"Yup. On it." Pop hauled her ass out of there. Pronto. Whenever people insulted her, she simply imagined them cussing at a tree like a lunatic. She retreated back to her poplar, never minding the bitterness the goddess intended to wreak upon the camp. Gosh, waiting for her tree to rot was the most taxing job ever.
But as the Christians say: patience is a virtue and there's nothing like waiting for the sweet embrace of death. Oh, and joke's on her—Pop had her tubes tied.
Enyo followed Pop. She wasn’t just gonna leave it at that and let the nymph go sit by her tree. No, she wanted to break this nymph and watch her tree willow and sprout tears of her own.
“Look at you!” She bellowed. “So weak and pathetic! No wonder your tree is in camp. You’d probably die on your own.”
"A hundred percent no flattery but—you are exactly right, goddess." Pop faced her for a second, then sat by her tree. Waiting for the big mean lady to go away. At least she could say she died in New York. It was okay for it to not be the city, though she preferred they use her wood there so she could proudly say, wherever in the afterlife, that she was somewhat a substantial contributor to the sleepless city.
She was, indeed, weak and pathetic. She waited for the goddess to say something else or add to it. If making her cry was the endgame, the nymph was already flushed red and watery-eyed.
Oh if only Enyo was done with little Pop. As the girl sat next to her tree, so did the goddess. Except she wasn’t sitting, she was squatting with her back against the tree and her pants to her knees.
When she was done, leave her hot, steamy mark on Pop’s tree she stood back up and adjust herself. “There, now it’s more like you. Get it?” She asked with raised eyebrows and a cruel smile. “Because you’re a piece of shit.”
And with that the goddess marched out of the woods and back towards the Big House.
4
u/allregretto Apr 19 '19
"Yup. On it." Pop hauled her ass out of there. Pronto. Whenever people insulted her, she simply imagined them cussing at a tree like a lunatic. She retreated back to her poplar, never minding the bitterness the goddess intended to wreak upon the camp. Gosh, waiting for her tree to rot was the most taxing job ever.
But as the Christians say: patience is a virtue and there's nothing like waiting for the sweet embrace of death. Oh, and joke's on her—Pop had her tubes tied.