"And woe betide the creature who steps into the Devil's garden." ~ Irish Proverbs

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I watch the Irish Antichrist stomp out of the principal's office, where she slows her roll over to the Sleestak Queen for a little after action report. Irish gives the Sleestak Queen one of those creepy old fashioned air hugs. Then they hold each other at arm's length and start whispering something sinister, that makes them both skin smiles like serial killers.

Probably a promise to make plans to follow the Grateful Dead around next summer? You know, if they are both still alive and kicking? After all, evil never dies it just gets meaner over time. I only pick up the last of the thread as they wander over towards us, arm in arm in some strange march of sisterly solidarity.

"You could have just told Rupi what was what in private Irish." Mrs. St. Claire smiles sadly. "You didn't need to turn this into a war."

"What, and ruin my morning fun? Oh, I think not." Irish barks out what I think passes for a laugh. "Besides when have you ever known me to fight nice with racist sheethead scum, Patrice?"

"And what of Rupert?" Mrs. St. Claire nods back over her shoulder towards the closed office.

"Rupi's not stupid, he knows it's not personal on him. He already knew damn well where this was headed the moment he realized who was gonna be on the other side from me." Irish sniffs arrogantly. "Oh and Pat, you might just want to give that copy you made of May Belle's detention to Rupi now? Time to wipe the smile off of little sheet heads face."

"O' Irish, you old rabble-rouser, you'll never change a whit." Which I can only assume "Rabble-rouser" is ancient Raisin dialect for seriously super psycho.

"Yes well, let's just hope Rupi doesn't have to do this dance again with Aces." Irish nods at me and May. "The boy can take care of himself just fine it seems. But for some strange reason, he has a soft spot for the Grimm girl."

"Well, she is ..." Mrs. St. Claire sighs the obvious.

"No, I get the feeling it's something more than the obvious." Irish frowns down over the barricade at me, with May leaning into my shoulder. "We'll talk more when I get the kids home and I can get to the bottom of this nonsense."

"Irish, I hate to bring this up now." The Sleestak Queen sighs deeply. "But you can't take May Belle off school grounds again without her parent's permission."

"Oh? Yes, I suppose that makes sense on some level." Irish nods appreciatively. "You think Nancy in the Nurse's Office will have the Grimm parent's contact numbers?"

"On speed dial would be my best bet." Mrs. St. Claire rolls her reptilian eyes over.

"Well then, off we go to make that call." Irish pushes off to parts unknown. "Good to see you, Pat. Please give my best to Edgar and the kids. I'll see ya next Saturdays at Monthly Mahjong, if not sooner."

"Same to you and yours, Irish." Mrs. St. Claire chimes back sweetly. "And do try to have a nice day."

"Already going much better for me so far. Haven't had this much fun since forever." Irish stalks through low swinging saloon doors.

"So..." what the hell did you just do, Satan?  I glare back at the ancient Irish battleax.

"We're done here for now kids. The boys are gonna work out what happens next among themselves for a while. Then give us a call later and let me know of my victory." Irish shrugs off the irrelevance of what other people are thinking about her infernal glory. 

"In the meantime, you have two have the option of going back to class for the rest of the day. Or walking down to the Nurse's Office, and calling May Belle's mother or father? In order to explain to them that you must have eaten something bad and you have the gripes. At which point you can tell them that Darren ate the same thing. That I am already here and will be more than happy to take you to my house and feed you some chicken soup until you feel better."

"Ma'am?" May nods slowly absorbing this information. 

"Yes, May Belle?" Irish muses. "I suggest you call your father first, he seems slightly more amenable to my charms. That and he's probably still busy at work, so he might appreciate my assistance in this regard."

"Yes, Ma'am. But just in case he asks...what exactly are the gripes?" May tilts her head inquisitively.

"It's a cure-all woman thing that no man never wants to hear about, dear." Irish unveils her next horror story. "One that I'll be more than happy to explain that to you when we get inside the Nurse's Office."

"Yes Irish." May suddenly scowls intently. "But I don't want Darren going into the Nurse's Office. So can he just stay out in the hallway, please?"

"May Belle, trust me when I tell you, we all want the stray dog to stay in the hallway." She gives me a withering look that bespeaks a severe sharing of her "I told you so!" speech. "Can I assume that if you can operate that infernal machine in the garage, that you can drive a stick shift?"

"Yeah, no problemo." I eye her, to see what hell her next plan of action is dragging us down into.

"Here then, go move the jeep out of the driveway and pull it around in front of the back stairs." She drops me her green lucky rabbit foot keys. "You know, the same ones you used when you walked out of here less than an hour ago?"

I swear to the Sea, all I can think of at this moment is? "O thank the lucky stars! I will never drive with the Banshee again as long as I live!"

"Come on kids lets get a move on. We still have many miles to go yet, before we can rest our war-weary heads." Irish stomps off towards her next victim of the morning.

I help May to standing, and we wraith down the hall towards the Nurse's Office. Or maybe more accurately, in the wake of the Irish Antichrist's glorious return to Hell on the Hill. Dropping May off at the Nurse's Office, I can already hear Irish ordering around the poor nurse people, like she is large and in charge. So I leave May to her fate, and make a mad dash for the war machine. That Irish left so thoughtfully parked skewed in the driveway under the Tower steps. 

One short phone call later to Grimm father and Irish and May are navigating out the main entrance to the Tower stairs down towards the jeep. I am actually seriously afraid for May at the moment. Because if Irish navigates my girlfriend the way she drives, we will definitely be going to the hospital. That is if May is lucky enough to survive the fall? 

This last thought hits me like lighting. Because I think it's the first time I've ever referred to May as such in my head. Not by her name, nor her title as my dark goddess ...but as my girlfriend? It's a profoundly strange moment to realize that you own someone, and to be owned right back by them.

So I jump out of the jeep and charge up the second landing. Just in time to meet them descending down the doomed stairs, with nary an orc in sight. Apparently, even the damn orcs know better than to cross the Irish Antichrist? Especially now that she is taking her leave of the battlefield. I can't help but imagine that even the dreaded Tower of Doom looks a little relieved to see the last of the Irish Antichrist go away, in all her foul glory. 

"May, I'm here," I inform her. "Piggyback, please?"

"I think I can walk downstairs all by my lonesomeness, thank you very much," May smirks in the memory of our earlier escape from Hell.

"Didn't doubt that for a second. Still, time might be of the essence to make our escape?" I push my luck just a little.

"You're right, May Belle, he's not as dumb as he looks? So I suggest you take the ride, dear." Irish adds dryly. "You'd be surprised at how soon men wear out and stop offering."

So May reluctantly climbs on my back, and I start down the long flight of stairs, under the dark shadow of the Tower of Doom. Once I have May safely ensconced and belted into the back jeep jumper seat, Irish is somewhat resistantly into the passenger's seat. So without a word edgewise I jump in the drivers' side and fire up the powerful four-wheel drive engine, to start for home. I'm not even out of the parking lot before Irish begins to express her displeasure with my driving of "her girl" around.

"Who taught you how to drive a stick shift, boy?" She scowls and I can sense her growing displeasure.

"Old Guards at the beach. Four-wheel drives are the only thing that has the right tracking for the sand. Why?" Because even for all the rest of my Insanistani habits, I am actually a very safe driver, all things considered.

"Has anyone ever told you that you drive like a little old lady going to church on Sunday?" Irish savagely critiques my speed.

"Nope. Anyone ever told you that you drive like a blazing maniac?" I counter back evenly.

"Why yes, they have." Irish smiles proudly. "Aces insurance company and his heart doctor twice ...more or less."

"Twice is nice." I mutter back under my breath.

I can feel Irish impatience with me come in waves, as I drive five miles under the posted speed limit of 25 MPH down the street to Elm. Three minutes later, I roll onto the Nightmare on Elm Street. Which is a full two minutes and thirty-seven seconds longer than it took Irish to drive up the hill to Hell the first time. And I didn't even come to a complete stop at the entrance to our street, before making the turn on Elm.

I stop the jeep just short of the driveway, to find Aces standing on the edge of the grass. His hands on his hips, scowling down on the dual scar slashes on his once pristine front lawn, from Irish's recent burnout. As soon as we pull up Aces spins around all militarily to glare at the jeep. It's kind of crazy, but for a second I could swear he actually looks relieved to see me sitting behind the wheel.

Aces glare slowly recedes into a frowning head shake. Then he makes one of those weird raisin gestures by taps his finger to his nose once to Irish, who nods back. Whatever weird Raisin understanding has passed between them is completely lost in translation on me. But I suspect it has something to do with "What the hell did my lawn ever do to you to deserve this whit? And don't think for a second, that this whit isnt coming out of your allowance, young lady!".

When the Jeep is finally parked up safely on the driveway, I pull the handbrake and I let the engine die.

"Irish, care to explain?" Aces intones dryly, opening up her small swing door and politely offers the Antichrist a handout. Aces is old school like that, opening doors for girls and taking out the trash. Irish unbuckles her seat belt and slides sideways in her seat to look back at May.

"May Belle please say hello to Darren's grandfather, Augustus. But you can call him Aces." Irish orders unnecessarily.

"Hello, Aces." May beams happily up for the back.

"Well hello yourself, young miss." Ace chuckles along pleasantly. "And we are all out for a drive with Irish, are we?"

"Yeah, you could say that," I answer for May, before she gets stuck in talking time. 

"Irish is there something that you'd like to share on that subject?" Nodding over to the carved up lawn.

"The kids needed to get back to school in a hurry." Irish nods to the back seat where May is sitting stone still. "It was imperative."

"Ya don't say?" Which I have learned is Raisin slang for "No shit, Sherlock".

"Yes Aces, it seems that May Belle and Darren have had themselves quite a day so far. A rather long story involving one of our dear old friends, old sheethead GD's little boy wonder."

"What the hell do those sheets have to do with these two?" I swear I can see lighting flash in Aces eyes.

And if I didn't know any better, which at the moment I don't? I'd say that Aces actually just lost his old warrior poet zen stoic thing and turned up stormy looking for a fight to thunder down on. I get a glimpse of the sky warrior he must have been in his warplane days. When the old 747 Flying Tiger Death Squad bombed the shit out of Hiroshima Hitler. 

Yeah okay there, Mr. Violence doesn't solve anything.

"As a matter of fact, nothing much anymore." Irish laughs a little too harshly. "I'll tell you all about it, while I make some chicken noodle soup for the kids. So as not to be made a liar of."

"i promised May Belle's father on the phone, that I would feed her some chicken soup for her stomach. As she is not feeling well and had to leave school with me, don't cha know?" Irish bares her fangs back almost pleasantly.

"Oh boy." Aces sighs his super long "Why me?" sigh.

"Now if you'll kindly save the Grand Inquisition for just a moment, while I get these two sorted out." Irish turns on the charm. "Okay kids here's the deal. Seems that Aces and I have to talk through a couple of things regarding today's excitement? The Lucky Charm is out and needs to be washed anyways. Darren, may I assume you know where your grandfather keeps all the washing accouterments to get my good girl back into tip-top shape?"

"Yeah, you can assume stuff," I reply truthfully.

"So is it also safe to assume that you understand that you don't hose down the inside of my good green girl? But rather you wash the outside only?" Irish eyes me severely.

"Yeah, I've washed jeeps before in the Guards," I reply in the affirmative.

One of the things I did learned to do really well from Junior Lifeguards was how to wash the salt off of open-air vehicles. Scrubs always did the dirty work, and trust me it is not nearly as easy as it sounds.

"Excellent, and don't be afraid to scour those rims hard as you can. My girl likes to look her best for my monthly Mahjong meeting." Irish quickly turns her attention to her next victim.

"Now May Belle dear, you feel free to just do as you please. Don't be afraid to come in and eat, or lay down and take a nap if you like?" Irish's demonic smirk skins back as her angry green eyes slide over at me. "Or you may keep this miscreant company if you've a mind to? But never be shy about letting any of us know what you need, and when you need it. Are we clear, dear?"

"Yes, ma'am." May nods contritely.

"Once again May Belle, you start up with Ma'aming me, makes me keep wanting to look over my shoulder to see if my mother's standing behind me. Which quite frankly gives me the shivers, seeing that she been dead and gone on now for nearly three decades." Irish snorts. "That and we weren't exactly on the best of terms when she passed rather unpeaceably. Understood?"

Which I take 'unpeaceably" to mean that Irish might have had a heavy hand in her mothers demise. Either that or the wemon in our family had some sort of Sith satanic pact evil Highlander thing going on. Like "there can be only one Irish Antichrist alive at a time. One to hold the unholy power, the next to covet it for themselves."

"Yes ...Miss Irish?" May tentatively agrees that there maybe be an even meaner version of Irish ancestry buried near bye. Great Grandmother Zombie Irish is clearly bad news from everything I've heard so far.

"May Belle..." Irish sighs and rolls her eyes. "...now that we are all old friends and comrades? Let's just settle on Irish for the duration, shall we?"

"Yes, Irish." May sighs smiling.

"And you, boy." She snaps at me on the attack. "The jeeps not going to wash its self, now is it?"

"Naw not." I see her snapping and raise her some incomprehensible slanguage.

"Com'on Aces, I need a big stiff one." Irish chose to ignore the wager and starts stomping towards the house. "Cause boy-o-boy let me tell you, it has been one hell of a day so far. And it's not even noon yet."

As soon as the Raisins of Wrath are gone, May starts to giggle infectiously and blurts, "They're not actually gonna ...are they?"

"No, she meant a drink." I chortle along. "Yeah trust me, the first time I heard her say that whit? I totally got the wrong idea, too. The Raisins have their own ancient slanguage for stuff. A "big stiff one" actually means a very large glass of alcohol ...not Aces."

"Okay, good to know." May snickers.

"Trust me, you have no idea how creepy they can sound, without even trying." I sigh at the sad state of my home life.

"So I want to help too. What can I do?" May beams brightly.

"What can you do?" I laugh along with the insanity of the day. "Try more like what can't you do? Damn May, you actually got me and Irish on the same side of a fight? Before you came along, I wouldn't have ever even guessed that was even a remote possibility."

"Well, I do seem to have that effect on you? At least with the fighting and all." May smiles so sweetly it almost slices me down to the soul.

With that May learns to wash her first vehicle ...sort of? And by "sort of", I mean May still hasn't quite forgotten that I still need a shower. So she does her damnedest to see that I get one under the guise of "Watch out! Blind girl with the water hose!". And quite frankly for someone who cannot see? She has the uncanny ability to hit me with the water spray nearly every time. I finally relent even the pretext that this is anything other than fun for her now.

"Jeeps done. You want to help wash the boy now?" I laugh along with her new favorite game of spray the boy.

"Oooo, I do so like shower time." May giggles infectiously. "Is the sexy cool fun time kind?"

"That's not what I meant." I snort. "I meant, I'm already wet and it's warm enough out to just use the hose to wash off. Just let me grab my shower gear and trunks out of my guard go-bag in the garage and I'll be right back."

"Aw...your no fun." May moues back at me. 

I walk into the garage and pull my spare trunks off the drying line. A quick towel change later, I grab my gear and head back out. Where I am summarily hit full force with the hose in the face.

"Oopsie, mah bad," May smiles insincerely and gives the hose another blast in my general direction.