Page 1 of Monster Mishap

ONE

Those dildos aren’t going to use themselves

DAISY

“They’ve found me, Daisy! They’ve found me.” Edgar, my roommate, is zipping back and forth in his wheelchair, glaring out of the window like the world has personally affronted him. On his bad days, that may as well be true.

Today isn’t a bad day, it’s what I like to call a fun day. One of the times when he’s more lucid and manages to craft stories that sound like they’re straight out of one of my favorite fairy tales.

“Daisy,” he roars. “Prepare to make your escape!”

I toss the duster aside and climb down off the step stool, leaving the ceiling fan to its dust. “Escape?” Clutching my chest, I walk toward him. “Is it that serious?”

He spins in his chair, bumping into a pile of random knickknacks. Edgar isn’t a handsome man. He has skin that’s a strange shade of white which gives the appearance that he’s always one breath away from barfing, and his once thick brown hair now sparsely covers his wrinkled head. He’s also in desperate need of a caretaker, but he’s been banned from the providers in our area. I hadn’t expected to meet Edgar when I responded to an ad to rent a room in his house after being unexpectedly evicted, but I’m glad I did. Who knows what would have happened if I wasn’t the one he accepted as a tenant.

Life has taught me that people aren’t always nice. Sometimes they’re horrible.

He raises his wiry eyebrows. “One creature carrying an unidentified object. There might be more of them.”

“Should I call for backup?” Ally, my co-worker at the call center, would gladly pretend to be a dispatcher. I’ve never been more thankful for telecommuting than when I moved into Edgar’s house. My anxiety could never cope with leaving him alone for eight hours a day, especially not when he’s worried about people coming after him like he is now.

“On this planet? Bah. We need to find the witches; they owe me a favor, and they’ll know how to get rid of this vermin.”

Edgar, while occasionally super grumpy, gets easily confused, and he needs someone who actually gives a shit about him. If Edgar has a family, they don’t care enough to check in on him. We’re a lot alike in that respect. It would be nice for any of my family members to remember I exist and actually give a crap about my life, but my texts go unread and my calls go unanswered. I’m not surprised. My parents probably rejoiced when I moved out and they were no longer obligated to tolerate my presence.

“We have to find the witches, Daisy.”

“We still haven’t found the bespelled amulet, though, remember? We can’t go if we don’t have the transportation spell.” Or so Edgar has informed me time and time again. I probably shouldn’t indulge Edgar, though honestly, he responds better when I don’t treat him like someone who’s slowly losing grip on reality. Besides, I think he likes it when I take him seriously, it gives him a sense of purpose and we all need a reason to exist.

“Fucking fuck.” He growls and peers out the window again, wheeling closer to the glass. “It’s nearly at the doorstep now. Run while you can, Daisy. He’s here for me.”

I step over a stack of random books and papers and make my way toward him. Since I moved in, I’ve done my best to clean the place up, but there’s only so much I can do short of throwing everything out. Edgar cherishes his belongings and doesn’t seem to notice how I almost fall face first into the window as I dodge another stack of random crap.

My fingers press into the cool glass and my eyes snap to the mailman. He’s wrapped in full winter gear, bracing against a harsh wind, and what he’s carrying is certainlynotunidentified. At a glance, it’s a seemingly innocent rectangular package, but the company’s logo—Pleasure More—is written in bright red letters along the side and there are little dick shaped hearts covering the entire box. It doesn’t take a genius to guess what might be inside. I’m not about to tell Edgar the package is mine or explain what it’ll be used for. I didn’t exactly anticipate him noticing the delivery.

“I’ll handle it. I’ve never met a man I couldn’t charm.” People pleasing shouldn’t be used as a weapon, but we all have our strengths. I give him a wink and scurry around Edgar’s treasures—AKA junk he refuses to part with—and grasp the door handle.

“Daisy,” Edgar hisses. “You’re innocent. You can’t—”

I rip the door open and a frigid breeze slams into me. “Why have you come?” I demand while crossing my arms and narrowing my eyes on the unsuspecting mailman.

“Uh.” The guy glances down at the package, eyeing the phallic shaped hearts and flicks his gaze back to meet mine. “I think this is for you?” There are traces of laughter that follow his question.

Yeah, laugh it up, buddy. While I’m one of Pleasure More’s frequent customers, I seriously hate their packaging. Maybe I can submit a suggestion through their website. Then again, I’m not sure I want to do anything that would risk my customer account. My sex life’s years-long dry spell is one reason, and I love their products, and as far as Edgar knows, it’s a weapon. Crap. What else could it be besides a weapon or a dildo?

Think, Daisy, think.

“A courting gift?” I gasp and quickly snatch the package from his grasp. Another cold breeze sweeps through the door and I tuck the box under my arm with a shiver. “See, Edgar? He isn’t here to fight, he’s here to try and get into my loins.”

The mailman rears back. “What?”

Ignoring him, I sigh. “If you were a prince, then my heart would be yours to claim.”

“Is he a royal bastard?” Edgar asks, somehow sounding grumpier than before, like a prince would be the worst possible person that could show up on his doorstep.

I shake my head. “No. ’Tis only a peasant.” I look at the guy whose face is scrunched in confusion. “I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time, but I’m waiting to marry until I find my prince. I’m sure you understand.”

The mailman’s eyebrows slam together. “Lady, what the hell are you talking about?”

---