Donna Goes To Therapy
“Being a villain is hard work.” I explained to the half-decayed zombie sitting on a rubber sheet across from me. “I mean, there’s a LOT that goes into it. Monologues, years of study, pilates, isolation, secret charity work for the tax write-offs, but you know what the hardest part is?”
“Please… Let… Me… Die…” The voice was like wind in an abandoned library, dry, dusty, slightly mildewed.
“The LEATHER.” I kicked up a black-clad leg for emphasis, tossing an equally dark long boot across the room. I idly poked at a hole in my orange and green sock, the damn things wore through so fast. “I’m on my feet ALL DAY, running all over this freaking castle and I HAVE to wear leather because it’s “traditional”… Okay I understand it’s not just tradition, it’s practical. I trimmed the hogweed today and if I hadn’t been wearing leather pants my legs would be covered in blisters by now. But leather is so HOT and not breathable, which I get is the point, but still… I wish I could just wear a linen dress sometimes you know?”
“Please…”
“And don’t even get me STARTED on the WIG!” A scraggly long black wig joined the discarded boot on the floor. “I just feel like I’m having these standards of villainy pushed on me!”
Luxuriously scratching my short perfectly plain brown hair with short black nails I groaned in delight. I did many sinful things that day; took candy from a baby (giving a child that young a lollipop was arguably worse than stealing it), put in some much needed landscaping work into my evil garden, read the latest Villain Guidebook (my castle was an honorable mention for haunted places!), taught an entire classroom of middle-schoolers how to make moonshine and soaked a cast-iron skillet in soapy water.
I grinned. The skillet was still sitting on the counter.
“I work hard everyday! I haven’t taken a vacation in YEARS!” I paused, pondering that fact. Maybe it was time for a break. “Am I burning out? Is the quality of my work slipping?”
“Sweet… release…”
“I could take a vacation incognito… and wear whatever I wanted…” I tapped a finger against my lips, considering the idea. First things firI’d have to get a guard dog, something big and mean that wouldn’t mess with the serpent in the moat.
“Into… the light…”
“Obviously I’d have to wear a boatload of sunscreen. I can’t come home with a tan, the council would have a FIT.” The second boot joined the first and the wig.
I’d been planning to crash coronation party of Prince Asswipe of Kingdom Douchebag, I could just actually go to the party.
The more I thought about the idea, trying not to get my train of thought derailed by the whining corpse sitting across from me, the more I liked it. It would be daring, elaborate, insane and fun. As long as no one knew it was me, I’d be fine. I’d have to skip out of my shift at the food bank but I was going to fudge the hours with my accountant anyway.
Suddenly inspired, I snapped my fingers and the zombie slumped to ground, thick costume glasses sliding down his nose and taking most of the flesh with it. A grayish fluid seeped from the hole, it seemed as though his brain had finally liquified.
He’d been a terrible therapist in life and death hadn’t improved him much. When we started the month before he’d tried to convince me that cognitive behavioral therapy was the superior method right up until he realized he was dead and had a complete mental breakdown. Terrible therapist.
The growing puddle under him was getting dangerously close to the edge of the rubber sheet. If he leaked on my Persian rug I was going to dismember him, my grandmother had stolen that rug. It went with the theme of the room perfectly.
My desk chair was a throne my mother had stolen from the estate sale after the neighboring kingdom went into foreclosure. The desk was made of pillaged skeletons and buffed mahogany from a druid’s tree (it giggled when I wrote with a feather quill). The walls were draped with a collection of silks and tapestries depicting images of heroes being slain or—my personal favorite—the great Hero Galahad getting dumped right before prom. His tears caught the light from the massive fireplace and glittered.
“JENNY!!” I yelled and had the satisfaction of hearing a yelp and hurried footsteps.
“Yes your supreme nastiness?” The young woman poked her head into the room and wrinkled her nose.
“Dispose of Dr. Whatshisname. I’ve had a breakthrough and no longer require therapy.”
“It’s important to celebrate your victories, no matter how small your bitchiness.” She looked extremely put-out by the rotting creature. “Shall I light a scented candle? Maybe burn a bushel of sage?”
“Absolutely. You can feed him to Edgar, he’s on a fermented foods kick.” I waved at the window three stories above the moat.
Jenny pushed up her sleeves and delicately folded up the edges of the sheet, trapping the liquids inside. I’d stolen her from the royal magic academy several years before where she’d been their head housekeeper. I was still banned from the campus but it was worth it. I’d tripled her salary and gave her free room and board and she had made herself indispensable.
There was a distant splash as the corpse found its way into the moat followed by a delighted watery thrum from the serpent. Edgar loved therapy day.
“What’s for dinner?” I asked, slipping my feet into bunny slippers.
“Kale salad with sesame ginger dressing.” She carefully bundled up the rubber sheet in one hand and lit several candles scattered throughout the room with the other.
I groaned.
“Don’t start that! You were just complaining that your pants were too tight this morning.” She strode purposefully out of the room, scooping up my wig and boots on her way out.
I followed her, resisting the urge to pop the top button of my high-waisted leather pants, it would only prove her point. After the first year of her walking on eggshells, wary of my fearsome reputation, she’d realized how much fun it was to be “bad”. Our banter had gotten more irreverent and sassy through the years and recently she’d decided we were friends despite my protestations.
The hall was long, great for rollerblading, and appropriately dark and nefarious. I was going to stop at my bedroom to change into my after hours attire but decided against it, I had to put in at least some effort if I was going to get my vacation in order. First things first, I needed to sort out my wardrobe.
“I’m going out for a bit, we’ll have an extra seat at dinner.”
“Donna, the dining room seats twenty. We’ll have room.”
“That’s Mistress Belladonna to you knave.”
She rolled her eyes. “So we’re being formal at dinner?”
“Depends on how our guest takes his kidnapping. If he’s an arrogant S.O.B. then we’ll be bad guys.”
“We’re ALWAYS bad guys.”
“Oh, that reminds me, I’m going to miss my shift at the food bank this week.”
“Now that’s REALLY evil.”
I snorted and ducked into my bedroom, rummaging around the chest by the door until I found the large green gemstone I’d been looking for under a pair of socks and a stuffed troll that I fondly chucked onto the bed. The stone glowed gently when I picked it up and grew warm in my hand.
“You’re using the teleportation stone? You really should walk; it’d be good for your waistline.”
“Jenny there’s nothing wrong with my waistline, my pants just shrank a little bit.”
“The leather pants. Shrunk.” Her tone dripped with derision.
“Make something more impressive for dinner, like roast duck or cheeseburgers.”
“You are NOT getting cheeseburgers.”
“The duck will have to do then.” I grinned at her and tossed the stone in the air, snatching it on the descent. “And let’s go ahead and open the pinot noir.”
“If you cut back on the wine and fatty meats-“
“Or I’ll pick up cheeseburgers and beer on my way home.”
“… Duck and wine it is your supreme disagreeableness.”
“Thank you. I’ll be back shortly.”
“Shall I prepare a dungeon cell or a guest room?”
“We’ll put him in the suite next to the linen storage room.”
I squeezed the stone and was gone before she could retort.
