Lady of the Lorries

Title: Lady of the Lorries

Genre: Fantasy, Chick-Lit

Rating: G

Thoughts: I was thinking about my novel and contemplating the trend in paranormal subjects.  We have a lot of stuff out there about people being turned into a vampire or something – but what if someone was turned into a human?

——-

“I have to pee in a cup? I – the Lady of – “

“Yes, you have to pee in a cup.”

“But I am – “

“Please!”  I squeezed my eyes shut and stood in the doorway holding the cup to Her Lady Whatever.  “The last time you said your name – my car got incinerated into tiny bits.  I’d really like to not be submerged in toilet water.”

The sullen, dark haired girl, who had the worst superiority complex I’d ever seen, took the cup and slammed the door shut.  With a heavy sigh I slumped against the wall and waited.  Her Goddesship would probably have to figure out how to pee in the cup; peeing in and of its self was an adventure I don’t want to remember.  A week and at least now things had stopped being destroyed whenever Lorrie, as I’d named her, started referring to herself in the third person with all sorts of strange titles.  I swear one of them was that she was the Lady of the Lorries – which on this side of the ocean are MacTrucks.

“Done yet?”

There was angry words I didn’t understand and the sound of water.  A few minutes later we were out of there.

“This is undignified!”  She wailed, throwing her arms up in the air.

“What are you talking about?”  I only ever understood half of what she said.

“Urinating in a goblet!”

I just looked at her, hands shoved in my pockets.  We were walking since I no longer had a car.  “Look, do you want to get this whole mess over with?”

“I want to fulfill my challenge!  I want to show that miserable – “

“No names please, I like having the sidewalk under me – not on me.”  Yes, again speaking from experience.

“I want to show – him – that I can live as a mortal!  A human!”  She continued to talk and make a lot of noise and so forth.  Two weeks ago I’d listened intently to every word she’d said.  Heck, after you see a car incinerated from thin air you sort of start believing things you wouldn’t otherwise, but even awe wears off after a while.  Whatever she was, or wasn’t at the moment, I just wanted her little quest done with so she’d leave me alone.

“Okay, so ,” I just interrupted her.  I had no idea what she was jabbering on about but at this point I didn’t care anymore.  “lets run down the list of what you need to do.  You need to get a home.”

“Renting from you.”  She pointed a finger at the sky triumphantly.  She was paying me in some odd coin I couldn’t use, but it meant she was paying me and therefore she’d completed one thing.

“You need a job.”  That had been the hardest thing possible.  Finding someone who would hire a loony lady like her was, well, beyond difficult.

“Bah! Working! It’s the most degrading thing,” she wailed, actually producing tears.  Her tears had a nasty habit of turning into butterflies or dragonflies or something.

“Well your pee test is done, you can start work in a few days.”

“And when I do, I will be victorious!”  She held her arms up like someone had just scored a touchdown.  Two black guys in a doorway looked at her like she was crazy, which she was.

“Yup.  Total victory dance.”

One week.  One week of the Goddess of Gab laying on my couch, eating puffy junk food, and watching soap operas.  I thought I would go crazy.  If I had to hear about how one more soap stars abs were not as good as – his – who was the guy we couldn’t name because then my apartment would burst into flames, and I was rather attached to my apartment, thank you very much.  I came home from my lovely time spent in a cubicle to tend to her needs.

“Lorrie Lady,” I pushed open the door to the apartment, shouting over the evening news.  “You start work tomorrow!”

“Victory is in my grasp!”

“Um, keep in mind you have to get a paycheck.”  I sat down between her and the tv, earning me a very angry look.  “Pay attention.  You have to keep the job for two weeks so you can get a paycheck, and then this is all over.  But you have to keep your job – for two weeks.  You have to listen to someone tell you to do things and you have to do it and pretend you’re like me.”

She didn’t like hearing this, but a lot of things were going on that she just didn’t love.  Like cooking.  I made her learn how to cook when she demanded I become a better cook.

The next morning it was like I’d suddenly gained a child.  I had to get her up, get her dressed, feed her and get everything ready.  As a mail room clerk, I was hoping she wouldn’t have to be around too many people.

“Come on, lets get going.”  Again, we had to walk to the building.  At least she was in my building, if something really bad happened I could hustle her out.  If only I knew that day was the first of 365 days of Lorrie.