By: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

“I’ve already alerted the Uchben army; you will not get away with this,” Máax warned.

“Ha! You think we didn’t expect that?” Roberto had seen to it that nothing, nothing would get in the way of this plan. In fact, Cimil had to hand it to him; Roberto was more impressive than the new unicorn tat on her bum. “Why do you think we rounded up the entire vampire army for this occasion? They’re right outside.”

“You lie,” Máax said. “The vampire army is on mandatory furlough at Euro Disney. I can’t believe I just said that. Sounds so fucking ridiculous.”

But it was true. On both counts. In accordance with ancient law, all vampires had been sent away on an obligatory, one-year vacation in celebration of the recent extermination of all evil vampires. Obviously, they chose the happiest place on earth for this vacation. After thousands of years battling evil, who wouldn’t? Of course, no one knew that Roberto had made up this ridiculous “ancient” law in an effort to gather them up in one place without rousing suspicion, only to redeploy them here for today’s special event.

Cimil gloated. “What can I say? Roberto’s the man. And by man, I mean he’s really awesome. ’Cause he’s not a man, but a vampire—my vampire. Did I tell you how he rocks my world? Did I? Huh? Huh? Hu—”

Roberto hit the floor with a thud. He clawed at his neck, gasping for air.

“Máax! No! Let him go!” Cimil wailed. “Dammit, you overly spunky, nudist deity! Let me explain.”

Roberto grunted when something punched his nose. Máax’s fist? Blood trickled from Roberto’s face, and he winced in pain.

“You have exactly three seconds, Cimil, or I will remove his head,” Máax roared.

“Wait!” Cimil pleaded. “How did we go from pinkies to heads? You skipped arms and kidneys. What about earlobes?”

“Speak, you batshit crazy wench!”

Roberto’s vampire soldiers gathered around, but Cimil waved them back. They knew to obey her, no matter what, despite who wore the kingly britches.

“All right, but you’re not going to like this.” She cracked her knuckles. “Truth is, in about seven months, the gods destroy the planet. We get into some war with each other. I have done everything possible to change course, but I failed. Miserably. Locking us up is the only way to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Máax released Roberto, and her beloved vampire sat up rubbing his neck, grumbling profanities in his native Egyptian tongue.

“This must be some sort of mistake,” Máax said.

I don’t make mistakes.

Yes, you do. Just this morning you lit your cell on fire while trying to make a grilled cheese with a flamethrower.

Fine… guilty as charged.

“Brother,” she said, “I’ve been dealing with end-of-the-world crappity doo for thousands of years, and I know when a dead end has been hit. The gods must be jailed until things are set right again.”

A long stretch of silence didn’t fill the air. Because silence can’t fill the air, now can it? That would be weird. Like saying—

Cimil! Focus. Get Máax on his way. He has work to do. “Look at me, Máax,” Cimil said. “You’re the God of Truth. You can smell a lie from a mile away.”

Another long, silent stretch.

“Truthfully,” Máax grumbled, “I find it difficult to know when you are telling the truth anymore. You’re so full of shit, even your aura is brown.”

Damn. He can see that? “That’s because I’ve been lying for so long, lies layered up layers of lies, that even when I tell the truth, I’m not really sure I am.” She shrugged. “Makes life kinda fun! Dontcha think?”


Such a stick-in-the-godly-mud. “Okay, okay. I swear to you, on Roberto’s life—”

“Cimiiil? Do not tempt fate in such a manner,” Roberto objected.

Fate? Pfff… Tempt her all you like. Ain’t gonna make a sea turtle’s ass of a difference.

“Fine,” Cimil grumbled. “I swear on my own life that this time I’m telling the tru—”