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She stalked on the pavement, newly-jacked stilletos
thwapping with each forceful step. Crunch. She didn't
look down when the heel broke. Took a whiff. Eww.
Wolfsbane. The Majestic and Most Exalted Terror looked
down at her dress, noting the shimmery remains of
pulverized crusty glow-worm and pixie dust. Her
gorgeous, Valentine card-inspired weekend purchase.
The gloriously *new* red sheath- Now it wasn't worth the damn cleaning bill. Glorificus sighed with mounting annoyance. It was a couple of couple of blocks yet 'till the apartment. Where were the minion morons when she was in desperate need for a lift? Her little snack was wearing out. And she was thirsty. Of course, she'd drunk the snack's mochaccino, but she'd also eaten the untouched biscotti. Crumbs left in the throat. What was that he'd stuttered? "Unh, uh. Um. I'm Jonathan. Did you need something?" That little getting-into-Ben's skin had taken more than she'd bargained for. As well as the seeking-him-out-when-he-so-obviously-is-trying-not-to-be-found. Hmmph. One of these damn Third_Hunka_Cowchip_fromtheSun days, Little Brother. OOh. It really was time for a chunkier quickie. * She glanced behind her at the overly narrow little street. //Even for this part of the 'burbs. Boonies of a Hellmouth 'burb.// At the nice, little trailer houses //-*Why* do they call them houses?-// lined up along the little street like nice, little shoddy breadboxes. That obese septagenarian had been just the thing. Of course, the old ticker couldn't handle. But at least she gave out a good oozy bang of energy-thoughtmeal before giving out. //Besides, already lots of meaningless human memories for the saggy, (shudder) wrinkly broad.// Surprisingly full of clarity. Or rather, had been. She stepped on a bed. //How cute; she liked pansies.// Glory continued on her way. * The Long Mile. The Home Stretch. Humans were a pathetic, useless lot of sniveling, wriggly pondscum letchers. Usually with poor fashion sense. Like that one, at the hospital lab. With the long, floppy haircut. Growing out of nasty, schtinky low self-esteem. She'd looked into his eyes while she'd rammed him with the steel bar. And the *stink* she could smell. Uggh. All over him. Recent, human sex. Repeatedly. The worst part of it all was amidst the splitsecond chaotic Arrgh of *everyone* in the room just freakin ganging up on HER_on her Beatific Omnipotence- was just the darndest yuck-all thing. On her body. In response. The female version of a raging hard-on. "Grrr." She was barefoot now. Had been for about three blocks. //Oh, Glory, hon. Stop snarling.// Maybe she'd rip off his head the next time they'd meet. With her teeth. Or other parts. Or maybe not. //It's not becoming. Especially for a god.// Definitely gonna use the pumice tonight. With the Lavender salts. So fine, then. If that's how they wanted to smack the chihuahua. Cowering, crouching spaniel? Hell, no. More like hidden, pissed-off Cerberus. She could play hard ball, if need be. Time to drop the kid gloves. Humans and their stupid metaphors. Limited and inferior, their capacity for language. Much like everything else. All insects, anyhow. Ants. She looked at the blackout-darkened two-story house. This street and the next. At least the Sunnydale generators kept every other streetlight on. Stubborn, pesky losers. Fine. New Plan. Hmm. Glory paused for a sec, and stood. She sniffed the air with her eyelashes. It had been hot the last three days, a quickie summer break of sorts from California's strangely chilly 2001 winter in the 40's. Forecast for the morrow. Looks like rain. She smiled with perfect teeth. Something was already brewing. |