Before I have time to ponder Aimee's family tree, Miracleman appears and curtly welcomes us into his study. I note that the fire is blazing purple and giving off an odor of sandlewood -- a man who appreciates style.

Miracleman obviously wants to talk to Aimee first, but she steps aside and wanders to the fire. Having completely forgotten my rehearsed pitch, I thrust a package of smoked turkey into Miracleman's hand. Do I imagine it, or does he relax just the tiniest bit?

"So what's so urgent I have to withdraw my ring of fire to deal with it?" he asks.

Um. I'm an inventor, part-time, just starting out really. (Cripes, I did not plan it this way). Anyway, I have these things you might be interested in.

"Things?" He looks very, very bored.

Yes. Look! I pull two small, powdery spheres from my satchel and fling them to the ground. They immediately begin to fizzle and grow. I realize that they look just like nine-foot-high gingerbread men, only with grimmer facial expressions. The newly-made monsters stand at attention.

"What do you call them," Miracleman asks.

Instagolem! They're for people who want to play with minions but can't be bothered with the care and maintenance. They're supremely strong, completely obedient, and they biodegrade within 24 hours. I got the idea from an episode of The Tick.

Miracleman seems definitely intrigued, and Aimee is pleased as well. "They're really quite cute. Clovis would love them."

I feel myself blushing.

They're really easy to make once you have the formula down - its a secret, of course. I thought they'd make good stocking stuffers, or party favours.

Achmed the Clever knows better than to interrupt me when I'm working, so it must be important.

"Acmed, I've got Legolas proving to Aragorn just how bendy he is, what's so important?"

He frowns. "Sitt, I thought you were working on that novel. The one that pays you? That allows you to pay me?"

"Don't worry, kid, in this town, people will pay for Legolas/Aragorn. What gives?"

"It's the wrong time of year for biblical plagues, but the sky's just gone dark."

I look at the light well, where there should be at least a few rays of winter sunlight. Nearly full dark. "Weather omens said clear all day, right?"

"Yes, sitt."

"Crap. Anything on the dimensional breach radar?"

"Murmurs from the hell regions."

"Double crap with crap sauce. I was going to go party tonight. Guess I'll be taking the sword with me to the bar. Oh, Achmed, better leave the windows unlocked, never know when certain sun-averse male acquaintences might need a place to hide."

Achmed smirked. He's cute when he smirks. "Male acquaintences? Is that what they call them this year?"

"Orgasm friend, boink buddy, lover, the guy who leaves wet towels on the hardwood floor. Now leave me alone, I want to get this finished sometime this year. But let me know if any more ill omens are spotted."

"Yes, sitt."

I make my way into the strip mall swallowed in some odd earthquake and home in on the master's lair located in an place marked "Sears". The master vampire naturally has her minions surround me and starts with the "do you know who you're dealing with...blah, blah, blah" stuff. One circle of fire later and I have one slightly singed master vampire working for me now. Or more specifically, working for the demon lord I summon to run my lair.

With the demon lord getting my lair properly set up with nasty traps, unpleasent creatures, demonic wards, and matching furniture in an evil forrest theme; I'm free to start working on vengence.

"Interesting...very interesting...do they need water?"

Evidently not. And, she assures me, they follow your orders very precisely.

"Yes," I say "that's sometimes the problem. Getting them to stop, I mean," I say to her puzzled glance. "You know, you tell a golem 'dig a hole' and the next thing you know you're getting a call from an outraged Australian because your golem just came up through his den floor.

"Nonetheless, I think I can help you. I mean...I don't sell things, but I know a person who does." I jot down JilliVoiceofReason's number and the address to the Goblin Market. "Tell her I sent you and said she should take a look. And would you mind if I took a couple of these? For study and whatnot?"

Now where to start with the vengence. Miracleman, obviously, but that's a long term project, gotta feel him out, wear him down with various tactics. Besides, he didn't send me off to the underworld last time I was here. Actually, I'm not sure who did it, but I was in a bar with a troll and a funny-looking aquatic bird. I ask the master vampire about it and she informs me that the bar is called "Milo's Place".

I summon up a half-dozen gremlins. The little green guys are more pesky than deadly, but they are fun to unleash on foes and awfully hard to get rid of. I order them to go to this "Milo's Place" and play as many practical jokes as they like. I watch them go bounding off on their task, giggling and fading in and out of visibility.

I'm in the middle of Aragorn expressing his appreciation to Legolas when my IM window pops up. NightOwl, stupid name for a vampire.

"Sears busted. Window open?"

Why am I sure that Sears did not get caught with illegally indentured demon servants again?

"Window open. No blood on the floor."

"Stop bitching, that was 2 mths ago."

"I've still got stains. Wipe your mouth."

"Not what you said last night."

Gods, always the comedian. "If you're coming over, be quiet. I'm working. And no, it's not about you."

"Spoil sport."

"I'll lock you in the closet again."

"Promise?"

I shut down the IM window. Better go tell Achmed to expect a guest.

That actually went better than expected. Completely stoked, I give Miracleman four Instagolem (TM) in various colours. I offer to buy Aimee lunch to celebrate, but she has unfinished business here. We promise to meet later. DX Machina is having a party tonight, and that's the place to be.

I should take care of business in Goblin Market anyway. That sounds like a good place to buy a New Year's Eve outfit, as well as meet JilliVoiceofReason.

"Give Clovis a pat for me!" Aimee calls as I leave. As I head out the door, Hector walks by carrying a turkey sandwich. He gives me a wink and a thumbs up. Awwwww.

I turn to Aimee, wary.

"Yes?"

If it's about that damn curse, I'll gladly take it off. The curse I mean! Not the...! Well, I mean...

I sigh and slump down in an overstuffed chair. "What can I...how can I...help you?"

The curse, yes. Please. You have no idea how thankful I've been for the simple fact that I wasn't wearing a thong at the time. I'd also like my powers back. I've had to drive everywhere for the past 15 years. That should about do it.

Oh. And I want my Carpenters LP collection, too.

Now, about finding me a house....

It's okay! You can do it. One more step. Come on. Just-- don't-- look down--

I open my eyes and fall, six hundred feet, fingers clutching helplessly at the rope ladder as the tropical birds scream and scream--

Huh.

I'm getting sensory input, but it's hard to piece things together. I seem to be horizontal. I finished falling, then? And the rope ladder is tangled all in my legs. Was it cut down? Was that why I fell? ... No, it's not the ladder, it's much too soft. Some kind of blanket. And there's this brightness hitting me directly in the eyes.

What's that, brain?

That's sunlight. You're awake.

Oh? That sounds nice.

No it isn't. You're on vacation. Go back to sleep.

But in my dreams, I keep *dying*!

You're terribly clumsy, aren't you?

I'm giving up on this conversation. After a moment I successfully determine which directions gravity favors as up and down, and I swing my legs out of the bed. My lamp is broken on the floor-- I think I must have knocked it off the table during an especially grisly dream death-- but otherwise the room is dusty and neat. I really must have been trying to sleep all vacation, wasn't I?

There are fiery letters scrolling along the west wall: What can Miracleman do for you today? They start to fade as soon as I'm finished reading them. Christ. Will the interdimensional wizards cease at nothing? Not even spam mail?

Take me off your mailing list, I direct at the question mark just before it disappears. Now. I find my bag on the floor, the only clean object in the room-- the auto-cleaning function I installed on the canvas cover last month seems to have really paid off-- and root around in it until I find the Dust-O-Matic (patent pending), one of my oldest and most useful toys. I set it to "kill" and push it off into the air.

It hovers for a few seconds, then starts snapping around. A nebula of dust is raised into the air. I cough, and shut my eyes, and when I open them again the DOM shudders and freezes in mid-stroke. It makes a terrible grinding sound, and flops to the floor.

Well, shit. It looks like I've got to replace it. I'm covered in grit, and my room is only half-cleaned, but it's not as though I was going to get any more sleep today.

I'll take a shower. Hopefully the bathroom isn't covered in mildew. And then out to find a replacement cleaning machine. Do they even make that catalogue any more? What was it called? Penny's Marvelous Mechanisms?