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“My name was called out again in your favourite little town, are they turning their love and devotion to me now and have grown tired of your eighties crusty arse?” Fate called out as she walked to the swing set, it was the place they always met to discuss “things”.

“As if they would give me up as their favourite, they adore me so much more than they do you, and who are you calling crusty? You are just as old as me,” Baba Yaga answered back.

Instead of swinging, as was the norm, she was now hanging upside down on the climbing frame.

Tutu in place, but showing off the bottom half of the bright pink leotard she wore.

Her hair somehow remained in place, not one single strand moved from its back-combed style.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to gain a new perspective.”

“On what?”

“Life.”

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“Are you going through the menopause?”

“As if.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m su…”

“Right, what’s this now, your fourth? You only ever contemplate life when you are going through the change.”

“I’m a bloody goddess, how can I go through the change?” Baba Yaga dropped from the climbing frame, placed her hands on her tutued hips, and glared.

“You are a woman, alas it hits us all, even though we may be immortal,” Fate said solemnly. “It is a burden we all have to bear.”

Fate placed her hand over her heart and lifted her head to the sky. “My thoughts and prayers are with you and your vagina at this time.”

“Blessed be,” Baba Yaga also had her hand placed over her heart before they looked at each other.

“Wanna get drunk?” Fate asked.

“Do pirates have hairy balls?”

“Alrighty then.”

The two goddesses vanished in an explosion of glitter, not just the normal kind but that fine stuff that’s gets in all the cracks and never comes out.