Salt Shaken

It may not be nice to fool Mother Nature, but to be fair, she started it.

Once again, I'm the puny human Keeper stuck cleaning up the magical world. I'm Cleopatra O'Keefe, owner of the Florida bar directly on the line between the human and magical worlds. Oddities are the norm.

The fact Poseidon spends more time sashaying his speedo clad, exceptionally fine butt around my bar than he does managing his seas doesn't help. He's pissed off the entire mer race, who considers murderous rampages a reasonable response. Not helpful. Plus, Gaia decided that upending the balance of the entire freaking planet is a rational solution. My job, to combine the human and magical worlds, is a teetering mess.

Let's see, who else can jump into this mix? Hades? Perfect.

His grand scheme involves me rounding up Gaia before she blows the Earth sideways and tucking her into Tartarus to chill in the void for a few millennia. Some plan, right? My problem is, gods don't make requests. Ludicrous? Yes. Saying no? Not an option.

Did I mention it's Bike Week? I'm up to my cheeky shorts in bikers, booze, and shenanigans. I multitask like a boss, but this right here -- this stuff will kill me. I need a drink.