I ripped the pizza in half slowly, then tore off a section for our shaggy companion whose sides were heaving.

  “You’re gorgeous, aren’t you?” I asked Shikha, and she approached, eyes darting from Harley to the pizza. “Yeah, I bet turkey and cheddar are your things, aren’t they?” I picked the jalape?os off and tore a piece of pizza into bite-sized bits for the dog who’d been so helpful.

  I no longer had a sense of her in my mind. She just seemed like a regular 'ol dog. Odd. Shikha lapped up the pizza, then settled down next to us, chewing a stick.

  Harley was already holding a piece of pizza up to me, and I took a bite, “Ummmm, oh Har, I think yours is even better than the restaurant’s.”

  “It’s gotta be; that crust took all damn day. Oh my lord, it is heaven, isn’t it, Red?”

  I looked around us. Our backs were to the concrete wickets, and the sky was barely tinged with fading pink light. The Seattle skyline stretched before us across the water.

  “Heaven, yeah, Harley. The pizza. The park. The dog. The skyline.” I looked at my wife. “And you. Always you. You’re the sun; it’s in your face.”

  She laughed and held the pizza to my lips again. I took a bite.

  Her voice softened to a whisper, “No, Red, you look at me like that, and all I see is sunlight, starlight, moonlight, and beyond. Every minute, every hour, all I want is you.”

  The moment was interrupted by a whistle. Shikha’s ears perked up, and she jumped to her feet. In the distance, a tall, black man waved, and Shikha ran to him.

  We waved back, grateful, but never knowing who he was or where he came from, only that for a minute, I’d gotten to mentally merge with his dog and do the impossible.

  I looked down at my foam-covered body, wondering if I was gonna have a Cinderella moment, and all my magic would go poof at midnight.

  Harley’s head cocked to the side as she asked, “What exactly happened in the bathroom?”

  “The bathroom!” I said in horror. “What about the fucking kitchen, Harley? How did we have murder pizza for dinner tonight?”

  She doubled over, “It was the music! The music! I sang with the three tenors!” Arms waiving, face contorting, she sang out, “'Sta ‘nfront a te!’ Then a blue light shot from the speakers towards me.”

  “I ducked, and it flew over my head but struck the hot pizza cooling on the stove top. Next thing I knew, a giant, face-eating monster was coming for me! And with olives, for crying out loud! I hate pizza with olives!”

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “So, how was there sauce all over the kitchen, Har?”

  Groaning, Harley covered her face with her hands, “My pizza sauce! All that homemade goodness. I made two batches so I could freeze one for another time. In my panic, I tried to grab the pot, but the stupid murder pizza took the handle and spun the damn thing around the kitchen, spraying sauce everywhere! All that work, splattered all over the walls, godsdammit!”

  I collapsed in giggles, imagining Harley fending for her life with a vat of homemade marinara and a wooden spoon.

  “It’s not funny!” she whined, laughing and nearly crying at once. “Wait a second, how are you still covered in bubbles, and what the fuck, Muriel, how did you pick me up and run all the way to Gas Works?”

  “Well, whatever magic you and Pavarotti called outta hell, it must’ve been in that wine glass because the damn thing broke all over the bathroom floor where I managed to slip and fall to my death, then got resurrected by glass shards piercing my bare ass, and that turned me into a fucking-foaming-hand-soap princess!” I spat.

  Harley gave up trying to hold it together and collapsed on the grass, braying in laughter.

  And that moment is when it happened.

  Mission accomplished: Vanquish the murder pizza

  New Skill accessed: Will-Based Foaming Bubbles Control

  “Ohhhhhh shite, Harley! Up! Now!"

  “Wha—“ she broke off as I hauled her to her feet, already pulling her towards home.

  “Gotta get home! Don’t wanna be streaking naked through Seattle when the bubbles run out!” I called, booking it, but Harley couldn’t keep up ‘coz she was doubled over laughing.

  “You gonna suds all over the kitchen, Red? Solve the marinara mess with supernatural foaming bubbles?"

  I snorted a laugh and bent like I was gonna throw her over my shoulder again, and that got her moving.

  We made it home, and yes, we got the kitchen and bathroom tidied up right as rain.

  As for my superpowers, I spent some quality time in the shower with my wife figuring out how they worked and enjoying my birthday properly. That’s where I’ll end this story tonight.

  A good ending to an unconventional birthday.

  The end.

  For now.

  HC Merrin

  “Brilliant!” I told the screen in front of me.

  Paddy, love of my life and mother of my children, had told me to write a murder mystery to work out my bad mood. So I had. Happy wife, happy life, and all that. Well, if I was gonna do a thing, I wanted to do it with flair. Murder mysteries were boring.

  But a comedy with a side of LitRPG satire and sapphic romance? Pure genius.

  Not only did I have a short story to please my wife, but I had a teaser for Harley and Muriel’s fans. A way to say, “I’m back writing, here’s a little taste of Seattle for you. New book coming soon! Enjoy!”

  I nodded, and if I wanted to, I could always add more to Muriel and Harley’s LitRPG adventures; there was plenty of room for expansion.

  The story was perfect, and my good humor was restored, so I went to the kitchen to see what I could nosh on. There was a frozen pizza on the freezer shelf, but I gave that one a wide berth.

  Bong! went my pad, and I checked my messages. New one from my wife.

  Paddy: make a dinner reservation at Mario’s, 6:30 PM

  Uhh, did I really want Italian tonight? I chuckled at the screen and obeyed my wife.

  Let’s hope they aren’t playing “O Sole Mio,” I thought. “I never wanna hear that song again.”