Page 58 of A Shade of Myself
Pyotr did a little hopping dance to avoid the vacuum. A surge of hope shot through me that I’d be deposited safely but a barrage of socks exploded out of the cleared chute, knocking me off the gargoyle and onto a lumpy pile of fabric.
Getting my bearings, I smacked Pyotr with the hose, which splintered and broke. “Did you lick my toes?”
He cowered, covering his head. “I thought you wanted me to!”
“Not ever.” I shuddered. The kinkiest action I’d had in recent memory, and it had been with a depressed gargoyle wearing brown plaid. How was this my actual life? I smoothed a hand over my hair and clothes, seeking any semblance of dignity, then grabbed a bright blue sock adorned with tiny Pokémon. “Open the door.”
A narrow green door appeared in the rock face on the far side of the cave.
Pyotr glanced down at the ground. “Are you mad at me?”
“Not really.” I held up a hand. “So long as it doesn’t happen again. Okay?”
He shuffled his feet, wringing his hands in front of him. “Will you still bring me movies?”
Like I’d say no to that woebegone face even if I was mad? “Of course.”
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Aww. Did he even have any other friends or was he stuck in this joyless void serving the Kefitzat Haderech with no company except the neon sign? A foul-mouthed golem, a grumpy wolf, the Loki of the hip replacement set, and stone Eeyore here; I was really racking up the charmers in my inner circle. I used to work with very nice people. Normal people.
And how dull had that been?
I hugged Pyotr, and he patted my back with a large hand and very gentle touch. “Don’t lick without consent,” I said.
The advice that moms had to dispense, I tell you.
