Hold My Bitch the Good Witch* nodded thoughtfully as she placed the kitchen broom on the floor. "There you go, Hepatitis Seeing Eye Dog, now you can help set trail." Hep C/D sniffed the broom, which was hovering two inches above the linoleum. Lifting her tail, she farted out a large, prominent, perfectly shaped flour arrow in the middle of the kitchen. Before Hold My Bitch could grab her, she hopped on the broom and flew out the kitchen door.
"Curses!" shouted Hold My Bitch, rushing to the kitchen cabinets, only to discover five mostly empty bags of flour.
"Whatever is the matter?" asked Slap A Bag of Dickz, walking in while eating a danish.
"Your dog has eaten all of the flour and chalk and left! Now how shall we set trail?" Without waiting for an answer, Hold My Bitch grabbed a key from the counter and went over to the armoire in the living room. Pulling out an ancient wooden box, she worked the key into the lock.
"Not your family's Blue Chalk!" sputtered Slap A Bag of Dickz. "I thought it was only for the most dire of emergencies! Who knows what it will do?"
"This is an emergency! Hand Pump will set a pox upon us if we don't get moving." Spurred by this thought, together they grabbed their things and rushed out the door.
Standing outside the BART station, Ska-Skank peered into the sky. 'Huh,' she thought to herself, 'I didn't think the new guy had the balls to lace the brownies for the company potluck.' Today was a good day for Uber.
Growing smaller in the distance, a dog on a broomstick barked happily as she flew along the tracks, zooming into the tunnel in pursuit of the departing train.
"It's colder than a witch's tit out there," remarked Now I Know My STDs, sipping a beer inside Glen Park Station.
"How would you know?" asked Backside Banger. Static flashed across the television screen hanging above them, and they both looked up to see Just Doesn't Get It banging on the glass inside the screen. "That's odd."
"He's a perfect fit." She swallowed the last of her drink."Come on, it's time to go."
"Fair is foul and foul is fair," said Hand Pump. "Hover through the fog and filthy air."
"What does that mean?" asked mmPeter.
"It means good riddance, and have fun finding the beer check."
"What the fuck is going on?" Primal Vagina put her hands on her hips, staring at the circle, blob of flour, and the quiver of arrows on the sidewalk. Everyone milled around like ants.
"Since we're all just standing around, who wants to buy a Silipint?" asked Masterbaster.
"I'm so hot," panted Miss Delivery, "I'm so... soooo hot. Oww!" He shouted as torrents of water splashed down over his head. "I'm meeeellllllttttiiinggg. What a world, what a world." All that was left was a small puddle on the ground.
Weiner I Am put down the jug and edged away. "Um, was that supposed to happen?" He asked to no one in particular. "I was just trying to help. Jeez." He sprinted away.
"Cheaters never prosper," opined The Blown Ranger, running after him, along with the rest of the pack.
"Hey!" Shouted the puddle. "It wasn't like I stole it." It started to dribble downhill slowly back towards the bar. "Hope they don't card me," it muttered.
Fuck Buddy kicked her way out of the mass of vines entangling her legs. "This is worse than the Marin Hash!" She groused. "Are we even still in San Francisco?" She looked up. Mt. Sutro loomed far in the distance, in line with the illuminated Golden Gate Bridge over the dark bay waters. "Guess not." A waving vine slapped her on the ass. "Hey mister, I'm not that kind of a lady. You have to at least buy me dinner first."
“My prince, my prince,” cried Just Ron. “Hey handsome, how about a kiss?”
Wrinklepecker puckered his mouth up and closed his eyes. He had been searching all his life for his True Love, and he wondered if this could be his chance. A second, then two passed. Wrinklepecker frowned. He had expected his first kiss to feel more earth-shattering. He opened his eyes.
"Hey handsome," Just Ron batted his lashes at The Perfect Woman. Without hesitation, The Perfect Woman leaned in for a kiss.
A small green frog hopped away. The Perfect Woman shrugged. "No one's ever done that before."
"Cocktease," pouted Wrinklepecker.
Just Kerry poked Just Angela in the arm, mid-stride. “Hey, I think that guy needs some help.” They slowed, watching the hunched figure sitting on the sidewalk. “Are you okay, sir?” She got no reply.
Just Kerry pulled out her iPhone. “Hi, SFPD?” Lowering her phone for a second, she asked, “Does anyone know where we are? Hey guys, where did you all go?”
An empty sidewalk confronted her. Where the man had been before, there was just a damp spot.
“My child, it seems you would dare to stop for an old man,” croaked a voice from behind.
Just Kerry spun around. “Who are you?” she asked the old crone, who was leaning on a twisted walking stick.
“Never you mind, my dearie, never you mind. For your misdeed--”
“Misdeed!? I was trying to help!”
“Yes, well, I was perfectly fine. Had a nice buzz going. Now you’ve done it!” The crone seemed to grow taller, and the stick began to glow at the top.
“For the error of your ways, you shall be cursed to… a long life! And lots of children!” The light grew brighter and brighter.
"That... doesn't sound so bad."
"Not in this economy!" laughed the witch. The light blinked out.
Just Kerry blinked, letting her eyes adjust to the dark. She brought the phone up to her ear. “Nevermind, he was just a witch. There’s no emergency anymore.”
“We’ll send someone for you right away, ma’am.”
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall," chanted MUG. "Who's the fairest of them all?"
"You rang?" Hand Pump appeared in a plume of fog, with Muff Daddy crowding in for a look behind him.
"Where the fuck is the beer?" Chorused the group that had grown behind her.
"Look deep within yourselves, and you will find that the beer was inside you all along," Hand Pump droned ominously. "Beware the turkey eagle split."
"It's at Dorothy Erskine Park," yelled Muff Daddy.
They all stared at the T and E on the ground. No one moved. Pushing through to the front of the group, Titty Boo Boo yelled, "What's the matter with you guys?"
"Hand Pump said..." Cockagami started.
"Nevermind, I'll just be over here... Winning the hash!" screeched Titty Boo Boo maniacally, darting forward. A flash of light, a puff of smoke, and in his place was a large, luxuriously feathered turkey. "Now that's just downright racist," said the turkey.
"Come on, I know another way." Cockagami led the group downhill.
"Fuck it, I'm still winning the hash," gobbled the turkey. "I'm not drunk enough for this."
Back at the start, Mary Tyler Whore was watching Dickweed and Just Dylan making out under the tree. “I’ll give them a 6 out of 10,” she remarked to Cumdog Millionaire and Cunniwingus, who were standing next to her. “There’s something to be said about raw enthusiasm.”
Just Dylan detached himself to go back to the keg.
“Oh my god, he wasn’t like that before,” whispered Cunniwingus.
“Does this mean Dickweed’s beard is… contagious?” asked Cumdog Millionaire.
“I guess we should find out,” decided Mary Tyler Whore.
“I think it's about time for you to pour down downs," Hand Pump said to the two hares who we're standing to the side of the crowd. "Reduced fat Oreos?!?" Someone cried from amongst the group.
"We are in deep shit," muttered Slap A Bag of Dickz.
"I know, I know," said Hold My Bitch, rummaging in her bag. "Here, this might work." She pulled out a can of Country Time Lemonade.
"Your family's Country Time Lemonade?" whispered Slap A Bag of Dickz, shocked. "I thought it was only for the Apocalypse."
They looked around. Just Ron was hopping from bag to bag of orange food, with Titty Boo Boo pecking at anything that had fallen to the ground. Under the keg, a slowly growing puddle sopped up the Racer 5 dripping down from the tap. Locusts chirped in the background.
“Lemonade?” cried out Do Her Well, attempting to stupervise. “Not on MY watch!” She stood there until they had dumped all the non-alcoholic liquid on the ground.
“Shit, what do we do now?” asked Hold My Bitch. “We can’t just leave them like this.”
“Hash hush!" yelled Do Her Well.
"Gobble gobble," said Titty Boo Boo. "Good Shit Lollicock, what are you doing?"
"I can't get my hands off of this tight ass!" Good Shit stumbled forward, dragging Massive Cock Check up with him. "Somebody help me." I'm Drunk grabbed one end of the twosome while 2xWhore grabbed the other. As hard as they twisted and pulled, nothing could loosen Good Shit's grip. Spinning around in a circle, Good Shit's feet found a familiar rhythm.
Da da-da-da da-da-da da-da
Da da-da-da da-da-da da-da
Da da-da-da da-da-da da-da
Da da-da-da da-da-da da- Ole!
Stomping in time, he burst three of the lemonade cans lying on the ground. The sugary potion sprayed forth, drenching the crowd. Titty Boo Boo squawked and coughed up a feather from his now-human mouth. Good Shit took one of his hands off of Massive's behind, waving it in the air for a second, then returned it back to its place. It seemed all had returned to normal.
"I guess that takes care of that," said Slap A Bag of Dickz.
Do Her Well shrugged. "Let's have returners!"
Good Shit Lollicock and Massive Cock Check came to the front of the circle once again. They had somehow managed to wedge Taste The Trojan in between them. People made mom jokes. Circle came to a close. Everyone stood around and drank Racer 5 or went to the bar and drank other types of beer.
And so they lived happily after after.
*A job title** passed to her from her mother Hold My Switch and her grandmother Hold My Tits before her. Auntie Hold My Kitsch was deemed too flighty for the role.
**Job title, not description.