At that moment there was a loud knock at the door. "Who is it?" Mae yelled.
"The Salvation Army pickup, ma'am. Do you have any used household goods or furnishings you would like to donate to a worthy cause?"
Mae was frantic. She didn't know how to get rid of the driver without giving her and Diesel Dyke's relationship away, not to mention the fact they were both archcriminals. Finally her eyes came to rest on the Wander Woman planter. Now that she'd had time to reflect, she didn't much like it. Wander Woman as a wooden vacuum cleaner had been ridiculous enough; with a fern growing out of ass she was an embarrassment. Not that she'd tell Diesel Dyke that, though. It would only upset her.
"Can you wait a few minutes?" she yelled to the driver. Then, to Diesel Dyke, "Why don't you take the Miss Adventure statue to your workroom? I'm sure she'd make a good linen chest."
"Good idea," her buxom partner said. She tucked Miss Adventure under her arm and headed to the basement.
Once she was gone Mae quickly wheeled Wander Woman to the door. "Will you accept a planter?"
"Uh, sure," the driver said, not knowing what to make of the strange object he saw. It was of carved, polished ash wood, in the shape of a nude woman lying on the floor with her ass in the air. Except she had no ass; a large plant grew out of where her buttocks would have been. Her mouth was open wide in a startled "O" if it had been meant, like her buttocks, to accommodate something else. A diadem with a stylized "W" banded her finely carved, curly hair. Altogether very peculiar, but all he could do was sign the receipt and give it to the customer for tax deduction purposes.
"Oh, and take these too," Mae said, dumped a pair of semi-hemispherical wooden bookends in his arms. They were of the same wood as the planter... the three a matched set, perhaps?
Diesel's Dyke's excited contralto rumbled from the basement. "Oh, Mae! Come down here now. Wait'll you see what I made of..."
"In a minute," Mae yelled. "Thanks," she told the driver.
"Your donation is appreciated," the driver said, carrying the items to the truck. He placed Wander Woman next to an old bedframe and her asscheeks in a smaller box filled with odds and ends.
A few hours later Wander Woman found herself on sale for $15.99 at a local thrift store. Her asscheeks were nearby, pinioning a row of old Jackie Collins hardbacks. Never had she imagined Mae could defeat her so easily. Never had she imagined she could have been so embarrassingly transformed by Diesel Dyke's nipple rays and toolshop. But in truth public humiliation was the least of her worries. Tucked away in a neglected corner of a suburban thrift shop, it seemed her chances of recognition, and rescue, were very slight. If no one transformed her back she was doomed to spent the rest of her life as a tacky wooden planter. To add to her plight, her fern was dying from lack of water.
The next day...
Thu, 20-Dec-2001 14:58:07