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Part III
In the land of Mythica, a wife (even if widowed) enjoyed a whole package of privileges that might appeal to the Sultry Sisters:
First and foremost, she could not be executed for any crime, no matter how heinous, without her husband's consent. Even if she had murdered him, the authorities needed his say-so. In that case, it had to be determined by necromancy–an expensive, dangerous procedure which had killed more than one judge. As a result, a husband-killer could usually count on life–and a life-sentence gave a fay plenty of time to seduce her way out of prison. The no execution rule wouldn't protect the Sisters from private agents like Coyote; but you couldn't have everything, and they weren't too worried about the average fay hunter, anyway.
Furthermore, a widow automatically inherited all her husband's assets, even if she had killed him. (This rule was meant to give Mythican husbands a strong incentive to be nice to their wives. It usually worked.) It was well-known that the Acme Corporation had just awarded Coyote a substantial amount of stock in return for his many services. Even split seven ways, it was a handsome sum.
Finally, wives had a higher social status than any other females in Mythica. The only person a wife had to obey in everything was her husband. And if he was dead . . . .
"It's an interesting offer," said the fay. "Let me talk it over with the gals. By the way, my name is Sassy . . . Sassy Sultry."
"Charmed," said Coyote, and meant it. When she had withdrawn to the roof, he could once again stand up.
After some animated discussion, they all floated down from the roof (white-pantied, every one of them!) and came over to Coyote, their bows still drawn. They were virtually identical, and they all shared the same strange, overpowering magnetism. Coyote almost fainted. "Oh, sorry about that," said Sassy. "We can lower the volume." As she said this, he could suddenly breathe again, but the desire by no means disappeared.
"So let's get this straight," she said. "You're tired of living your lonely life. So you want to marry us, roll in the hay with us, and kick the bucket."
"That's about the size of it," said Coyote.
"I should warn you: we got such a case of the fay curse, that I doubt you'll make it through one of us, let alone seven."
"I'll just have to do my best."
"And it probably won't surprise you to hear that we trust you about as far as we can chuck you . . . no, not even that far. So if'n we marry you, your weddin' vows are goin' to have to be an especially strong kind of oath."
"I'll swear an oath to your Dark Master," said Coyote. When they heard this, the girls looked very impressed. "I'll bind myself as follows: to marry you all, be a good husband to you in every way, and to have sexual intercourse with as many of you as I can at the earliest opportunity. When I do, I won't wear a fay-foiler condom or any other protective device. I'm doing all this of my own free will; and, even if there's any doubt on that score, after I'm dead I will under no circumstances consent to your being executed for killing me, or for any other offense. May I be burned and blasted eternally if I go back on a single word of my oath. How's that sound?"
"Hallelujah!" said Sassy. "I think we're gonna get hitched!" She uttered a brief incantation, and the bows and arrows all disappeared. "Don't get any funny ideas, sweet cheeks. They'll be back in our hands in half a second if we need 'em. Now let's have some introductions: these are my sisters: Sally, Cindy, Sarah, Sukie, Sandra, and Suzie." Each fay curtsied like a little girl when her name was called; their leers, however, were anything but little-girlish. "What we need now," said Sassy, "is a preacher. We haven't killed Parson Brown yet, have we?"
"No, Sass," said Sukie, "we were going to do that next week."
"Good. Could two or three of you be dears, and go fetch him?" Sukie and Sallie went off toward Dry Gulch. About twenty minutes later, they returned with an elderly, very frightened-looking man.
"Parson Brown," said Sassy, "this here coyote wants to marry us."
"What . . . is he nuts?" said the preacher.
"Watch your mouth, old man! Apparently, he's tired o' livin', and he wants to go out with a bang. So naturally he picked us."
The preacher cast a pitying glance at Coyote. "I can understand you wantin' 'em, son. With the magic they got, every male does . . . . But this just ain't right. Have you considered counseling?"
"Please, Reverend," said Coyote, "for your own sake, do what I'm asking."
"Oh! Oh!" said Sassy. "Just a minute." She uttered another incantation, and suddenly all seven girls now sported veils. "Should we whip up wedding gowns to match?" she asked.
"What you've got on now is fine," said Coyote. He had decided he liked them in mini-dresses.
Parson Brown shook his head sadly and began. He had Coyote stand in front of him on his right. He had the seven brides stand to the left. In traditional Mythican fashion, he intoned: "Dearly beloved, we are all gathered here today in the sight of men and gods, to join this . . . coyote and these . . . supernatural females in wedlock. Coyote, are you prepared to make your vows?"
"Yes, I am," said Coyote.
"Then do so."
So Coyote recited his oath in exactly the way he had promised he would. When the preacher realized this was an oath sworn to the Dark Lord, he almost fainted. When he had recovered, he turned to Sassy and company and said:
"L-ladies, are you prepared to make your vows?"
"Huh?" said Sassy.
"Your vows. You have vows, too."
"We do? Golly, Parson, cut us some slack . . . we ain't never done this before. What's a lady usually say?"
"She vows to be a good wife in every way."
"OK, that sounds fine. I vow--to my Dark Master-- to be a good wife in every way." And Sally, Cindy, Sarah, Sukie, Sandra, and Suzie all echoed her.
"Very well," said the Parson. "I now pronounce you Coyote and wives. Sir, you may kiss the brides." And Coyote went to each girl, lifted her veil, and gave her a big slurp with his tongue. "I-I think I'm gonna cry!" said Cindy.
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