eCard by Alan Annand, writer and astrologer
Tag Archives: tequila
Scorpios at night …
7 Apr
I was digging a hole for a body the other night and I got to thinking, why does everyone seem to hate Scorpios? So I leaned on my shovel and asked my partner Sybil who was helping me dig, “Why does everyone hate us?”
“By us, you mean stone-cold killers?” she said.
“No, I mean Scorpios.”
“Oh, that again.”
We’d had this discussion before. By a twist of fate, we’d been thrown together seven years ago, having survived an attack of killer bees on a nature hike in Arizona. We’d both been stung dozens of times, and half our party had died of anaphylactic shock. But apparently we’d had good immune systems. After a couple of days in hospital, we were discharged.
We’d gone out for lunch and over drinks got to comparing life stories. Turns out we were both triple Scorpios – ascendant, sun and moon. Bad to the bone. We decided to buy a bottle of tequila, score some local weed and rent a motel. I could tell you the rest but that would just be pornographic.
“Seriously, why do they hate us?”
“From my point of view,” she said, “it’s because you never tell the truth. You’re sneaky. You’re always doing things behind my back.”
“Baby, I’m hurt. You know that’s not true.”
“Then you play the victim, just so you can manipulate me. You don’t play nice. You’re a sociopath.”
“Play nice? This coming from the Chameleon Queen?” I had to defend myself, because Scorpios never back down. “You blow hot and cold one minute to the next. You ask to be left alone, next thing you’re sexting some guy on the phone. I call you out, and you get all nasty with me.”
“You’re nosy. You’re always snooping around my business.”
“Monkey business isn’t a real occupation, except for you.”
“You’re sarcastic and mean.”
“I just tell the truth. Straight up. On the rocks, baby.”
“You have zero empathy for others. You could watch a person die and not lift a finger, unless it was to check their wallet or cop a feel.”
“I give everybody one chance, but one chance only. If you can’t stand on your own after I’ve helped you up, I’ve got no use for you.”
“Except when you want to jump my bones.”
“I swear, it’s never even my idea. I think you got some little voodoo doll of me in your drawers, you take it out and start jerking it off. Next thing I know I’m lapping tequila shots out of your navel.”
“C’mon, admit it. You’ve got sex on the brain. I look at you, I see a 24/7 woodie.”
“Maybe so, but it’s not just for you.”
“Like I said, sneaky and mean.” She brought her shovel to her shoulder and I took a moment to gauge the radius of the handle and how far I’d have to jump if she took a swing at me. The hole we’d dug was almost big enough for two.
“Now baby, you know I’m just kidding.”
“That’s not kidding, that’s being passive-aggressive.” She turned her eyes on me. “Now look here.”
“No.” I averted my gaze. “I don’t want to be hypnotized or X-rayed. There ought to be a law against your evil eye.”
“Huh. If I could really see through you, I’d get a glimpse of some reptile, all scaly and squinty-eyed from being underground so long he forgot how to be human.”
“I’ve got a right to my privacy.”
“You sleep in my bed, you have no rights and no secrets. You obey me. There are no safe words. You do not fuck with me unless invited.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And do not take a sarcastic tone with me.”
“Baby, I don’t want to fight. We’re just talking. I want to understand why they hate us so much.”
“You really don’t know?”
“Do you?”
Sybil put down her shovel and took off her sweater, revealing only a thin T-shirt beneath. Because it was a warm night and she’d been working the shovel hard, the T-shirt was wet and clung to her breasts like a moist cheesecloth over freshly-kneaded loaves of bread.
She spread her sweater on the ground a few feet from the hole. “Come here and I’ll show you.”
“Is this some kind of black magic thing, what with the full moon and a fresh corpse and all?”
“Shut up and get naked.”
A coyote or a wolf, something hungry, howled from not too far away. A chill went up my tailbone, but I didn’t run. Safety in numbers, even if we were only two. We were both triple Scorpios, after all, so we were practically a six-pack.
She shucked off her jeans, stretched out on her sweater and writhed like a snake in the moonlight. I joined her there among the pine needles and we made love like wild things, scaring off all the animals in the forest.
Maybe that’s why they love to hate us.
~~~~~~~~~
Alan Annand is a writer and astrologer with the moon in Scorpio. Find his New Age Noir series and other mystery novels at Amazon, Apple, Barnes&Noble, Kobo and Smashwords.
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