The Bad Boys of Assjacket (Magic and Mayhem #9) - Robyn Peterman Page 0,1

weese have an outstandin’ idea, dollface,” I told my witch, making a last minute, split decision not to lick my nards. I’d already pressed my luck with the fart talk.

I’d come to the realization lately that cleansing my gangoolies during serious conversations didn’t end well. Of course, refraining from my harmless habit was ridiculous since ball-licking was a way of life for me and my boys. As cats and familiars to the second craziest and most powerful witch in existence, we had to look sharp. Shiny giblets were a top priority. Not to mention, glistening cojones appealed to the dames.

“Those words terrify me,” Zelda said, eyeing me warily. “The last outstanding idea you idiots had ended in my digging your three fat furry asses out of a hole. Literally.”

I shrugged my kitty shoulders and chuckled. “Dat was just a little misunderstandin’.”

Zelda scrubbed her hands over her mouth. I knew my witch was doing her best not to laugh. Made me love the red-headed, gorgeous, insane broad even more.

“You think that getting a visiting group of six violent groundhog Shifters wasted then shaving them and dying what was left of their fur to look like they were diseased skunks was a little misunderstanding?” she inquired. “Not to mention, they buried you asshats fifty feet underground for the little misunderstanding.”

“Dem groundhogs is buttdongs—tried to steal everything in Assjacket dat wasn’t nailed down. Weese did youse a favor,” I reminded her, trying to reason my way into forgiveness. Getting buried alive wasn’t what I’d call a good time, but we had a few plans to get the rat-bastard rodents back.

“Yes, the groundhogs are sticky-fingered buttdongs, and because of that, they’re christening the brand spanking new Assjacket pokey for the next month,” Zelda shot back with a laugh. “But you can’t shave Shifters when they’re passed out. It’s wrong.”

“So youse is sayin’ weese shoulda shaved dem when they was sober?” I asked, scooting a little closer to the cheesecake. “Dats an interesting thought, and weese will take it under consideration for next time.”

“Nope,” Zelda huffed, exasperated. “There will be no next time. Your shaving drunk-Shifter days are over. You feel me, Fat Bastard?”

“I hear your words, yet I don’t knows what they mean,” I replied, using one of the techniques my felonious comrade, Boba Fett, swore by. I batted my eyelashes at my witch then went for my balls by accident.

“Mouth off your yam bags unless you want me to zap your tiny marbles off your obese carcass,” Zelda warned. “And here’s an idea for you three idiots. Why don’t you try living on the right side of the law for a change?”

“Could youse define right side of the law?” I asked.

“Cease all criminal activity,” she shot back, grabbing her purse and walking to the front door. Sadly, she also grabbed the cheesecake.

“Could youse define all?” I queried.

“For the love of the Goddess in mom jeans,” Zelda groused with an eye roll. “Stop breaking the law. Find something legal or at least mostly legal that you three dummies enjoy or you’ll be spending the night with the thieving little groundhog shits in the slammer.”

“Could youse define lea…” I started only to be cut off by Zelda’s dangerously raised brow and sparking fingers.

“I dare you,” she said with a devious little grin pulling at her lips. “Go without committing a crime for one week, and I’ll buy you the big screen TV for the cat room that you’ve been begging for.”

There was no way on the Goddess’s green earth I was about to tell my witch we stole a big screen TV three days ago. Didn’t think that would go over too well at the moment.

“Youse have yourself a deal, sweet cheeks,” I said before I realized the words had come out of my mouth. But a dare was a dare. No self-respecting cat could resist a dare.

Fuck. The boys were gonna kill me.

“Anyhoo,” Zelda continued as she opened the front door. “I have to go pick up the twins from their playdate with my dad and Baba Yaga. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

She walked out of the front door. Closed it behind her. Opened it back up and peeked her head back inside. She caught me mid nard slurp.

“What was the outstanding idea you wanted to tell me about?” she asked, ignoring that I had my balls in my mouth.

“I forgot,” I lied, pretty sure she didn’t want to hear about our plan to spray paint the word bunghole down the middle