“You idiot. They need to be bigger.”
Ricky pressed his ear against the door. What were the demons up to this time?
“Shut up, fang-face,” Kalila said. “When you can conjure, you can tell us how to do it.”
“I’m friends with bats,” Vic said. “If that’s not a credential, I don’t know what is.”
“It’s the feathers, Kalila,” Nevin said. “They’re lovely, but I'm afraid something doesn't look right.”
Curiosity got the better of him and Ricky opened the door. In the middle of the studio, near Vic’s microphone stand, stood a black and white spotted pig with a pair of tiny gray wings sprouting out of his back.
“What the hell?”
Kalila brushed her long red hair out of her face. “Oh, hi, Ricky. Maybe you can settle this.”
Ricky looked again at the pig. “Whatever it is, I have a feeling I don’t want to know.”
“It’s really quite simple,” Nevin said. “The man at the music store today said Hot Night, Cold Heart would hit platinum when pigs fly, so….”
“…it’s just a simple matter of conjuring,” Kalila finished for him. “But some people in this room,” she darted a hostile glance at Vic, “think we don’t know what we’re doing.”
“Those are pigeon wings,” Vic said. “Pigs aren’t aerodynamic. If you want to get that ridiculous creature off the ground, you need goose wings, or eagle wings – something powerful.”
“Uh, guys?” Ricky waved a hand for their attention. “'When pigs fly' is just a figure of speech. Airborne pigs aren’t going to get you a platinum record. I’m sorry.”
Nevin sighed in frustration and Kalila looked at Ricky through narrowed eyes. “Are you sure?”
“But…” she pondered. “What about publicity? If we used this flying pig to get into the news, wouldn't that be like a promo gimmick?”
Ricky had to admit he hadn’t considered such a possibility. Then again, there were a lot of things he never considered with this band. “I suppose it’s possible.”
Vic shook his head in disgust. “I’m telling you, those wings are too small. That swine will never get off the ground.”
The pig grunted in answer, and Ricky seized the moment. “Maybe instead of putting wings on a pig, you should rehearse.”
Kalila scowled and vanished the wings with a wave of her hand. “Fine, Ricky. Take all the fun out of it.”
“You’re the one who told me you wanted to become famous by following human rules.
“I’ve told you too many things.” She went to her guitar stand and picked up her Stratocaster. “At the rate we’re going, we really won’t get famous until pigs fly.”