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“I said let me think.” All the emotion has left my voice, too. What’s next? I’m not going to lose my tail, am I?

“I didn’t mean it when I said you were bad,” I say down to it. Without inflection, it sounds creepy. Maybe talking out loud in front of the wifey should come to a halt for a bit. Just until she’s wooed. Can you woo silently?

“The three of you have one night here, then you need to get out,” he continues talking but is looking at me with a frown.

“Why one night?” King asks, all suspicious-like.

“You’re getting a head start,” I reply.

“You leave too,” he points one clawed finger at me. It isn’t a cat claw; no curve to it. It’s more like a letter opener attached to the end of his finger. He's an off-brand nightmare haunter. Maybe he was sent to one of those consignment shops, and Bae picked him up there out of pity.

Oh no. My wifey isn’t just not evil. She’snice.

WHAT DO I DO WITH THAT?????

“Are you listening?” He growls in his mini chihuahua voice. Really, she’s practically benevolent for giving this voodoo pup a chance at a second life.

Oh no, oh no. That means people could take advantage! She needs me! I can fix this. I can. I just need a plan. I can have a plan. Of course, I can. What am I good at?

“He’s gone, let it go,” King says with disdain. How dare he be such a villain! Just for that, I smack him on the back of the head. Concussions don’t count as killing.

His head does a satisfying snap forward, and he growls low in his chest.

That’s what happened to her! Someone took advantage of my newly shiny, innocent wifey and made her hardcore. She needs me to keep them away so she can keep fighting off the Goddess. I can do that. I just need to find out who, make a list, check it a few times, play tic-tac-toe, wait, what was the first part again?

“Find out who,” Ben says calmly.

What a good doggo. And a mind reader, too! His voodoo never ceases to surprise me.

“You’re actually talking out loud,” His lip quirks up in a semi-smile.

How come he gets to do that, and I can’t? Smiles should be free, and I now have to pay tax? This reality sucks! I’m not pacing? I should be moving around! Why am I standing still?

“Is this common?” Ben asks King. He shouldn’t talk to the heart ripper. He’s aheart ripper. I’m not going to allow such a bad influence around our pet.

“Youare the heart ripper, apparently,” King replies as they watch me. “Iris wanted me to give it to you after all.”

One second, I’m standing still, and then I’m moving.Finally!

My tail listens to me for once and slides under the bottom of King’s chair, lifting him above the table and pitching him across the room.

No one touches my wifey’s heart. She’s a good guy now. Good girl? Good hermaphrodite, I don’t care! That heart is now a treasure chest to plunder for goodies in a romantic way, not a ripping way. It’smine!You can’t have my booty. Am I yelling?

The chair breaks as he lands on his face, and I’m in front of him before he can take a breath, punting him in the face hard enough that he flips up and onto his back sans chair base. His legs and arms have sticks attached, but that’s ok. The trend won’t have a chance to catch on when he’s dead.

I raise my tail like a mighty anvil and bring it down onto his chest with enough force to entrench his carcass into the dirt.

Or I was supposed to.

Before I can make contact with the villain’s chest, the dog is there, arms braced in an X shape as he crouches over our nemesis. It’s too late to halt my swing, but I try to pull back anyway. Only monsters try to pulverize their pets.

Hefting back as hard as I can, the doggo’s arms take the brunt of the force meant to annihilate our foe. His eyes widen as the force bends his arms, snapping them and forcing him into a deeper crouch until he’s sitting on King’s chest. His forearms rest limply on his forehead, elbows further down on his chest from the clean breaks. His eyes turn to me, doing their voodoo despite his surprise.

I pull the tail back. I need to get our dog to the vet. That’s not natural. I don’t know CPR.

He stands slowly and drops his useless arms, shaking them until the dirt/smoke/stuff rights all his bones and muscles.

Good, I don’t know if we can afford the bills at the vet’s place. They charge an arm and a leg. Or maybe they’ll just take two arms. I would have made it work.