Little Sophia was the perfect little angel.

“Young lady, I thought I told you not to eat after six!”

“But this one’s only my fifth!”

Pensive Parabellum shook his head ruefully. Little Sophia was clearly in the wrong but she also never ceased to delight. Standing there with her hand balled into a tight little fist around the last cookie in the jar, she hadn’t missed a beat in delivering her response.

There was no guilt or remorse in her eyes. No shifty expression. No tell-tale blink. Nothing. She simply wasn’t about to take ownership of her wrong.

“I meant after six o’clock, and you know it, young lady!”

“Yes, Grandad.”

Criminy, she was good!

A loud, obnoxious pop. Sophia was chewing bubble gum again, and with that same practiced, scornful look. It was a look that announced her world weariness for all the world to see. That less of a shit could be given.

Still, Sophia was Grandad’s perfect little angel. An angel sporting an ugly, beaked skull with black wings between her dainty shoulder blades.

Pensive Parabellum harrumphed. Like any grandparent, he was mortified. This was not behaviour worthy of a well-brought up teenager.

“Dolce, why did you get this stinkaroo on your back?” he asked, indicating her tattoo.

“Because there wasn’t enough space on my chest.” Another obnoxious pop.

Pensive Parabellum didn’t quite know how to respond to that.

Criminy, she was good!

“Blond? Brunette? Or red?”

Pensive Parabellum looked up from the half-empty mug to fix his buddy with a stony stare. The last pint, apparently, was excess. He hadn’t counted on that.

“W-w-what?”

His buddy guffawed and clapped Pensive Parabellum on the shoulder.

“You’re getting old, soft cock!”

Pensive Parabellum shook his head as if to clear it. Yes, he was definitely seeing double. He shook it some more. This bucks party was well and truly in full swing, and he was barely keeping up.

“So, blond? Brunette? Or red? Don’t keep ’em waiting, mate!”

What was he choosing? Pensive Parabellum wasn’t entirely sure. He waved his hand helplessly. What he meant was ‘leave me alone’ but what he got was his buddy clicking his fingers and calling someone over.

“Hello, boys. Need a little amusement?”

Although the voice was a little rusty, it seemed strangely familiar. Pensive Parabellum turned, coming face-to-face with its owner’s fleshy, one-eyed stare. He looked up. Oh, it was the belly button of a tall, skinny brunette. Not only did she sound familiar, she looked a little familiar too. Or, maybe, it just was the alcohol haze filling his head.

“So, what’ll it be? A strip tease? Twerk? Or are you a lap dance man?”

And, as quick as you please, she turned her back and began making seductive waves with her exquisitely shaped buns. Pensive Parabellum stared dumbly as they swayed ever closer to his lap. Hey, was that dental floss between those two delectable mounds? Oh. No. She was wearing a G-string.

“Hot damn. I need to pee.”

Pensive Parabellum tried to get up. After a couple of aborted attempts and much bottom groping (purely for support purposes, of course!) he finally made it. The room erupted in cheers. This gargantuan effort had not only gotten him to his feet but had also moved his eyeline directly up the brunette’s spine to between her shoulder blades. What he saw there made his blood freeze.

An ugly, beaked skull with black wings.

“My Sophia!” he squeaked. “You would sell your body like a common whore?” He collapsed on the chair.

“Don’t grump, Grampy, I just wanted to buy you a little something for your wedding.” Sophia kissed his brow, adjusted her G-string and added, “Looks like I’m not the only one who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar, hmmm?” She walked off with a coquettish side glance and a playful jiggle of her cheeks.

Criminy, she was good!

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018