Home > A Fashionably Dead Christmas (Hot Damned #5)(12)

A Fashionably Dead Christmas (Hot Damned #5)(12)
Author: Robyn Peterman

“He say no, Mommy,” Samuel said.

“Of course he does,” I mumbled as I glared at the hairy shit machine.

“He say he lived in cage and terrible mans hit him with sticks and hurt him bad,” my boy translated.

Blobbityflonk nodded his large head sadly and visibly shuddered at the memory. My stomach clenched as I wondered if the beast was telling the truth. I was also curious how in the Hell my son understood him so easily, but my baby was a freakin’ wonder. Not much surprised me anymore.

Putting Samuel down, I walked over to Blobbityflonk and squatted in front of him. Damn it to Hell if he wasn’t cute in a hairy, smelly, baboon kind of way. He extended his arm and silently bade me to examine it.

“Fretogoogy daroopmlakreefa,” he whispered.

Thankfully, his actions made his unintelligible language make sense. He sounded like a baby Wookiee. Damn my love for Star Wars to Hell.

Angry, red, scabbed over welts lay beneath his fur. On closer inspection, I realized most of his body had heinous jagged scars all over it. This animal had been beaten within an inch of his life. What kind of assholes beat defenseless baboons?

“Motherhumpincrapcanoes,” I said as I took the foul animal into my arms and hugged him tight. “You can stay for Christmas, but no more breaking things. If you poop in the house, I will make you eat it. We have an enormous amount of underused toilets in the compound. You will use them instead. Furthermore, if you clog any of the toilets with your crap, I will use your head as a plunger. We clear?”

“Gahhhhwhompa,” he said with a grateful nod and then licked my face.

“And no more of that licking stuff,” I gagged out as I grabbed what used to be a t-shirt and mopped the slobber off my face. “Wait. Did you just say thank you?” I asked, shocked that I might have understood his gibberish. I did have a bizarre talent for languages, but baboon wasn’t exactly a language.

“Blahookah flonymassageggegee.” He nodded with delight.

“Um… I didn’t get that one, but if that statement included any swear words, I’ll wash your mouth out with soap,” I threatened.

“Flinky blowhoppas wasdacrump.” He slapped his hairy thighs and laughed like I was a professional comedian.

And the day got longer.

“Can he sleep with me?” Sammy asked softly.

I looked around the room and groaned. My son’s nursery was not habitable. The top floor of the mansion was a wreck too. The fire and subsequent storm which had doused the flames had rendered my suite completely useless. What the Hell were we going to do to sleep?

The compound was large, but most of the rooms were taken. I knew any Vampyre here would happily give their suite up for us, but I wasn’t going to make any of my people homeless on Christmas Eve.

Damn. We were a menagerie without a manger. Maybe I was taking this reenactment stuff a little too far.

Satan and Gigi had guest rooms, but they weren’t big enough to hold all of us comfortably. Leaving my grandma and uncle alone to their own devices was most definitely out of the question.

There was only one thing to do and no one was going to be happy about it.

“We’re going to have a slumber party by the Christmas tree,” I announced in my loudest outdoor voice, hoping that sheer volume would distract everyone from the horror of what I had just said.

Nope. No such luck.

“Fine, but I sleep naked,” Satan announced with his arms spread wide as if we should applaud this unsavory bit of info.

“Not tonight you don’t,” Ethan said as he ran his hands through his hair, then purposely banged his head against the doorframe.

“Are you sure about this, Astrid?” Mother Nature inquired with raised brows.

“Nope, not even a little bit, but it’s what we’re doing. That way I can keep my eye on everyone and with some luck my home might still be standing tomorrow.”

I scrounged around and tried to find some PJs for my boy that hadn’t been torn to shreds. I did find some only slightly holey Batman underoos. They’d have to do.

“Ethan, can you take Samuel and have cots delivered to the Great Room?” I asked as I tossed him the pathetic excuse for jammies.

He nodded and caught them. “Will do,” he replied as he hoisted our baby onto his broad shoulders.

“Me love slumber parties,” Samuel said as he clapped his hands happily.

Satan sighed heavily and took his mother by her hand. “On my birthday, everyone will have their own quarters. And the baboon will not be invited.”

On that note they exited, leaving me with said baboon and the Baby Demons. I plopped down in defeat amongst the disarray and put my head in my hands. This was not going at all like it was supposed to go. I’d planned it out so well and it was now blowing up in my face.

“Um… Mommmmmeeeey?” Abe asked as he hopped up onto my shoulder and patted my head lovingly.


“Me kind of hungry. Me was just thinking me might take a little trip to the zoooooooo and have snack,” he said with an evil glint in his eye.

Glancing over at the baboon with the scars and welts all over his body, I nodded silently.

“Just make sure you eat the right ones,” I told him.

“YAYAYAYAYAYAY,” they all squealed as the baboon’s eyes filled up again.

“Garummph flobuscka shopertgashub,” he whispered.

“Did he just say he likes to put underpants on his head?” I asked the Baby Demons.

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