Yooohooo! I have arrived and I have apples!
A voice resembling an Ostrich being soundly ridden by a bear carried through the house.
I looked up from where I sat at the table in the garden and frowned. What the fuck was that? And apples? Who the fuck likes apples?
Not for the first time I thought how lucky visitors were that this wasn't Wisconsin and I wasn't sitting on my stoop licking the barrel of my AR-35 and dreaming of man-sized pigeons.
Oh that will be Olette! She's bringing apples from her orchard!
The Good Lady squawked with delight.
I stared at her, my mouth twisting upward in disgust.
Her fucking orchard? How middle class could you fucking get? We had two apple trees in my garden and you didn't see me going around threatening people with their fruits and boasting that I had an orchard.
What do you mean, her orchard? I thought she was a goth?
Everyone knew that goths couldn't abide fruit. Or sunlight.
Speaking of which is was sort of sunny today? It couldn't be Olette then, she was practically the Queen of the Damned when it came to sunlight.
There you are!
Beamed the Good Lady.
Fuck, it was Olette. She wafted in through our kitchen and out into the garden with a witchy swish. Her raven black hair had bits of orange and purple running through it and on top of her normal ridiculous funeral get up she wore a hat with a brim so wide I was tempted to buy some tacos from her.
And what in the name of black shit was that on her arm? A basket? Oh fuck, it was and it was chock full of apples too.
Didn't she get the memo? No one wants apples randomly turning up at their door.
Good afternoon Olette.
I said, forcing a smile.
And it was forced, I hadn't forgotten that time she had touched my shoulder.
Olette looked at me disapprovingly before hugging the Good Lady and passing her basket of apples over.
I thought we could make my famous apple cider cake!
She skrawked like a raven on a roof which had just spied an old person drop some ham.
Oh that would be fabby, I love that cake!
The Good Lady practically vibrated with apple joy.
And what about you, will you try my amazing apple cider cake?
Olette leered at me as if I were something small and rodent-like she could eat.
I am quite sure you know that I hate apples.
I replied loftily, turning back to my phone where I had been watching an endless scroll of YouTube shorts.
Yes, we all know you don't like apples but you haven't tasted mine...
As she spoke, the sun, which had been flirting with us all day went behind a massive black cloud. The decking became cold and dim and for the briefest of moments, I saw Olette exposed in her true hag-like form.
In my mind's eye, I saw myself tied to a black iron altar with a screeching Olette hovering above me on ragged leathery wings as she reached down to stuff apples into every part of me. Even the parts that are generally one-way.
Are you sure you won't try a bit, I don't want to make you...
Olette chuckled darkly and the Good Lady joined in.
I looked at them both in horror.
Nobody likes apples. This was evil pure and simple.
I closed my eyes and once more I saw Olette cackle madly as she jammed apples up my dark growler.
Well, maybe I will try a bit.