useful how?” asked Charles, who suddenly found himself sitting forward.
“I can reveal no more at this time,” said Ganesh. “Simply … trust me,” he said, tracing along Elias' small ear with a finger.
“Mysterious bastard,” grumbled Charles, sitting back. Ganesh smiled and removed something from his jacket pocket. He tossed it over to Charles.
Charles broke the root in half and, smiling, took a good whiff.
“Do you guys got any BALLS?” inquired Nathan Explosion to the rather befuddled group of servants who swarmed the heaped banquet table in the center of the utterly packed grand ballroom in the residence of Khan Ali Khan, Emperor of Bollywood. Charles and Ganesh stood nearby, as did Skwisgaar, who was carrying his now ever present sitar.
Charles had been taken aback, first off because, although the house was as crowded with party-goers as a bustling Indian metropolis, they were not in Bombay or Delhi, as he had expected, but rather in Dubai. The home – if you could call it that – actually looked less like the residence of an Indian movie star than a Seventeenth Century European palace, complete with surrounding topiary-studded gardens. Despite the fact that the house was situated right on a lovely, white sandy beach they were surrounded by a number of swimming pools (Charles could count at least three from where he stood) which were of more modern design.
Charles had gleaned that the island was man-made. They had reached it after driving through a rather long undersea tunnel. He found himself actually somewhat impressed at the whole deal, although he was careful not to share his thoughts with Skwisgaar and especially Nathan, who would have immediately wondered why they were being gypped by not having their own Dethklok island. Charles was instead currently gazing at the back wall, trying not to be too obvious about determining whether the intricate design in fact used real gold leaf as well as inlaid jewelry.
Ganesh whispered to one of the servants, who nodded and soon returned with a platter.
“Wait. Isn't that just lamb meatballs?” Charles whispered to Ganesh as the latter hustled him away from the banquet table.
“Will Nathan know the difference?” replied Ganesh.
“This is your fault, you know,” said Charles, who looked back regretfully at the table. He hadn't finished scanning the contents for pie and pie-like items. “Uh, I dunno about leaving my band alone like this....”
“Never mind. We shall get you some canapes later, dear.”
“The rocket ship is nice!” said Charles, regarding the altered henna tattoo that now adorned Nathan Explosion’s cheek.
“Did you like that? Yes, we have told him if anyone asks that his facial decoration is in honor of India’s space program!”
“India’s what?” asked Charles.
“Pork Chop played an astronaut in a recent film, so that will work out well. Meantime, there is someone I would like you to meet. Oh, there we are,” said Ganesh, hustling Charles towards a corner far away from the tasty treats. They approached a slim man standing just outside on one of the patios overlooking the sea. He seemed to be brooding out over the ocean waves.
“Poojums!” hailed Ganesh.
Charles smiled thinly. It hadn't taken him long to realize that all of Ganesh's Bollywood buddies had ridiculous, nonsensical nicknames. He was taken aback though as the party guest turned and exclaimed, “Haathi!” which was evidently Ganesh's stupid nickname. Even though the insanely handsome party in question was currently wearing a shirt, Charles almost immediately recognized him as the actor, Akshay Kapoor.
“This is Charles,” said Ganesh, indicating his gibbering husband once the two had broken their warm embrace.
“Charles-ji!” exclaimed Kapoor sincerely. Charles held out a shaking hand, which Kapoor ignored, instead wrapping the stunned angel in an enthusiastic, if still brooding hug. “How nice to meet you! Haathi is a great friend!”
“Uh,” said Charles, who seemed to have lost control of his vocal chords.
“Charles is a fan of yours,” confided Ganesh, which just caused Charles' blush to spread from his cheeks all the way down his neck.
“Oh! Would you like a photograph, Charles-ji?” inquired Kapoor, who was brooding politely.
“Uh,” agreed Charles. Kapoor draped a friendly arm around Charles’ trembling shoulders, and Ganesh clicked his cell phone.
“Oh, that is lovely,” said Ganesh. “Don’t you think so?” he asked Charles.
“Uh,” opined Charles.
“Terrific talking with you two,” said Kapoor. “I like chatting with real people. Those in the industry get…. You know….”
“Oh, I know full well!” agreed Ganesh, as Charles mutely wondered what could make a love god and a Fallen angel seem like the “real people” in the room. “Well, we need to get back inside with the rest, to await our host!”
“See you, Haathi!”
“Yes, Poojums!” said Ganesh distractedly as he once again grabbed Charles and started dragging him away. “So,” he inquired, “do you like your picture.”
“Uh,” said Charles. “Uh. You don’t think, as the night gets later…?”
“Yeeees?”
“He might lose the shirt?”
Ganesh roared with laughter. “We’ll try again after Poojums has a few gin and tonics in him,” he promised.
“Where did those guys wander off to?” mumbled Nathan. Hearing nothing, he repeated, “Hey, did you see where Charles and Ganesh- Oh, fuck, Skwisgaar!” But as Nathan realized as he scanned the crowd, he was too late as the crafty guitarist, sensing MILF, had already slipped away towards the opposite side of the grand ballroom. Nathan looked at the knot of women the Swede was obviously heading for. They were babes, that was sure. They weren't young chicks, but Nathan even would have nailed them. Well, except for-
“Hey, Nathan!”
“Oh, uh, hi Lady Raz!” said Nathan as he spotted the little angel emerging from the crowd to stand alongside him. “Hey, nice sari.”
“You should see it when it gets wet,” she winked.
“Uhhhhhh,” said Nathan, whose synapses had momentarily gone offline. “Would you like some BALLS?” he asked, indicating his little red plastic bowl.
“What, the lamb meatballs?” she asked. “Maybe later.”
“Where’s King Wotan dude?”
“He’ll be here in a bit. Have you seen Khan Ali Khan, the Emperor of Bollywood yet?”
“Uh, no,” said Nathan, thoughtfully chewing on a meatball. “Dude doesn't really want you to call him that, does he? I mean, it seems sort of douche-y.”
“Yeah, but he's the Emperor of Bollywood. He gets to be a douche. That's why it's good being emperor!”
“Huh, I hadn't thought of that. Hey, Lady Raz, you know anything about those chicks?”
“Which chicks?” asked Raziel, raising her sunglasses to the top of her head.
“THOSE CHICKS,” pointing to the group of what looked for all the world like aging supermodels that Skwisgaar was rapidly approaching. Nathan wasn’t exactly sure how he had gotten this impression, but they had this look like women you wouldn’t wanna mess with. Their expressions were ones he remembered all too well from Rebecca: the frowns of disdain literally looked painted on.
“Oh, yeah, those are the wives,” supplied Raziel.
“Whose wives?” chuckled Nathan, wondering just how dead Skwisgaar was going to be.
“The Bolly-wives. And, just between you and me? I don’t think Skwisgaar’s gonna have very much luck this time.”
“What, you’re kidding!” said Nathan, who thought that this evening might indeed turn into fun despite the dreadful lack of strippers.
“Raziel,” said Charles, who had just walked up with Ganesh. “Where’s Wotan?”
“He’ll be here in A BIT, Charles don't be IMPATIENT!” Nathan told them.
“And … who are those women?” Charles asked, indicating the knot of surly if well-dressed women.
“They’re the BOLLY-WIVES. Where have you been all evening?” sighed Nathan.
“Having a scintillating conversation with Akshay Kapoor,” laughed Ganesh.
“And why are those women all glaring down at us?” asked Charles.
“Maybe they want some BALLS!” suggested Nathan.
“They’re glaring at me! The Indian press has been reporting that Khan Ali Khan and I have been spotted canoodling!” announced Raziel.
“Uh, what the fuck is canoodling, and why would you do it with that guy?” asked Nathan.
“Where did the Indian press get the idea that you’re canoodling with Khan Ali Khan?” Charles asked Raziel.
“I had my publicist plant the story,” said Raziel.
“WHAT!” said Charles.
“Oh, everybody does it,” she told him.
“Who’s everybody?” asked Charles. “Are these the same everybodies who have a perfume line?”
“Oh, wait, there he is!” said Raziel, pointing up the grand staircase.
“Porkchops is here!” agreed Ganesh.
“Wait, we get pork chops now?” asked Nathan.
The room quieted as a man had just stepped out on top of the stairs.
“That's the dude who's been in college the last 20 years?” asked Nathan, referring to Khan’s many charming musicals set on university campuses.
“That's the one!” said Raziel.
“Huh. He looks shorter in person,” said Nathan.
But the background music had begun to swell, and suddenly, Khan Ali Khan was dancing down the stair, and lip-synching to a cleverly concealed playback singer, and clearly singing to none other than Raziel, as she was now somehow picked out by a spotlight.
Antediluvian woman, stay away from Ali
Antediluvian woman, just let me be
Don’t elbow into my famous dance
You sure not the Queen of France
I got more important things to do
Than teach my chorography to you
Now woman, go away
Antediluvian woman, listen don’t upstage
“Raziel,” said Charles, poking her in the ribs with his elbow.
“What?”
“Who’s that group of women over there?” he said, pointing out a tight group of expensively-dressed, scowling ladies in one corner. “The Bolly-wives? Are they models or something?”
“Oh, that’s Khan’s wife and her best friends!” said Raziel. “I mean, best friends as of this week. She recently dumped Akshay Kapoor’s wife for Rishi Rakesh’s wife as her second best friend. It was all over the papers!”
“A, they just brushed off Skwisgaar. Skwisgaar! And B, they look like they wanna kill us, and specifically you,” said Charles.
“Yeah, they do!”
Meanwhile, Khan Ali Khan, continued with his number, lip-synching his heart out.
Antediluvian woman, just hasten hence
Antediluvian woman, do we need a fence?
Don’t try to match my famous moves
You’ll just miss my funky groove
Colored lights bring sparkle to my smile
My dimples can beat you by a mile.
Now woman….
A room full of party guests was now dancing and clapping along to Khan’s marvelous song. “I obviously need an answer song!” said Raziel. “Did Skwisgaar bring anything cooler than that freaking sitar.”
The erstwhile guitarist, who had just returned to the group, befuddled expression on his face, grunted something that may have been a no.
“Aw, c’mon Skwis!” urged Nathan, putting down his balls. “We could do better than this! I caught a look at that playback singer, and he’s FREAKING OLD.”
Raziel had meanwhile whipped out her purse, somehow extracting an electric guitar. She tossed it to Skwisgaar. He struck up a chord, which echoed around the room. Which was weird, because it wasn’t even plugged in. But quite suddenly, in the quickest setup in metal history, Skwisgaar was grinding out a familiar riff.
Raziel, who was now outside next to a pool, began to dance, mouthing to her own playback singer.
Well, you don’t know how I can move
Why don’t you watch me go a little while
On a magic Desi groove?
Well, you don’t know what you can see
What don’t you watch what my sari does now
Under a convenient deluge?
Open your eyes now
Look outside now
Let the water wash away
As if on cue, because it was, Ganesh waved an arm, and suddenly Raziel was standing under a rainstorm.
“You guys rehearsed this?” Charles asked him.
“Well, we may have, a little. Keep things fresh,” admitted Ganesh.
“But why?” asked Charles.
“You will see,” smiled Ganesh.
Raziel continued to sing and dance in the now sopping wet sari.
Last night I held Aladdin’s lamp
While I was rehearsing this day
But before I got the moves all right
Well someone tried to take the lamp away
I tossed them down a well
No one fucks with Raziel
Well, you don’t know how I can fight
Why don’t you watch me go a little while
On a magical production flight
Well, you don’t know but you can see
What don’t you watch as I take on
Those ladies eyeing me
Open your eyes now
Look inside now
I’m here to take you away!
To Charles’s surprise (and the apparent disapproval of the Bollywood Wives), Khan Ali Khan had run down the stairs and began to dance outside alongside Raziel, who had taken out a rather large sword.
Charles found his eyes suddenly drawn over to where the wives were clustered. They now stood in a circle, and each projected a beam of light into the center. It was like three spotlights, only for some unearthly reason, the three beams of light collided and merged to form a glowing shape that looked almost human.
The music changed again.
Got my saber sharpened
Head out on the main street
Lookin’ for a sword fight
With whoever crosses me
…sang Raziel.
Yeah darlin’
Gonna slice some dudes up
Take the world like you’re playin’ Left for Dead
Try firing your guns if you want to
We’ll slice them to shreds
…sang Khan.
And then they both joined in for the chorus.
Like an Seraph full of dread
I was born
Born to behead!
I come from the sky
And I’m never gonna diiiiiie
Born to beheeeeeaaaad!
A weird, eerie light suddenly flooded the room. The beams of illumination from the Bolly-wives had coalesced. The three women collapsed to the floor, fainting dead away, as the light seemed to grow inward, and then exploded outward. And out of the light sprang a glorious warrior goddess. She was dressed in finery, and carried jeweled sabers in each of her four arms.
She screeched, an unearthly sound, and leapt across the room, headed straight for where Raziel was dancing with Khan outside. The angry goddess swung wildly, several sabers flashing at once. Raziel, despite having only one saber herself, easily parried the furious blows, earning the ooh’s and aah’s of the impressed party guests. Charles lost sight of the fight as the crowd massed towards them.
“Come along,” Ganesh urged him, pulling Charles along as he threaded between the fascinated Indian glitterati. They emerged an excruciatingly long time later, Charles noting that Raziel was still dueling the multi-armed goddess alongside one of the pools.
“Can you do something?” he asked Ganesh, but when he turned, Ganesh was gone.
Raziel suddenly stopped, holding her saber in front of her, bowing slightly.
“Raziel! What the fuck are you doing?” yelled Charles.
The goddess drew back as if to strike the killing blow, but suddenly twirled around in a blind fury, as all four or her sword arms had been caught by the wrist. “What is this insolence!” she spat, whirling around.
“Hello there, Auntie Durga,” said Ganesh pleasantly.
“Ganesha?” sputtered the goddess, writhing out of Ganesh’s grip. “What in Rab’s immortal fury are you doing here? I am right in the middle of my vengeance.”
“Yes, we needed to chat,” said Ganesh.
“This is a bloody inconvenient time to do it! That angel whore has been canoodling with Khan Ali Khan!”
“Oh, we haven’t been canoodling,” said Raziel. “I’m happily married.”
“Ganesh! Raziel! What the hell is going on?” asked Charles, who had just run over.
“I am terribly sorry for the misunderstanding,” said Ganesh, “but you had been asleep for so long, we had no idea how else to wake you.”
“I’m bloody awake now! What is the meaning of this? Why are there angels here?” demanded Durga.
“This is my friend, the Lady Raziel, and here is my dear husband, Sariel,” Ganesh told her, smiling his most charming smile.
“You married an angel? Are you mad?” asked Durga.
“We are sorry, but we didn’t know quite where to send the invitation,” said Ganesh.
“Is that why you woke me? You want your Rab-damned blender or toaster oven?”
“No actually,” said Ganesh.
“We wanna talk to you about the Abyss,” said Raziel.
“The Abyss?” asked Durga.
“Yeah,” said Raziel.
“Why the hell are you asking her about that?” asked Charles.
“Because, once, long ago,” said the goddess, putting away her blades, “I ventured there.”
“Doods! Did we miss anythin’?” asked Pickles as he suddenly appeared, alongside Murderface,at the edge of one of Khan Ali Khan’s large swimming pools. Nathan and Skwisgaar were lolling there, alongside some spectacularly beautiful women.
“Hey, Pickles. This is Miss Universe 2006, Miss Universe 2007, Miss Universe 2009 and Miss Universe 2011,” said Nathan. “And that over there is Miss Universe 2012,” he said, pointing to the girl waving from the diving board.
“Wait, have dey even had dat contest yet?” asked Pickles.
“I ams not t’inks so, but I t’inks she ams da winners for sures,” Skwisgaar assured them.
“So wut wuz da party like, doods?” inquired Pickles.
“The housche is schtill schtanding,” observed Murderface, not bothering to mention that this raised heavy suspicions of an unsuccessful event.
“It was pretty cool. There was some cool music, and some kinda gay dancing, but then there was a badass sword fight, and Lady Raz wore a sari that got all wet,” he whispered, looking around to see if Wotan was within hearing distance.
“Well, shit, doods, I knew we shoulda got here sooner,” sighed Pickles, sitting down in a lounge chair and helping himself to a cocktail offered by one of the many hovering servants.
“Oh, you have finally made it!” said Ganesh, as he walked up along with Charles, Raziel and Wotan.
“Dood, we were too late fer da fun,” sighed Pickles.
“Oh, that’s fine, I missed the damned sword fight myself,” said Wotan.
“I believe Porkchops’ home security system captured most of it on high definition video,” Ganesh offered.
“Splendid! Well, maybe we’ll go watch that with your friend!”
“How are those lady dudes?” asked Nathan. “You know, the ones with the weird light?”
“Pffft,” said Skwisgaar, who was still rather upset at the dis.
“The will be fine,” said Ganesh, wrapping his stethoscope around his neck. “As a result of the enchantment, they will sleep for 30 days and 30 nights, and then wake up completely normal.”
“So, uh, we’re never invited back?” asked Nathan.
“On the contrary. Porkchops was just thanking me for the splendid party. He wished me to convey this to you, as he has already departed for Singapore,” smiled Ganesh.
“Oh, uh, sleepy wife. Yeah, like girlfriend in a coma,” mused Nathan.
“At any rate, he has kindly offered us the run of his mansion during his absence,” concluded Ganesh.
“Hey, Porkchops is a cool dude,” said Nathan.
All turned to a sudden unearthly cry. “Ams dat Gurga agains?” asked Skwisgaar.
“No, it is not Durga, it is just Poojums, post gin and tonics,” laughed Ganesh, as Akshay Kapoor (the source of the howling) had mounted the diving board at a nearby pool and, prior to jumping, had begun to rip his own shirt off.
“GANESH!” shouted Charles as the now half-naked quite probably drunken Kapoor dove into the pool. “The waterproof camera!” Ganesh laughingly tossed his phone to Charles, who had already broken into a run.
“That guy is nuts,” said Nathan approvingly.
“Wanna see my sword fight on closed circuit?” asked Raziel.
“Lead the way,” laughed Wotan, as they, along with Dethklok and the beauty queens, slowly made their way inside.
“So, uh, Ganesh dude,” said Nathan, as he and the god lingered after the others.
“Yes, Nathan?” asked Ganesh, who was smilingly watching Charles photograph a now dripping wet Kapoor.
“Uh, you don’t mind Charles taking freaky pictures of that Poojam guy?”
“Sariel has been in a low mood recently, so it warms my heart to see him enjoying himself,” said Ganesh. They both cringed as Kapoor, with a great splash, pulled Charles too into the pool. “But what did you really want to ask me, Nathan?”
“Your aunt, uh, Durga? She’s been to the Abyss?”
“It was a very long time ago. But, yes.”
“So, we’re going?”
“I believe that is inevitable.”
“I’m not scared of that shit, you know. Even if I’m human.”
“Perhaps you should be,” mused Ganesh.
Nathan frowned, but Charles just at that moment padded up, dripping wet but grinning. “I promised to get Poojums a Facebones bath toy! He loves Facebones!”
“Well isn’t that nice,” said Ganesh. “Perhaps we will invite him over for a nice bubble bath some time,” he told Charles, draping an arm over his shoulders and leading him inside.
“He’s a really nice guy!” enthused Charles. “He loves Facebones.”
Nathan stood a while, alone, watching the couple retreat inside. “I like Facebones,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. And then he followed them inside.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Balls and body art
Warnings: More Bollywood in-jokes no one will get
Notes: After jump
Last time: we bought a sitar and stood in line at the DMV. Mythklok, it just keeps getting better and better!
Information that is important to have: in one myth about Ganesha’s origins he was literally formed out of turmeric powder that Parvati had spread on her body to use as a kind of soap. In this version of the tale Parvati was annoyed that people kept interrupting her bath, so she created Ganesha as a sort of royal bouncer.
Oh, and it might also interest you to know that my husband just downloaded Steppenwolf's Greatest Hits so that's what I've been listening to over and over and over in the car this week.
“Id da daddoo, Daddy!”
“Yes, isn’t that nice?”
“Look Daddy loooooook!” insisted Elias, who despite having spent a scant three years in the physical realm, was no fool.
As now Murgatroyd, Elias’ wolf pup, was yipping as well for attention, Charles, surrendering to the inevitable, lowered the screen on his laptop and peered over his desk to where his child was dramatically huffing and puffing with the tremendous effort entailed at pulling his “Dick Knubbler presents Planet Piss Live and In Concert” T shirt up to display his newly decorated belly.
“Yes, that’s a very nice tattoo, Boon. Is that Facebones?” said Charles, a small smile barely edging up one side of his mouth.
“Uh-huh! Dat Facebone, and Wunky Nate-Nate drawed, and da daddoo!”
“Do you like Facebones?”
“Uh-huh!”
Charles was now openly grinning, as well as making a mental note to double the order for the Facebones bathtub squeaky toys. “That was very nice of your Uncle Nathan to do that. Did you say thank you?”
“Uh-huh! Said tankoo Wunky Nate!”
“We have MATCHING TATTOOS now!” announced Nathan from the doorway. He stomped in, Murderface at his heels, and displayed the unmistakeable visage of Facebones on his bulging bicep.
“Kaun,” commented Ullu, the little owl perched on Nathan’s shoulder.
“Well, isn’t that nice,” said Charles, who was peeking at his laptop to see about that Facebones squeaky toy order.
“Charles, you didn’t LOOOOOK!” thundered Nathan.
“Oh, uh, sorry. Yes, that’s … very nice Nathan,” said Charles, who whistled low as he looked up. Unlike his son, Nathan’s new body decoration was not limited to one area of his person. On the contrary, the lead singer now very much resembled that fabled character or song, Lydia the Tattooed Lady.
“It’sch not a real tatt,” sniffed Murderface, who seemed to be relatively free of new markings.
“Yeah, so?” asked Nathan.
“Mehndi is a traditional body art among my people,” said Ganesh, who had just appeared, sitting in a chair in Charles’ office. No one paid much notice to the sudden appearance, as such things seemed to happen these days at Mordhaus.
“Yeah, see, it’s all traditional and shit!” said Nathan. “And beside, you can WASH IT OFF when you get sick of it.”
“Er, that appears to be a matter of some misunderstanding, Nathan,” said Ganesh, who was eyeing the lead singer. Nathan was barely visible beneath much red-tinted cartooning that now marked his skin.
“Whaddya mean?” grunted Nathan. “How long is this stuff gonna last?” he asked, rubbing a cheek.
“Well, as you know,” said Charles, “I can’t get a tattoo of any kind, because I just True Form and it goes away.”
“Too Foam,” repeated Elias, who wonderingly sprouted his little wings: black feathered with silvery tips. Ganesh grinned and pulled up Elias’ shirt, and Elias gasped at his now bare belly.
“Where da Facebone?” he giggled.
“Oh, cool, your kid is like an Etch-A-Sketch!” said Nathan, who seized Elias and, to the boy’s utter delight, shook him over his head.
“But, er, the application of henna, for a human, like you, Nathan…” continued Ganesh.
“Yeah, so I’m human,” grumbled Nathan, plonking down Elias. “So how long? A day?”
“Er, well, for example, that lovely depiction of a male cock and balls which you have applied to your right cheek?” said Ganesh. Nathan unconsciously rubbed his new cheek-cock.
“A month,” said Charles, valiantly trying to hide his grin.
“Well, could be,” agreed Ganesh.
“I got a dick on my face for a fucking MONTH?” asked Nathan.
“You’re alwaysch a dick fasche to usch,” hooted Murderface.
“Shit! Can I get it off some other way?” proposed Nathan.
“Leechesch might do the trick,” wondered Murderface, who was an expert regarding ancient medical lore.
“Er,” said Ganesh, who actually had medical training.
“WAIT!” said Nathan. He leaned over to Ganesh and asked, “Does Skwisgaar know this?”
Ganesh looked over to Charles, who shrugged. “Er, I do not think so….”
“MURDERFACE!” said Nathan. The bassist flashed an evil grin, and, taking a moment to grab Elias once again, the two rushed from the office, Murgatroyd pattering after them.
“Shall we stop them?” asked Ganesh, who regardless did not move from the chair. “They appear to be a bit of a menace with a henna jar.”
“Not on your life,” said Charles, who was furiously clicking on his laptop. “Compared to what else those boys might get up to? Let them paint each other with dicks. So, anyway. You back from your perfume … thing?”
“Yes, my new eau de toilet is soon to be launched!” said Ganesh proudly.
“And why again are you doing this?” asked Charles, despite his mind being distracted by the logistics of transporting squeaky toys from Manchuria.
“Everyone who’s anyone has a perfume line nowadays,” said Ganesh. “And all proceeds to charity.”
“Yeah. Fuck charity.”
Ganesh grinned. “You appear mildly uninterested?”
“I dunno. If it actually smelled like you instead of a bunch of flowers and shit I’d be interested,” said Charles distractedly.
“Oh? And pray what do I smell like?” teased Ganesh.
“What?” said Charles, peeking up over the laptop and blushing slightly. “Uh. You know.”
“No, I do not know.”
Charles sighed and closed his laptop again. “Those cigarettes you sneak.” Ganesh chuckled. “And, there’s something else, like a spice?”
Ganesh smiled broadly, showing rows of perfect white teeth. “Come along,” he said, leaping up and grabbing Charles by the arm.
“Wait. I got stuff to do. Where are we going?” asked Charles, reaching back ineffectively for his precious laptop.
“You’ll see,” said Ganesh, pulling Charles along the corridor on a familiar route to the kitchen areas. Ganesh led him into the kitchen, past a clatter of activity – shouting and open flames and dropped plates and general chaos – as Chefateers prepared lunch, and through a swinging double doors back into the much more serene area Ganesh had set aside for preparing his own vegetarian-oriented meals. He called in Hindi to one of his own servants, who was up on a step ladder, rummaging through a bin. The servant grabbed something and tossed it to Ganesh. It looked like a root of some kind.
Ganesh snapped the root in two and held a piece under Charles’ nose.
“Yes! That’s it!” said Charles grabbing the orange-ish root and taking a big whiff. It looked something like a ginger root. Charles was pretty sure he had seen a ginger root somewhere. Whatever it was, it was slightly intoxicating.
“Turmeric,” smiled Ganesh.
Charles, looking a bit light-headed, pulled out a chair at a small kitchen table and sat down.
“So, you are coming to the opening party for my line of custom scents of course?” asked Ganesh.
“Oh, uh, I dunno,” said Charles.
“It will be held at the house of Khan Ali Khan, the biggest star in the Bollywood firmament! We could bring the boys. I am certain they will enjoy it: there will be multitudes of attractive women.”
“Ganesh, my lead singer has a dick painted on his face.”
“Yes,” laughed Ganesh. “I know an airbrush artist who I think could aid us in that matter. So, you will come?”
“Ganesh, I dunno,” said Charles, turning the Turmeric root over and over in his hands. “You know I’ll go with you to your family stuff. But we don’t usually do the human realm stuff together….”
“So if you are not worried about Dethklok’s behavior, what is the issue?” asked Ganesh, sitting down at the table next to Charles.
“Come on, Ganesh! Khan and all of them! They look like freaking supermodels.”
“This troubles you?”
“Aren’t these the guys you used to date?” asked Charles, suspicion edging into his voice.
“Ah! Well, I usually limited my dalliances to those who chose modeling as a career path, although I shall admit the lines have become more blurred in recent times,” said Ganesh, sitting back, a wide smile on his face.
“The guys. You used. To date!” said Charles, although it was more a grumble than a statement.
“Beauty should be appreciated! Especially beauty of the human ilk. For it is not fated to last,” lectured Ganesh. Charles emitted a sound that sounded awfully like a low growl. Ganesh leaned over, grinning like a cat.
“You like this, don’t you, Ganesh? You like me jealous?” asked Charles.
“Slightly jealous. Yes, it rather suits you. Now, were I to learn of the bodies of the most beloved filmi stars piling up in the back yard…” said Ganesh, waving a hand.
Charles scowled.
“Those persons mean nothing to me at present,” soothed Ganesh. “However, if you are concerned as to the propriety of my behavior, wouldn’t it then behoove you to attend, to keep me on the straight and narrow?” he purred, arching an eyebrow.
Charles glowered. “All right. I’ll go to your perfume thing.”
“Splendid,” said Ganesh, gracefully leaping up. “I shall text Porkchops immediately.”
“Porkchops?”
“An affectionate nickname for Khan,” said Ganesh, who was already on his way out.
“Affectionate?” Charles asked his new friend, the turmeric root.
“PORK CHOPS?” asked Nathan Explosion who had nearly collided with Ganesh on his way into the kitchen. “That sounds AWESOME.” He came in leading Elias by the hand.
“You ams not getsing dat junks back here!” scolded Skwisgaar, who came in dragging a sitar instead of his characteristic Gibson. The guitarist, Charles noted, remained free of henna body art. He supposed Nathan had been distracted from the prank by mention of food.
“Is that all you’re getting for lunch, Charles?” asked Nathan, thumping down at the table next to the manager.
“Huh? No,” said Charles, distractedly putting the turmeric root in his jacket pocket as Elias wriggled into his lap and Murgatroyd pattered over to curl up underneath. “What are you guys doing back here, anyway?”
“Eh, Skwisgaar is on some kinda HEALTH KICK, so he’s gonna eat stuff that’s all good for you and that kinda crap,” explained Nathan.
Skwisgaar meanwhile had planted himself and his sitar in the middle of the floor, where he was improvising an impromptu concert. Ganesh’s servants, who were definitely not Klokateers, showed no impatience with this and instead danced gracefully around him. Charles listened for a moment. He didn’t know much about sitar music, but Skwisgaar definitely sounded good.
“Well, as long as I’m back here,” said Charles. ”Have you any of that daal?” he asked a passing servant in overly polite Hindi.
“Of course, Sariel-ji!” smiled the servant.
“YOU CAN ORDER IN INDIAN NOW!” gushed Nathan as Skwisgaar played contentedly.
“I’ve picked up a little Hindi,” admitted Charles, who did not add (perhaps because he did not fully realize this fact) that most of his newfound vocabulary was in fact food-centered.
“Can you order us some PORK CHOPS?” asked Nathan.
“Well, I don’t think they have that here,” said Charles.
“Ams all you guys ins here today?” whined Toki, who had just passed through the double doors.
“We’re having lunch, just no pork chops, so DON’T ORDER PORK CHOPS!” Nathan ordered him.
“They might have chicken,” proposed Charles.
“Uh-huh! “Da tikka ‘sala Daddy!” piped up Elias, who knew what he liked. Charles quietly asked a servant about some chicken tikka masala as they passed.
“Dey has herringses?” asked Toki, who had just plopped down in a seat next to Nathan and took out what looked something like a photo album from the sturdy cloth bag he was carrying.
“Well, this is probably not the best place in the ‘Haus to order herring, Toki,” said Charles. “Why don’t I order us a variety of stuff? You might like paneer, and there’s these potatoes – aloo – stuffed with cheese….”
“Yeah, OK, that should be fine,” said Nathan dismissively, as he was now turning his attentions to Dethklok’s younger guitarist. “Toki, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.
“I ams crapsbooksing!” announced Toki, who had pulled out a pair of scissors and some bits of cardboard and gold piping.
“What the fuck is that?” asked Nathan.
“Yeah, and also some naan?” Charles was telling a servant. “Uh, Nathan, scrapbooking is creating a memory album consisting of favorite photos and other keepsakes.” He grabbed Toki’s scissors just before Elias could snatch them.
“Da scis, Daddy!” protested Elias, straining towards the glinting object.
“Uh, I think we’re steering clear of ‘scis’ ‘till we get a bit more hair on that head,” said Charles, putting a hand through Elias’s makeshift crew cut.
“I dunno this scrapbooking crap sounds kinda GAY and UNMETAL to me,” mused Nathan as a servant plonked a big basket of naan bread on the table.
“Doods! Where did everybuddy go?” wailed Pickles piteously from the doorway. “Hey, naan bred, dat’s cool,” he added, appearing to suddenly drop his discomfit.
“We got some garlic,” offered Charles, tearing off a piece of the potato-stuffed Amritsari naan for Elias to nom on, partly in order to distract the boy from sharp objects. Elias in turn tore off a smaller piece and dropped it underneath the chair. It did not reach the floor.
“Did yoo get dat t’ing wit’ da rice?” asked Pickles, who also slid up a chair just as a servant set down several metal tins full of delicious smelling food.
“Oh, yeah, can we get some biryani too?” Charles asked a servant. After a brief exchange, he asked Pickles, “Is it OK to get it with goat? They don’t have lamb.”
“Yeh, dat’s fine,” agreed the drummer, who had torn off some garlic biryani and was expertly using it to dig into the daal.
“How do you know how to eat INDIAN?” asked Nathan suspiciously.
“Dood, yoo don’t even know how t’ feed yerself no more?” laughed Pickles.
“Hims ams too attached to da physicals realms,” suggested Skwisgaar – who had not budged from the floor – over a particularly tricky run of what he hoped was mystical Eastern music.
“Yeah, and those models in your room last night, what fucking realm were they from?” asked Nathan.
“Why waschn’t I invited to the lunch meeting?” whined Murderface, who had just entered. “Isch it becausche I’m the fat one?”
“Dey ams plenties,” Toki told him. “But no herrings,” he added sadly. He began to apply glue to some gold leaf to and managed to get his hand stuck between two pages.
Charles was speaking with a servant. “Oh, yeah,” he laughed. “Definitely bring out some of that. Now, Nathan,” he said, turning to the lead singer. “Here’s what you do. Tear off some bread like this, and then pick up some food with it. It’s like chips and dip.”
“Like chips?” asked Nathan, who had donned his reading glasses. “OK, I guess I can do that. Are there any hamburgers in here somewhere?” he asked, scoping out a metal dish of paneer butter masala.
“Isch there anything dick schaped?” asked Murderface suspiciously.
“No to both questions,” said Charles, “but we might have something else you would like. “Kapura bakra masala,” he explained, waving a hand as a servant placed a large metal tin smack in the middle of the table.
“What the fuck is that?” asked Nathan, as Charles was already digging in.
“Goat testicles,” grinned Charles.
“NOOOOOOOO! Don’t eat that!” said Nathan.
“You gahta try it before yoo criticize,” said Pickles, who was also now spooning a generous portion of the dish onto his big metal plate
“YOU CAN’T EAT BALLS! MURDERFACE, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Asch long asch it’sch not dick-schaped,” reasoned the bassist.
“Wait,” said Nathan as the sitar music suddenly stopped. “Skwisgaar? I thought you were vegetarian and shit?”
The guitarist had abandoned his sitar and was hovering over the table, dipping a slab of bread into the rich, fragrant curry. “No, dis ams da goods stuff. Ganoshes ams explained it to me. You ams eats dis balls, and dey go insides, and dey grows in your balls!”
“WHAT?” said Nathan. “I thought that dude was a vegetarian and shit?”
“Yeah, makesch schensche,” smacked Murderface.
“I must takes da care wit’ my mans parts, as dere ams so many lovelies ladies waitsing for me,” explained Skwisgaar around a mouthful of goat nether parts.
“Balls grows your balls?” asked Nathan. “Well, I guess it’s not out of the question.”
“An’ Ganesh dood is a docter!” Pickles reminded Nathan.
“Eh. I’d like to see that guy’s medical license some time,” grumbled Nathan, spooning a dainty portion onto his plate, which he poked with a spoon.
“Nathan ams playings with his balls!” laughed Skwisgaar, which caused general merriment.
“Hey!” said Nathan.
“Oh, that reminds me, you any of you guys wanna come to the opening party for Ganesh’s perfume?” asked Charles, tearing off some more naan for Elias. “It’s at some guy, Khan Ali Khan’s house.”
“Dood! I wudn’ miss it,” said Pickles, licking off a bit of masala sauce that had fallen in a dreadlock. “Dere’s lotsa gud lookin’ chicks from dose movies.”
“I dunno,” said Nathan, who was offering a tiny bite of goat testicle to his owl, Ullu, who was still perched on his shoulder. The owl snapped it up and told him, “Kaun!” Nathan frowned at his plate. Seeming to make a decision, he popped an entire organ in his mouth and glugged it down whole with a great pull on his bottle of pale ale. He grunted. “Is Lady Raz gonna be there? Uh, wearing that sari?”
“I was just gonna call her about that,” said Charles, who was dabbing at Elias’ mouth with a napkin. “You had enough, Boon?”
“Uh-huh! Da full tummy!” said Elias, emphasizing this statement with a rather loud angel burp.
“Damn! Where does that come from?” asked Nathan. “Well, I'm definitely coming to the perfume shit.”
“And I ams comes too, wit' my seetar,” promised Skwisgaar.
“Come on,” said Charles, putting Elias on the ground and taking him by the hand. “We gotta get you washed up, Boon.”
“Da baf?” asked Elias dubiously as they exited the double doors from the lunchroom. He was now sufficiently old to view cleaning rituals with suspicion.
“Yeah, but you can play with your Facebones toy,” Charles told him as they made their way down the corridor.
“Oh, yeah, da Facebone!”
Charles had already hit the speed dial on his phone, silently gloating at his ninja-like parenting skills.
“SARIEL! Are you gonna be at Ganesh’s perfume launch? The Emperor of Bollywood is hosting, Khan Ali Khan!”
“So I take it you’re going, Raziel?” said Charles as he led Elias into the suite he shared with Ganesh.
“Hell yes! It’s not every day you get to party with Emperor Khan.”
“He doesn’t really refer to himself that way, I hope,” said Charles.
“These are movie people! Of course he refers to himself that way!” said Raziel. “And from what I've heard, you better kiss his Bolly-wood as well.”
“Remind me why I'm doing this again,” asked Charles as he turned on the bathtub tap. “You get your bath later!” he told Murgatroyd, who had his paws up on the edge of the tub, wagging his tail.
“What?” asked Raziel.
“Was talking to the dog. Raziel, why am I doing this?” asked Charles, pouring in the Facebones Happy Bathtime Brutal Bubblestuff to make a rich white bubbly (and metal) lather.
“Come on. It'll be fun! Akshay Kapoor will be there.”
“What?” said Charles, who choked a little at this news.
“Though I hear he'll be wearing a shirt. At least at first!” giggled Raziel.
“Why should.... Why should I even care about this,” asked Charles, helping Elias into the tub.
“Facebone! An' subberine!” ordered the child as soon as he was situated. Charles brought the squeaky Facebones and a rubber yellow submarine toy down from a shelf.
“Uh, maybe you should care because he's been your desktop background for the last month and a half?” came Raziel’s laughing voice.
Charles turned red while Elias splashed happily in the tub. “Can you get out the wings for Daddy?” he asked Elias as he took out a bottle of baby soap.
“Weens, Daddy!” sang Elias. Murgatroyd yipped and circled around as he was suddenly splashed with soapy water.
“Look, we gotta clean the wings now,” Charles told Raziel, cringing away from another soapy tsunami. “So I need to get off.”
“I wanna picture first!” said Raziel.
“OK, OK, said Charles. “Smile for Daddy!” he instructed Elias, who he could now barely see beneath a pile of bubbles. Charles had barely clicked before Elias had soaked him with another flurry of water.
Charles sunk down into the warm, soapy water, leaning his back against the bathtub’s smooth wall and watching Elias happily splash with his toys at the other end of the tub. He propped one foot up on the ceramic edge and wished for a cigarette. It was then that he heard Ganesh’s laughter from the doorway.
“Bath time for both of my dears,” laughed Ganesh, stopping to kiss Elias on the top of his stubbly head.
“The only way to get the wings clean. Unless we take him through the car wash again,” sighed Charles.
Ganesh smiled as he picked curiously through the pile of soaking wet clothes Charles had discarded on the drying rack. He picked up Charles’ Dethphone and looked at the home screen. “Oh, what a lovely image of soap bubbles.”
“Our child is in there somewhere,” said Charles.
“A perfect idea,” said Ganesh, picking up Elias and turning him around to sit on Charles’s lap. “Now smile you two!” he ordered, taking out his own phone.
“Ganesh, don’t do that,” pleaded Charles, who was too tired to protest very much.
“I need a new background image for my phone!” said Ganesh.
“OK, OK. But you send that to Raziel, and I will fucking kill you,” warned Charles.
“Come along, we need to get out of the bath now,” urged Ganesh, flourishing a big white towel.
“Noooooooo!” said Elias.
“First he doesn’t wanna get in, now he doesn’t wanna get out,” said Charles.
“Come on,” said Ganesh, picking up a mildly protesting Elias, who was still holding his Facebones and yellow submarine toys. “It is a lovely afternoon. We will get you out on the balcony to dry those wings in the sun.”
“Da balc!” said Elias, who suddenly broke for the door. Ganesh momentarily lost his grip on his slippery son who went tearing off butt naked, his little wolf yipping after him.
“But first we will put on our pajamas,” laughed Ganesh, breaking out an extra arm or two and catching the boy just as he reached the bathroom door.
“I need to learn how to do that arm trick,” sighed Charles, who had finally gotten up and started toweling himself off.
“It does have its uses,” said Ganesh, who was simultaneously vigorously rubbing Elias with the towel and tickling the boy’s stomach.
“He got as far as the kitchen last time. But they knew to sidetrack him with pie.”
“Our little escape artist,” said Ganesh indulgently. He helped Elias into his elephant pajamas, which had special wing holes, and then let the impatient boy loose.
Charles had wrapped himself in a fuzzy bathrobe, and sat on the edge of the bathtub, pulling out the stopper and watching it drain. “Down and down it goes,” he said.
“Shall I stir up a batch of drinks for us, jaanu?” asked Ganesh, who was still standing in the doorway. Charles shrugged. “Extra olives?” urged Ganesh.
“Yeah, that would be OK.”
“You seem particularly distracted today,” said Ganesh.
“Ganesh, I gotta lead a bunch of my friends and family into a deep dark pit – something my horrible Father built – where we’ll probably all end up dead. Or worse.”
“What is worse than dead?” inquired Ganesh.
“I dunno! Maybe we’ll all end up with mullet hairdos!” said Charles as Ganesh surrounded him with a number of arms.
“How about this?” asked Ganesh. “We shall set the boy down for his nap, and then we will have a nice long shower and groom your wings. You would like that, wouldn’t you?”
“How is washing my wings gonna solve anything!” said Charles, who for once did not seem to object (much) to the embrace.
“I am certain your feathers still bear the sticky fingerprints of many of my Auntie Lakshmi's manifestations,” said Ganesh, narrowing his eyes.
“Oh, now who’s jealous!”
“Slightly jealous,” smiled Ganesh. “Let me get those drinks started,” he added, giving Charles a little push. Charles settled himself into a lounge chair out on the deck, watching Elias and Murgatroyd playing their own unique version of fetch, which was sort of a combination of catch and keep away, involving a lot of screaming and barking. He thought about grabbing his laptop, but then convinced himself that the wireless network sucked out here.
Ganesh brought out cocktails, and the two adults sat in companionable silence for a while, until Elias seemed to quite abruptly run out of steam. Yawning, he pulled himself into Ganesh's lap and, wrapping his dark wings around himself as if he were some kind of oversize bat, fell almost instantly to sleep.
“Our weird kid,” sighed Charles, popping a gin-soaked olive into his mouth.
Ganesh smiled over Elias: he looked as if he would keep the boy there in his lap until the end of time. Charles knew he would.
“Out like a light,” Charles laughed as Elias started to snore in time with Murgatroyd, who was now curled up with his chin on Ganesh's leg.
“I was taught such a thing is the result of a clear conscience. Since my acquaintanceship with you, I would say it is more of an angel 'thing.'” said Ganesh. He rubbed the boy's short hair. “Would you still have affection for me if I cut off all my hair?” he mused.
“I'd like you with a mullet,” said Charles. “Or if you started wearing tacky clothes. Or gained 50 pounds.”
“No. Really?” asked Ganesh, who seemed honestly surprised.
“Have you ever been with a human, Ganesh? I mean for more than eight hours?”
“Well, possibly not,” admitted Ganesh.
“They're not like us. They're not eternal. They change,” said Charles. “But they're still themselves. It's difficult to explain.”
“You are thinking of someone in particular, if I am not mistaken,” said Ganesh, noticing Charles’ wistful expression.
“Yeah. I am thinking of someone in particular,” agreed Charles. “A human I knew. Once,” he added. “Maybe another time?”
“I could always inquire of Lady Raziel,” said Ganesh, studying Charles. “Perhaps I am speaking out of turn, but believe me when I say this: I am currently working on something that might prove … useful.”
“Useful how?” asked Charles, who suddenly found himself sitting forward.
“I can reveal no more at this time,” said Ganesh. “Simply … trust me,” he said, tracing along Elias' small ear with a finger.
“Mysterious bastard,” grumbled Charles, sitting back. Ganesh smiled and removed something from his jacket pocket. He tossed it over to Charles.
Charles broke the root in half and, smiling, took a good whiff.
“Do you guys got any BALLS?” inquired Nathan Explosion to the rather befuddled group of servants who swarmed the heaped banquet table in the center of the utterly packed grand ballroom in the residence of Khan Ali Khan, Emperor of Bollywood. Charles and Ganesh stood nearby, as did Skwisgaar, who was carrying his now ever present sitar.
Charles had been taken aback, first off because, although the house was as crowded with party-goers as a bustling Indian metropolis, they were not in Bombay or Delhi, as he had expected, but rather in Dubai. The home – if you could call it that – actually looked less like the residence of an Indian movie star than a Seventeenth Century European palace, complete with surrounding topiary-studded gardens. Despite the fact that the house was situated right on a lovely, white sandy beach they were surrounded by a number of swimming pools (Charles could count at least three from where he stood) which were of more modern design.
Charles had gleaned that the island was man-made. They had reached it after driving through a rather long undersea tunnel. He found himself actually somewhat impressed at the whole deal, although he was careful not to share his thoughts with Skwisgaar and especially Nathan, who would have immediately wondered why they were being gypped by not having their own Dethklok island. Charles was instead currently gazing at the back wall, trying not to be too obvious about determining whether the intricate design in fact used real gold leaf as well as inlaid jewelry.
Ganesh whispered to one of the servants, who nodded and soon returned with a platter.
“Wait. Isn't that just lamb meatballs?” Charles whispered to Ganesh as the latter hustled him away from the banquet table.
“Will Nathan know the difference?” replied Ganesh.
“This is your fault, you know,” said Charles, who looked back regretfully at the table. He hadn't finished scanning the contents for pie and pie-like items. “Uh, I dunno about leaving my band alone like this....”
“Never mind. We shall get you some canapes later, dear.”
“The rocket ship is nice!” said Charles, regarding the altered henna tattoo that now adorned Nathan Explosion’s cheek.
“Did you like that? Yes, we have told him if anyone asks that his facial decoration is in honor of India’s space program!”
“India’s what?” asked Charles.
“Pork Chop played an astronaut in a recent film, so that will work out well. Meantime, there is someone I would like you to meet. Oh, there we are,” said Ganesh, hustling Charles towards a corner far away from the tasty treats. They approached a slim man standing just outside on one of the patios overlooking the sea. He seemed to be brooding out over the ocean waves.
“Poojums!” hailed Ganesh.
Charles smiled thinly. It hadn't taken him long to realize that all of Ganesh's Bollywood buddies had ridiculous, nonsensical nicknames. He was taken aback though as the party guest turned and exclaimed, “Haathi!” which was evidently Ganesh's stupid nickname. Even though the insanely handsome party in question was currently wearing a shirt, Charles almost immediately recognized him as the actor, Akshay Kapoor.
“This is Charles,” said Ganesh, indicating his gibbering husband once the two had broken their warm embrace.
“Charles-ji!” exclaimed Kapoor sincerely. Charles held out a shaking hand, which Kapoor ignored, instead wrapping the stunned angel in an enthusiastic, if still brooding hug. “How nice to meet you! Haathi is a great friend!”
“Uh,” said Charles, who seemed to have lost control of his vocal chords.
“Charles is a fan of yours,” confided Ganesh, which just caused Charles' blush to spread from his cheeks all the way down his neck.
“Oh! Would you like a photograph, Charles-ji?” inquired Kapoor, who was brooding politely.
“Uh,” agreed Charles. Kapoor draped a friendly arm around Charles’ trembling shoulders, and Ganesh clicked his cell phone.
“Oh, that is lovely,” said Ganesh. “Don’t you think so?” he asked Charles.
“Uh,” opined Charles.
“Terrific talking with you two,” said Kapoor. “I like chatting with real people. Those in the industry get…. You know….”
“Oh, I know full well!” agreed Ganesh, as Charles mutely wondered what could make a love god and a Fallen angel seem like the “real people” in the room. “Well, we need to get back inside with the rest, to await our host!”
“See you, Haathi!”
“Yes, Poojums!” said Ganesh distractedly as he once again grabbed Charles and started dragging him away. “So,” he inquired, “do you like your picture.”
“Uh,” said Charles. “Uh. You don’t think, as the night gets later…?”
“Yeeees?”
“He might lose the shirt?”
Ganesh roared with laughter. “We’ll try again after Poojums has a few gin and tonics in him,” he promised.
“Where did those guys wander off to?” mumbled Nathan. Hearing nothing, he repeated, “Hey, did you see where Charles and Ganesh- Oh, fuck, Skwisgaar!” But as Nathan realized as he scanned the crowd, he was too late as the crafty guitarist, sensing MILF, had already slipped away towards the opposite side of the grand ballroom. Nathan looked at the knot of women the Swede was obviously heading for. They were babes, that was sure. They weren't young chicks, but Nathan even would have nailed them. Well, except for-
“Hey, Nathan!”
“Oh, uh, hi Lady Raz!” said Nathan as he spotted the little angel emerging from the crowd to stand alongside him. “Hey, nice sari.”
“You should see it when it gets wet,” she winked.
“Uhhhhhh,” said Nathan, whose synapses had momentarily gone offline. “Would you like some BALLS?” he asked, indicating his little red plastic bowl.
“What, the lamb meatballs?” she asked. “Maybe later.”
“Where’s King Wotan dude?”
“He’ll be here in a bit. Have you seen Khan Ali Khan, the Emperor of Bollywood yet?”
“Uh, no,” said Nathan, thoughtfully chewing on a meatball. “Dude doesn't really want you to call him that, does he? I mean, it seems sort of douche-y.”
“Yeah, but he's the Emperor of Bollywood. He gets to be a douche. That's why it's good being emperor!”
“Huh, I hadn't thought of that. Hey, Lady Raz, you know anything about those chicks?”
“Which chicks?” asked Raziel, raising her sunglasses to the top of her head.
“THOSE CHICKS,” pointing to the group of what looked for all the world like aging supermodels that Skwisgaar was rapidly approaching. Nathan wasn’t exactly sure how he had gotten this impression, but they had this look like women you wouldn’t wanna mess with. Their expressions were ones he remembered all too well from Rebecca: the frowns of disdain literally looked painted on.
“Oh, yeah, those are the wives,” supplied Raziel.
“Whose wives?” chuckled Nathan, wondering just how dead Skwisgaar was going to be.
“The Bolly-wives. And, just between you and me? I don’t think Skwisgaar’s gonna have very much luck this time.”
“What, you’re kidding!” said Nathan, who thought that this evening might indeed turn into fun despite the dreadful lack of strippers.
“Raziel,” said Charles, who had just walked up with Ganesh. “Where’s Wotan?”
“He’ll be here in A BIT, Charles don't be IMPATIENT!” Nathan told them.
“And … who are those women?” Charles asked, indicating the knot of surly if well-dressed women.
“They’re the BOLLY-WIVES. Where have you been all evening?” sighed Nathan.
“Having a scintillating conversation with Akshay Kapoor,” laughed Ganesh.
“And why are those women all glaring down at us?” asked Charles.
“Maybe they want some BALLS!” suggested Nathan.
“They’re glaring at me! The Indian press has been reporting that Khan Ali Khan and I have been spotted canoodling!” announced Raziel.
“Uh, what the fuck is canoodling, and why would you do it with that guy?” asked Nathan.
“Where did the Indian press get the idea that you’re canoodling with Khan Ali Khan?” Charles asked Raziel.
“I had my publicist plant the story,” said Raziel.
“WHAT!” said Charles.
“Oh, everybody does it,” she told him.
“Who’s everybody?” asked Charles. “Are these the same everybodies who have a perfume line?”
“Oh, wait, there he is!” said Raziel, pointing up the grand staircase.
“Porkchops is here!” agreed Ganesh.
“Wait, we get pork chops now?” asked Nathan.
The room quieted as a man had just stepped out on top of the stairs.
“That's the dude who's been in college the last 20 years?” asked Nathan, referring to Khan’s many charming musicals set on university campuses.
“That's the one!” said Raziel.
“Huh. He looks shorter in person,” said Nathan.
But the background music had begun to swell, and suddenly, Khan Ali Khan was dancing down the stair, and lip-synching to a cleverly concealed playback singer, and clearly singing to none other than Raziel, as she was now somehow picked out by a spotlight.
Antediluvian woman, stay away from Ali
Antediluvian woman, just let me be
Don’t elbow into my famous dance
You sure not the Queen of France
I got more important things to do
Than teach my chorography to you
Now woman, go away
Antediluvian woman, listen don’t upstage
“Raziel,” said Charles, poking her in the ribs with his elbow.
“What?”
“Who’s that group of women over there?” he said, pointing out a tight group of expensively-dressed, scowling ladies in one corner. “The Bolly-wives? Are they models or something?”
“Oh, that’s Khan’s wife and her best friends!” said Raziel. “I mean, best friends as of this week. She recently dumped Akshay Kapoor’s wife for Rishi Rakesh’s wife as her second best friend. It was all over the papers!”
“A, they just brushed off Skwisgaar. Skwisgaar! And B, they look like they wanna kill us, and specifically you,” said Charles.
“Yeah, they do!”
Meanwhile, Khan Ali Khan, continued with his number, lip-synching his heart out.
Antediluvian woman, just hasten hence
Antediluvian woman, do we need a fence?
Don’t try to match my famous moves
You’ll just miss my funky groove
Colored lights bring sparkle to my smile
My dimples can beat you by a mile.
Now woman….
A room full of party guests was now dancing and clapping along to Khan’s marvelous song. “I obviously need an answer song!” said Raziel. “Did Skwisgaar bring anything cooler than that freaking sitar.”
The erstwhile guitarist, who had just returned to the group, befuddled expression on his face, grunted something that may have been a no.
“Aw, c’mon Skwis!” urged Nathan, putting down his balls. “We could do better than this! I caught a look at that playback singer, and he’s FREAKING OLD.”
Raziel had meanwhile whipped out her purse, somehow extracting an electric guitar. She tossed it to Skwisgaar. He struck up a chord, which echoed around the room. Which was weird, because it wasn’t even plugged in. But quite suddenly, in the quickest setup in metal history, Skwisgaar was grinding out a familiar riff.
Raziel, who was now outside next to a pool, began to dance, mouthing to her own playback singer.
Well, you don’t know how I can move
Why don’t you watch me go a little while
On a magic Desi groove?
Well, you don’t know what you can see
What don’t you watch what my sari does now
Under a convenient deluge?
Open your eyes now
Look outside now
Let the water wash away
As if on cue, because it was, Ganesh waved an arm, and suddenly Raziel was standing under a rainstorm.
“You guys rehearsed this?” Charles asked him.
“Well, we may have, a little. Keep things fresh,” admitted Ganesh.
“But why?” asked Charles.
“You will see,” smiled Ganesh.
Raziel continued to sing and dance in the now sopping wet sari.
Last night I held Aladdin’s lamp
While I was rehearsing this day
But before I got the moves all right
Well someone tried to take the lamp away
I tossed them down a well
No one fucks with Raziel
Well, you don’t know how I can fight
Why don’t you watch me go a little while
On a magical production flight
Well, you don’t know but you can see
What don’t you watch as I take on
Those ladies eyeing me
Open your eyes now
Look inside now
I’m here to take you away!
To Charles’s surprise (and the apparent disapproval of the Bollywood Wives), Khan Ali Khan had run down the stairs and began to dance outside alongside Raziel, who had taken out a rather large sword.
Charles found his eyes suddenly drawn over to where the wives were clustered. They now stood in a circle, and each projected a beam of light into the center. It was like three spotlights, only for some unearthly reason, the three beams of light collided and merged to form a glowing shape that looked almost human.
The music changed again.
Got my saber sharpened
Head out on the main street
Lookin’ for a sword fight
With whoever crosses me
…sang Raziel.
Yeah darlin’
Gonna slice some dudes up
Take the world like you’re playin’ Left for Dead
Try firing your guns if you want to
We’ll slice them to shreds
…sang Khan.
And then they both joined in for the chorus.
Like an Seraph full of dread
I was born
Born to behead!
I come from the sky
And I’m never gonna diiiiiie
Born to beheeeeeaaaad!
A weird, eerie light suddenly flooded the room. The beams of illumination from the Bolly-wives had coalesced. The three women collapsed to the floor, fainting dead away, as the light seemed to grow inward, and then exploded outward. And out of the light sprang a glorious warrior goddess. She was dressed in finery, and carried jeweled sabers in each of her four arms.
She screeched, an unearthly sound, and leapt across the room, headed straight for where Raziel was dancing with Khan outside. The angry goddess swung wildly, several sabers flashing at once. Raziel, despite having only one saber herself, easily parried the furious blows, earning the ooh’s and aah’s of the impressed party guests. Charles lost sight of the fight as the crowd massed towards them.
“Come along,” Ganesh urged him, pulling Charles along as he threaded between the fascinated Indian glitterati. They emerged an excruciatingly long time later, Charles noting that Raziel was still dueling the multi-armed goddess alongside one of the pools.
“Can you do something?” he asked Ganesh, but when he turned, Ganesh was gone.
Raziel suddenly stopped, holding her saber in front of her, bowing slightly.
“Raziel! What the fuck are you doing?” yelled Charles.
The goddess drew back as if to strike the killing blow, but suddenly twirled around in a blind fury, as all four or her sword arms had been caught by the wrist. “What is this insolence!” she spat, whirling around.
“Hello there, Auntie Durga,” said Ganesh pleasantly.
“Ganesha?” sputtered the goddess, writhing out of Ganesh’s grip. “What in Rab’s immortal fury are you doing here? I am right in the middle of my vengeance.”
“Yes, we needed to chat,” said Ganesh.
“This is a bloody inconvenient time to do it! That angel whore has been canoodling with Khan Ali Khan!”
“Oh, we haven’t been canoodling,” said Raziel. “I’m happily married.”
“Ganesh! Raziel! What the hell is going on?” asked Charles, who had just run over.
“I am terribly sorry for the misunderstanding,” said Ganesh, “but you had been asleep for so long, we had no idea how else to wake you.”
“I’m bloody awake now! What is the meaning of this? Why are there angels here?” demanded Durga.
“This is my friend, the Lady Raziel, and here is my dear husband, Sariel,” Ganesh told her, smiling his most charming smile.
“You married an angel? Are you mad?” asked Durga.
“We are sorry, but we didn’t know quite where to send the invitation,” said Ganesh.
“Is that why you woke me? You want your Rab-damned blender or toaster oven?”
“No actually,” said Ganesh.
“We wanna talk to you about the Abyss,” said Raziel.
“The Abyss?” asked Durga.
“Yeah,” said Raziel.
“Why the hell are you asking her about that?” asked Charles.
“Because, once, long ago,” said the goddess, putting away her blades, “I ventured there.”
“Doods! Did we miss anythin’?” asked Pickles as he suddenly appeared, alongside Murderface,at the edge of one of Khan Ali Khan’s large swimming pools. Nathan and Skwisgaar were lolling there, alongside some spectacularly beautiful women.
“Hey, Pickles. This is Miss Universe 2006, Miss Universe 2007, Miss Universe 2009 and Miss Universe 2011,” said Nathan. “And that over there is Miss Universe 2012,” he said, pointing to the girl waving from the diving board.
“Wait, have dey even had dat contest yet?” asked Pickles.
“I ams not t’inks so, but I t’inks she ams da winners for sures,” Skwisgaar assured them.
“So wut wuz da party like, doods?” inquired Pickles.
“The housche is schtill schtanding,” observed Murderface, not bothering to mention that this raised heavy suspicions of an unsuccessful event.
“It was pretty cool. There was some cool music, and some kinda gay dancing, but then there was a badass sword fight, and Lady Raz wore a sari that got all wet,” he whispered, looking around to see if Wotan was within hearing distance.
“Well, shit, doods, I knew we shoulda got here sooner,” sighed Pickles, sitting down in a lounge chair and helping himself to a cocktail offered by one of the many hovering servants.
“Oh, you have finally made it!” said Ganesh, as he walked up along with Charles, Raziel and Wotan.
“Dood, we were too late fer da fun,” sighed Pickles.
“Oh, that’s fine, I missed the damned sword fight myself,” said Wotan.
“I believe Porkchops’ home security system captured most of it on high definition video,” Ganesh offered.
“Splendid! Well, maybe we’ll go watch that with your friend!”
“How are those lady dudes?” asked Nathan. “You know, the ones with the weird light?”
“Pffft,” said Skwisgaar, who was still rather upset at the dis.
“The will be fine,” said Ganesh, wrapping his stethoscope around his neck. “As a result of the enchantment, they will sleep for 30 days and 30 nights, and then wake up completely normal.”
“So, uh, we’re never invited back?” asked Nathan.
“On the contrary. Porkchops was just thanking me for the splendid party. He wished me to convey this to you, as he has already departed for Singapore,” smiled Ganesh.
“Oh, uh, sleepy wife. Yeah, like girlfriend in a coma,” mused Nathan.
“At any rate, he has kindly offered us the run of his mansion during his absence,” concluded Ganesh.
“Hey, Porkchops is a cool dude,” said Nathan.
All turned to a sudden unearthly cry. “Ams dat Gurga agains?” asked Skwisgaar.
“No, it is not Durga, it is just Poojums, post gin and tonics,” laughed Ganesh, as Akshay Kapoor (the source of the howling) had mounted the diving board at a nearby pool and, prior to jumping, had begun to rip his own shirt off.
“GANESH!” shouted Charles as the now half-naked quite probably drunken Kapoor dove into the pool. “The waterproof camera!” Ganesh laughingly tossed his phone to Charles, who had already broken into a run.
“That guy is nuts,” said Nathan approvingly.
“Wanna see my sword fight on closed circuit?” asked Raziel.
“Lead the way,” laughed Wotan, as they, along with Dethklok and the beauty queens, slowly made their way inside.
“So, uh, Ganesh dude,” said Nathan, as he and the god lingered after the others.
“Yes, Nathan?” asked Ganesh, who was smilingly watching Charles photograph a now dripping wet Kapoor.
“Uh, you don’t mind Charles taking freaky pictures of that Poojam guy?”
“Sariel has been in a low mood recently, so it warms my heart to see him enjoying himself,” said Ganesh. They both cringed as Kapoor, with a great splash, pulled Charles too into the pool. “But what did you really want to ask me, Nathan?”
“Your aunt, uh, Durga? She’s been to the Abyss?”
“It was a very long time ago. But, yes.”
“So, we’re going?”
“I believe that is inevitable.”
“I’m not scared of that shit, you know. Even if I’m human.”
“Perhaps you should be,” mused Ganesh.
Nathan frowned, but Charles just at that moment padded up, dripping wet but grinning. “I promised to get Poojums a Facebones bath toy! He loves Facebones!”
“Well isn’t that nice,” said Ganesh. “Perhaps we will invite him over for a nice bubble bath some time,” he told Charles, draping an arm over his shoulders and leading him inside.
“He’s a really nice guy!” enthused Charles. “He loves Facebones.”
Nathan stood a while, alone, watching the couple retreat inside. “I like Facebones,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. And then he followed them inside.
