“Houston,” Sassy gasped out, looking paler than I’d ever seen her. “We have a problem.”

My laugh at her Apollo 13 reference completely confused her and I realized she hadn’t seen the movie. Sassy wasn’t making a clever joke and we clearly had a problem. Thankfully I knew the problem had nothing to do with my babies’ safety. They were in the kitchen with Mac and me, chowing down on chocolate chip pancakes. Henry was wearing more syrup than he’d ingested and Audrey had a big piece of pancake stuck to her chubby cheek. It was all kinds of awesome and adorable.

I’d taken the second guard shift with Roy and Marge. It had been wonderfully uneventful and my two cohorts had been unusually quiet and definitely still alive. I’d even gotten a few hours sleep and was ready to take on the new day—problems and all.

“What’s the problem?” I asked.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Sassy said looking pale and greenish now.

“Dude,” I snapped, getting a little nervous. “Just use English.”

“I think Profanican would be more appropriate,” she whispered, nodding at Henry and Audrey.

“I’m on it,” Mac said, clearly not wanting to hear Sassy’s personal profane problems. He scooped up our sticky children from their highchairs and headed out of the kitchen. “I’m gonna give these pancake monsters a bath and then we can make plans for the day. Sound good?”

“Yep,” I told him. “So?” I said to Sassy once we were alone.

“Sooo… I figured everyone was up and eating since I could hear all the laughter in the kitchen. Therefore, I felt it was safe to go borrow Marge’s hot pick Stella McCartney sweater.”

“You mean pilfer,” I corrected her.

“Yes. Pilfer,” she confirmed. “It looks much better on me anyway.”

Nodding, I waited.

“This is hard for me. Do you have a plastic bag? I might hurl while I relive this.”

Tossing her a garbage bag and a bottle of Windex just in case it might help, I backed away to the far side of the kitchen. If Sassy thought something was bad, it was probably horrific.

“They were in there,” she choked out on a whisper.

“Who was in where?” I demanded.

“My Rad and Marge—naked—covered in pink frosting and umm…”

“Sweet Goddess on a crotch rocket,” I gagged out. “Was there a Twister mat on the floor?”

“YES,” she shouted and grabbed the back of the chair for purchase. “How did you know that?”

“Call it a really unlucky educated guess,” I said, sliding down the wall and sitting on the floor. “Did they see you?”

“No,” Sassy said. “Well, not at first. At least not until I screamed and took a picture with Jeeves’s phone.”

“Dude, you did not take a picture of that.” I didn’t know whether laugh or scream—or both. “Why in the ever lovin’ hell would you want a record of Bermangoggleshitz and Cookie Witch getting jiggy?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, dropping down on the chair and putting her head between her knees. “It’s just so gross to see your Rad naked and covered in pink frosting while going at it with the woman who you wish was your real mother. It’s scarring.”

“Hence my question,” I repeated. “Why take the picture?”

“In case I need to convince them to see my way on matters.”

“You mean blackmail,” I corrected her.

She looked pensive for a moment and then shrugged. “Semantics. That’s a Japanese word.”

My best friend had so many screws loose I was surprised her head didn’t jingle when she walked. She was brave and clearly insane. She should also probably make an appointment with Roger for some therapy.

“This is certainly gonna be awkward,” I said with a laugh. “How are you going to play it?”

Sassy jumped to her feet and paced the kitchen. “Here’s what I think…”

Oh shit. Sassy and thinking always resulted in something alarming.

“I’ll take the first baby guarding shift with Jeeves and Mac. You go and train with Marge and Rad. If I stay away from them for at least three hours and thirty-two minutes, I can pretend like nothing unusual and gag worthy happened this morning. Or I could train with you guys and unintentionally conjure up three hundred Twister mats and then hurl repeatedly. Of course I’d bring a puke bucket because I’m polite like that. I gotta say it’s just wrong on every level to see your parental unit and potential gal pal play hide the salami—especially covered in pink frosting. Which, I would like to add, used to be my favorite icing. Now I’m stuck seeing my dad’s joystick every time I think of pink frosting.”

“And, now thanks to you, I will picture that as well,” I grumbled.

“You’re welcome.”

“I was being sarcastic,” I snapped as I stood up and began clearing the syrup-covered dishes.

“But you said thanks,” Sassy pointed out with her brow raised and lips pursed.

“I was speaking Latin.”

“Damn it,” Sassy grumbled, snapping her fingers and producing a thick notebook out of thin air. “Another farking language I don’t know.”

She scribbled something down in her notebook, swearing the entire time.

“What is that?” I asked.

“It’s my To-do list.”

“It’s a huge notebook,” I pointed out.

“I have a lot of stuff to do. Are you going to be okay without me at training? I mean, will you be able to make eye contact knowing that Rad was licking pink frosting off of Cookie Witch’s unmentionables?”

Goddess, I was so tempted to zap her mouth shut for a week or ten, but I couldn’t risk it. Imagining what my farked up magic could do to a female was enough for me to swallow my need to mute Sassy. But it wasn’t easy.

“Again, thanks to you, no.”

“Was that Latin again?” she inquired with her pencil poised above her notebook.

Heaving out a huge sigh, I let my head fall back on my shoulders. “Yes, that was Latin. Now I’d suggest you disappear. I hear the Sugary Twister Duo heading toward the kitchen.”

In a hot second, Sassy had disappeared in a flash of pink sparkles taking her To-do list with her. Closing my eyes, I tried to block out our entire conversation. It was going to be next to impossible not to give them shit—let alone make eye contact.

Whatever. Getting a grip on my dark magic was far more important than keeping my breakfast down.