Help! My Mom Wants To Take Over The World! Chapter 9

Clara's Rampage!

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"Did you enjoy your meal, Miss?" a server at a local Greek restaurant in Washington DC asked as he took Clara's plate off the table.

"Oh, certainly! Thank you," Clara replied to the sleek-looking young fellow with a thick black mane that was slicked back while she wiped her mouth with a napkin.

She picked up her glass of wine. "This is Pinot Noir, am I correct?" She nodded at her glass.

"Yes, correct, ma'am." The young man smiled as he deftly balanced four plates on his forearm: hers plus those of three other customers. "Is it okay?"

Clara nodded while taking a sip. "Yes, it's one of my favorites. But I never go to a Greek restaurant, so I was hoping to be served a Greek wine as well."

"Pinot Noir combines perfectly with Rabbit Stifado, ma'am."

"But it's a French wine." Clara eyed him intently. "Why did you deprive me of a full Greek experience by not recommending a Greek wine to pair with this Greek dish?"

"I, uhm…"

Clara guffawed as Christos' cheeks flushed an embarrassed shade of scarlet. "I'm just messing with ya, kid!" she said after seeing the boy squirm with discomfort. "It's okay. Really. Your recommendation was ace!" She took a hearty sip with a wink as if showcasing it.

The boy eased and gave a sheepish grin. He was about to walk off but stopped in his tracks when Clara fired a question.

"What's your name, boy?" Clara's eyes raked over the young man as she leaned back in her chair. She crossed one leg over the other, letting it slowly slide out from under her business skirt to reveal a luscious portion of her thigh before bringing the glass of wine to her lips. "You seem savvy. You work here to finance your study?"

"It's Christos, ma'am." He replied uneasily while doing his best not to ogle at Clara's legs. "And while I feel sincerely flattered by the compliment, I must say no. I'm actually sort of the owner of this restaurant at the moment, I'm afraid."

Clara arched an eyebrow.

He paused and heaved a deep sigh; "My father, the true owner…lies in the hospital while fighting an aggressive form of pancreatic cancer."

Clara's face took a severe form. "Ouch. Sorry for prying, kid."

"It's okay," Christos replied.

"What about your mom?" Clara asked.

"Ran off with some ham-actor who believed he was the next James Cagney when I was only four. Haven't seen her since."

"What about your brothers and sisters?"

"I'm an only child."

"Any aunts? Uncles? Other close friends or family members?" Clara asked.

Christos sighed. "It's just me and my Dad, ma'am."

"And now it's just you," Clara added while gazing around the vast restaurant, teeming with customers and chasing waiters who now fell under Christos's inexperienced management.

"And now it's just me," Christos repeated Clara's words with a sigh. An impatient-looking customer called for him from a table in the back, bellowing rudely through the hall.

"I've got to go, ma'am" he gave her a polite smile before turning away. Then he paused and then turned back. "Ma'am?"

Clara lifted her gaze in surprise, already deep in a sip of her wine.

Christos nervously cleared his throat. "You're… her, right?"

She stared at him silently for a moment before uttering a simple "I'm her."

He gave her a respectful nod before turning away.

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Strolling around on a square with her hands clasped upon her back, Clara walked up to a clattering fountain and parked her tight butt on its edge. Her hands ironed out the folds of her silken white office blouse when the laughter of the moping of a child grabbed her attention. Clara saw a boy of roughly eight years old trying to launch a kite into the air without much. She saw him frantically running with its string in hand, hoping it would go airborne.

There was barely any wind on the square, so it wasn't entirely surprising. Clara felt the need to aid him, so she pursed her lips and blew out a small puff with the same force a person needed to whistle. However, when someone like Clara did that, the result was a fair wind comparable to a fresh breeze that felt like force five according to the Beaufort Windscale. A chuckle vibrated Clara's lips as she saw citizens losing their hats and caps by this sudden gust of wind.

The boy, however, was content, though. He tittered wide-eyed, running around the square as his kite stayed airborne, dancing around in the wind created by Clara. Then the kite landed with a thud on the cobblestones when Clara ceased blowing. A few bystanders looked nervously at Clara, vaguely realizing she was the cause of the wind. She also noticed a few recognition looks from those who quickly scurried away.

Clara heeded them no attention. The effort to escape from the fate Clara had devised in her head was pointless anyway.

She beckoned the little boy to come to her. The boy gazed nervously at his father sitting on a nearby bench. The father made eye contact with Clara, and he, too, had a look of recognition. The father gave his son a hesitant nod of approval to approach her but kept watching the scene like a hawk.

"Hey there, little man!" Clara beamed while tousling his hair. "Whatcha you got there?"

"A kite," the boy replied softly, periodically stealing glances at his dad.

"Ohhh, that's a cool flying thingy thing, right?"

The boy nodded.

"Can you show it to me?" Clara asked.

The boy shook his head. "No wind." He held up his hand.

"Say," Clara hushed her voice and moved closer. "Wanna see something neat?"

The boy gave a hesitant nod.

"Watch closely to my hand." Clara held up a fist and extended her index finger. At the same time, the boy's kite took flight, dancing in a wind that wasn't there. "Pretty cool, right?" Clara grinned as the boy looked with great astonishment. "Wanna try?"

"I don't think I can," he said.

"Sure you can. Give me your hand." Before he knew it, the boy felt his arm being held by Clara's grip. "Now, clench it into a fist and shoot up your index finger like I did."

The boy looked disappointed when his kite kept lying motionless on the ground. "See, nothing is happening."

"Oh, on the contrary," Clara smiled. "Look behind you, kid. You're a natural."

Puzzled, the boy turned around and found himself mesmerized by a bus floating above an intersection ten meters in the air, along with a lorry and a cab soaring alongside it. Shrieks of amazement and fear traveled with the wind to their ears.

"You can also rotate them like this." Clara took hold of the boy's hand and turned it circularly. Shrieks of terror erupted from the vehicles when they were suddenly upside-down; a flock of passengers in the bus clung to the ceiling that had become the floor, screaming for help.

The boy swallowed, barely daring to look Clara in the eyes. "I-I think I want to go to my father now."

Fear sprung upon the boy's face as Clara held him tightly by the arm, making it impossible for him to leave. "But we're not done yet. Open your hand."

Fearful of what the scary woman might do to him if he refused, the boy meekly opened his hand. At the same time, a chorus of shrieks was heard around them, coming from seemingly every person in the city.

Clara chuckled wickedly as her eyes witnessed hundreds of vehicles soaring up in the sky.

"Now, kid, as a closing piece. Clench your hand into a fist again and behold a firework display like no other."

"I-I don't think I want to..." The boy said in a tiny voice.

"Do it!" Clara said, and the boy complied immediately. What followed was a sound filling the air that most people only heard after counting down to zero on News Years' Eve as every floating vehicle in the city exploded, burning up in flames.

The boy could pry himself free of Clara, who stood there watching the scene with a peal of maniacal laughter and ran for his father.

"And this is just the beginning, folks!" Clara announced to everyone who cared to listen to her amidst the turmoil. She placed her hands on her hips and demolished the laws of gravity as she soared up in a straight line into the air, pulling the attention of citizens as they looked up and pointed at her.

Clara stopped when soaring a few kilometers above the ground, the wind tearing through her hair. Peeking between her feet, Clara smiled at the toy city far beneath her, whose roads appeared to be ablaze. She witnessed several fire trucks vainly attempting to extinguish far too many blazes.

"Let's release them from their burden, shall we?" Clara said to no one. Her eyes lit up fiery red like raging embers.

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Meanwhile, thousands of kilometers away sat Stephanie chilling on a rock, leisurely eating an apple, after laying waste to a top-secret facility in the belly of a mountain that researched the depowering of supernatural individuals.

As she continued eating her snack in peaceful solitude in the idealistic surrounding of a forest while observing a sparrow pecking at the soil to capture a worm, Stephanie paused mid-chew when some sudden external stimuli vied for her attention. She took a gander at the bottle of water standing beside her lap and noticed ripples forming upon its surface, becoming more intense by the second. A prolific tremor was traveling through the ground beneath her.

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"There," Clara's eyes turned back to normal after bringing ruin to an entire city like an unforgiving God. "My 4th of July gift to you. A bit early, I know. May your independency prosper beneath my wrath, you fuckin con artists." she tittered at her own joke. Smoke and cinders hung in the air as Clara took one last gander at the smoldering crater beneath her, where moments ago lay a bustling capitol. Only a Greek restaurant and a hospital were left unscathed amidst the wasteland, protected by Clara's influence.

"You're welcome, Christos," Clara said and flew off.