Assafrass, Angela and Michael laid on the deck in varying degrees of stupor. The pielight sky was hazy and rumbling. There were lots of shadowy shapes hanging in the sky, like big floating pinecones. Samwise, however, was completely un-stupified and still sitting peachy on Assafrass’ shoulder.
Wake up, you lazy ass!
Assafrass hee hawed in frustration. Stop using ass like that it’s degrading.
You call yourself Assafrass! Far as I can tell you’re assking for it!
Whoa arae yaou talkaing tao, Aassafrass?
Samwise.
Like, who’s Samwise? Angela butted in, while literally shoving her butt in Michael’s face for sniffing purposes.
Yea, Assafrass, who am I? Let’s all ask the tough questions. What do I stand for? What makes me tick?
Cluck off Samwise. Samwise is the toucan on my shoulder.
Uam, Aassafrass, yoau realiaze iat’s naot aliave, raight?
Yes, Michael, I realize that. Thank you.
Yes, thank you for your input, Michael, I am indeed stuffed with cotton. It’s a very fulfilling lifestyle.
Hey y’all, what’s up? the translucent catlike shape of the Janelle waved a paw. Mind if, heh, mind if I ask a favor?
What are you doing here? Angela stopped sniffing Michael’s butt reciprocatively and snorted.
Look, I helped you out. I granted your wish.
Uh, did you though? Assafrass flopped his ears quizzically. I don’t see my ass master around anywhere.
Ahh yes, chuckled Samwise, Let’s not forget Assafrass and his prized ass master. Nothing funny about that title, you know. Ass master. It’s very serious. Not weirdly sexual, either.
Cluck off Samwise!
Yoau knaow Aassafrass, Ia uased tao thaink yoau weare quaite smaooth. Naot sao mauch anymaore.
Will you please shut the cluck up for a second? The Janelle raised a paw. Thanks. As far as your wish goes, I assure you, it is granted. You and your ass master will be reunited soon enough. What I wanna know is, well, okay this is a little awkward, but—
Michael farted.
Oh my cock, mentally moaned Assafrass, That clucking reeks.
Please listen to me and ignore the flatulence.
This time Angela farted.
Look, the Janelle mentally sighed, I’m stuck in this lamp you’ve got sitting here in between the three of you.
Four of you corrected Samwise.
Wait. Shit. Where’s the lamp?! the Janelle suddenly started floating away from the animals. They looked up to see a peg legged skyrate with a long, thin cigar running off with the lamp clutched in his hook hand.
Well cluck, Assafrass hee hawed halffartedly, I guess we’ve got to go save her, don’t we?
Save her? Angela tilted her head, That’s my master right there. It’s his lamp anyway.
Well, you’re a dog, aren’t you?
There you go, Assafrass! Take one from old Sammie’s book.
Excraete mae, whaat thae clauck ias thaat suppoased tao maean, Aassafrass?
Well, don’t dogs like chasing after shiny things? Playing keep away? Et cetera?
Angela tilted her head. I mean. Yes. I could always go for that.
Daon’t laet haim taalk daown tao yoau, Angaela! Michael paused for a moment to sniff and lick some dried skybird shit. Wae daogs havae staandards!
Why don’t you just go snatch that lamp back from your master? Just for laughs. Wasn’t it so fun taking it out of his chambers?
It was pretty clucking fun. And Michael that bird shit looks pretty fun too but—cluck it—be right back! Angela dashed off after her master.
Nice job, lazy ass. Get the vitch to do all your twerk for you.
Cluck off, Samwise.
The animals bristled as the deck rumbled under the shaking steps of animatronic legs. They turned to see standing tall some dusty man in a strange robotic suit made out of twigs, leaves, tree branches, honeycombs and broken dreams.
“H’hay th’theyur a’aminawls! Ah’ah d’ew l’luwv a’aminawls. Y’yew m’maht w’wawna c’cuwm w’iyuth m’eyuh. E’eyuts n’awt v’veray s’ayuf w’wiyuth a’awl th’theyus f’folks a’attaykin’ e’yutchutheyar. M’mah n’nayum’s Frinkles!”
Whaat ian thae clauck daid thaat gauy jaust saay? Hias accaent ias naear unintellaigible.
“W’wawuytch a’awouwt! ‘Th’theeyuz sh’uwld p’preteyuct y’yews!” Frinkles threw a pile of dead leaves into the air.
What in the hen are those supposed to do? mentally guffawed Samwise.
FFFSHHHHHKKKKKKHHHH
A flaming boulder shot out from a floating pinecone in the distance and pummeled into the wall adjacent to Angela’s master’s chambers. Michael and Assafrass, cowering on the deck, looked up to see the dead leaves swirling around them in a protective dome shape.
“L’layeek a’ah s’ayud, y’ew sh’shewld c’awm w’wiyuth m’eyuh. I’iyuts n’awt s’sayuf f’fer y’ew t’tew h’heyur.”
I for one don’t appreciate this taxidermied toucan erasure, Samwise whined.
***
“Well well well. You’ve been a real elusive figure, mister…Wermswerth. If that is your real name.”
A bright, shining light would have seared Werthers’ irises were it not for the thick, rubbery mass of ostrich suit heavily obscuring his vision. His head ached and he felt dehydrated as hen.
“We’ve been watching you very, very closely. Some might even say too closely. And others may say not close enough. And others still may say that we’ve been watching you just the appropriate amount. Cigarette?”
Werthers shook his head and tried to ask for water, but his throat was so dry barely anything but a meager squeak eeked out. It was then he realized he was tied tightly to a chair. A shadowy figure reached over and stuck a lit cigarette through his beak and into his mouth. He hacked.
“So, Wermswerth. How has playing the two layered cake game treated you, eh?”
Werthers coughed.
“What, surprised someone finally unscrambled the eggs?”
Another cough.
“Look Wermswerth, we know you’re greasing the agency and the syndicate off eachother. Anyone with their second degree in escargot would see it in a second. And I’ve got my fifth degree in escragot, Wermswerth. So imagine what I see.”
Werthers shivered, afraid of the woman’s tone but confused by everything she said.
“No need to be shocked. Sure, you may be hood at playing the wayword sponge, but one can’t simply coast in this business.”
Another cough.
“Wermswerth, you’re really breaking my labia here. It’s muddy shameful, it is, what you’re doing.”
Werthers did his best to hold back a fart, keeping it mostly silent.
The figure slammed a fist on the table that was apparently in front of them.
KKNNFFFF
“I knew you had nerves of steel Wermswerth but this is simply absurd! Do you know the stakes of this game?”
Werthers silently sobbed, wishing only to lay in a nice, soft bed and magic a moment of peace.
KKNNFFFF
“Fine. Fine. Look, the bureau is prepared to offer you three times what both of them are offering you, combined, for your services. We need someone like you. Your dopeishness, your complete inability to appear to comprehend anything that happens around you, it’s something none of us have.”
Werthers audible wailed this time.
KKNNFFFF
“Cock hamnit fine I give the cluck in you hear?! Ten times! Ten times what they give you! And a lifelong entaglement when your current omelette is overcooked! That’s loberster security no slugger this side of Caldonia has ever had, including me! That’s all I can offer you! Cluck’s sake, Wermswerth, please just say something!”
“O-okay?” Werthers warbled.
“Oh thank cock! Ugh!” the figure stood up and trapsed away, whispering to other shadowy figures, “Get me away from him I can’t take it I just can’t take it hoooly cluck this guy is intense.”
“It’s okay it’s okay you did great you did great,” someone whispered and patted her on the back solemnly.
Werthers shivered as he heard the clunking of feet behind him and felt hands pull the ropes tighter around him and then—
KKRT
—snip them loose. He took a breath of unfresh air and stood to his dizzied feet. A voice whispered in his ear,
“We appreciate your cooperation. Proceed as if this never happened. The bureau will be in touch.”
Werthers swore he felt a light tap on his ass as whoever was behind him receded back into nothingness. Then, he felt something sharp hit him on the head.
Werthers eyes flushed open. He was enclosed in darkness. And in something more than darkness. Some sort of…box. He rocked it back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and fo—
“What in the cluck?!?!” screamed a woman’s voice. “Who’s in my magic box?!?!”
Werthers froze. A door swung open and a woman in a shimmering starry dress screamed. He was standing in a birghtly lit dressing room.
“Who the cluck are you and why are you in that horrifying suit?!”
“Wh-who are—pffpfppfpfttt—you?!” Werthers babbled, choking on the cigarette butt in his mouth.
“Why Worms!” exclaimed the shocked voice of Ronaldo, who now stood beside him, “She’s Mister Magick, of course!”
“M-Mister Magick?” he puzzled at Mister Magick’s obvious womanhood.
“Yea Wowmie come on now get with the pwogwam!” piped up Pripkin’s lit cigarette. “Cluffing ignowamouf.”
Mister Magick turned to Ronaldo, grasped his hand and sighed. “You know, Ronaldo, I wish you’d come back and twerk here more often.”
“Not with this mud again, Mister Magick! My last time was my last time. It almost interfered with my real job. I can’t let that happen again.”
“Okay,” Mister Magick took a small tube of lipstick out of a drawer and pressed it in Ronaldo’s palm, “Take this. I don’t want you to forget about us when you’re rich and successful.”
A single tear ran down Ronaldo’s face. “Never.”
“Cluff’f fafkef. Can we get to twerk alweady?”
“Let me spend some time with Mister Magick!” Ronaldo leaned over to Pripkin, “We talked about this, you clucking jerk.”
“Fine fine whatevaw whatevaw.”
“Oh cluck! I’m late! Shit shit shit!” Mister Magick scurried around the room, grabbing for things, “Where’s my clucking leotard? Ugh! Cock hammit! Shit! It’s fine everything is ugh everything’s fine!”
She continued tearing up the room, tossing chairs around, troublingly even unscrewing a lightbulb and shattering it on the floor and later sweeping it up after tearing some of her underwear in half out of frustration.
“Whatever!” Mister Magick slapped herself twice, smeared foundation all over her face and stormed out of the room.
Ronaldo forced Pripkin out of the room after her and Werthers reluctantly followed, only to mistakenly run out onstage moments later and slam into a drunk woman with giant boobies. Of course after that he lost consciousness.
Assafrass, Angela and Michael laid on the deck in varying degrees of stupor. The pielight sky was hazy and rumbling. There were lots of shadowy shapes hanging in the sky, like big floating pinecones. Samwise, however, was completely un-stupified and still sitting peachy on Assafrass’ shoulder.
Wake up, you lazy ass!
Assafrass hee hawed in frustration. Stop using ass like that it’s degrading.
You call yourself Assafrass! Far as I can tell you’re assking for it!
Whoa arae yaou talkaing tao, Aassafrass?
Samwise.
Like, who’s Samwise? Angela butted in, while literally shoving her butt in Michael’s face for sniffing purposes.
Yea, Assafrass, who am I? Let’s all ask the tough questions. What do I stand for? What makes me tick?
Cluck off Samwise. Samwise is the toucan on my shoulder.
Uam, Aassafrass, yoau realiaze iat’s naot aliave, raight?
Yes, Michael, I realize that. Thank you.
Yes, thank you for your input, Michael, I am indeed stuffed with cotton. It’s a very fulfilling lifestyle.
Hey y’all, what’s up? the translucent catlike shape of the Janelle waved a paw. Mind if, heh, mind if I ask a favor?
What are you doing here? Angela stopped sniffing Michael’s butt reciprocatively and snorted.
Look, I helped you out. I granted your wish.
Uh, did you though? Assafrass flopped his ears quizzically. I don’t see my ass master around anywhere.
Ahh yes, chuckled Samwise, Let’s not forget Assafrass and his prized ass master. Nothing funny about that title, you know. Ass master. It’s very serious. Not weirdly sexual, either.
Cluck off Samwise!
Yoau knaow Aassafrass, Ia uased tao thaink yoau weare quaite smaooth. Naot sao mauch anymaore.
Will you please shut the cluck up for a second? The Janelle raised a paw. Thanks. As far as your wish goes, I assure you, it is granted. You and your ass master will be reunited soon enough. What I wanna know is, well, okay this is a little awkward, but—
Michael farted.
Oh my cock, mentally moaned Assafrass, That clucking reeks.
Please listen to me and ignore the flatulence.
This time Angela farted.
Look, the Janelle mentally sighed, I’m stuck in this lamp you’ve got sitting here in between the three of you.
Four of you corrected Samwise.
Wait. Shit. Where’s the lamp?! the Janelle suddenly started floating away from the animals. They looked up to see a peg legged skyrate with a long, thin cigar running off with the lamp clutched in his hook hand.
Well cluck, Assafrass hee hawed halffartedly, I guess we’ve got to go save her, don’t we?
Save her? Angela tilted her head, That’s my master right there. It’s his lamp anyway.
Well, you’re a dog, aren’t you?
There you go, Assafrass! Take one from old Sammie’s book.
Excraete mae, whaat thae clauck ias thaat suppoased tao maean, Aassafrass?
Well, don’t dogs like chasing after shiny things? Playing keep away? Et cetera?
Angela tilted her head. I mean. Yes. I could always go for that.
Daon’t laet haim taalk daown tao yoau, Angaela! Michael paused for a moment to sniff and lick some dried skybird shit. Wae daogs havae staandards!
Why don’t you just go snatch that lamp back from your master? Just for laughs. Wasn’t it so fun taking it out of his chambers?
It was pretty clucking fun. And Michael that bird shit looks pretty fun too but—cluck it—be right back! Angela dashed off after her master.
Nice job, lazy ass. Get the vitch to do all your twerk for you.
Cluck off, Samwise.
The animals bristled as the deck rumbled under the shaking steps of animatronic legs. They turned to see standing tall some dusty man in a strange robotic suit made out of twigs, leaves, tree branches, honeycombs and broken dreams.
“H’hay th’theyur a’aminawls! Ah’ah d’ew l’luwv a’aminawls. Y’yew m’maht w’wawna c’cuwm w’iyuth m’eyuh. E’eyuts n’awt v’veray s’ayuf w’wiyuth a’awl th’theyus f’folks a’attaykin’ e’yutchutheyar. M’mah n’nayum’s Frinkles!”
Whaat ian thae clauck daid thaat gauy jaust saay? Hias accaent ias naear unintellaigible.
“W’wawuytch a’awouwt! ‘Th’theeyuz sh’uwld p’preteyuct y’yews!” Frinkles threw a pile of dead leaves into the air.
What in the hen are those supposed to do? mentally guffawed Samwise.
FFFSHHHHHKKKKKKHHHH
A flaming boulder shot out from a floating pinecone in the distance and pummeled into the wall adjacent to Angela’s master’s chambers. Michael and Assafrass, cowering on the deck, looked up to see the dead leaves swirling around them in a protective dome shape.
“L’layeek a’ah s’ayud, y’ew sh’shewld c’awm w’wiyuth m’eyuh. I’iyuts n’awt s’sayuf f’fer y’ew t’tew h’heyur.”
I for one don’t appreciate this taxidermied toucan erasure, Samwise whined.
***
“Well well well. You’ve been a real elusive figure, mister…Wermswerth. If that is your real name.”
A bright, shining light would have seared Werthers’ irises were it not for the thick, rubbery mass of ostrich suit heavily obscuring his vision. His head ached and he felt dehydrated as hen.
“We’ve been watching you very, very closely. Some might even say too closely. And others may say not close enough. And others still may say that we’ve been watching you just the appropriate amount. Cigarette?”
Werthers shook his head and tried to ask for water, but his throat was so dry barely anything but a meager squeak eeked out. It was then he realized he was tied tightly to a chair. A shadowy figure reached over and stuck a lit cigarette through his beak and into his mouth. He hacked.
“So, Wermswerth. How has playing the two layered cake game treated you, eh?”
Werthers coughed.
“What, surprised someone finally unscrambled the eggs?”
Another cough.
“Look Wermswerth, we know you’re greasing the agency and the syndicate off eachother. Anyone with their second degree in escargot would see it in a second. And I’ve got my fifth degree in escragot, Wermswerth. So imagine what I see.”
Werthers shivered, afraid of the woman’s tone but confused by everything she said.
“No need to be shocked. Sure, you may be hood at playing the wayword sponge, but one can’t simply coast in this business.”
Another cough.
“Wermswerth, you’re really breaking my labia here. It’s muddy shameful, it is, what you’re doing.”
Werthers did his best to hold back a fart, keeping it mostly silent.
The figure slammed a fist on the table that was apparently in front of them.
KKNNFFFF
“I knew you had nerves of steel Wermswerth but this is simply absurd! Do you know the stakes of this game?”
Werthers silently sobbed, wishing only to lay in a nice, soft bed and magic a moment of peace.
KKNNFFFF
“Fine. Fine. Look, the bureau is prepared to offer you three times what both of them are offering you, combined, for your services. We need someone like you. Your dopeishness, your complete inability to appear to comprehend anything that happens around you, it’s something none of us have.”
Werthers audible wailed this time.
KKNNFFFF
“Cock hamnit fine I give the cluck in you hear?! Ten times! Ten times what they give you! And a lifelong entaglement when your current omelette is overcooked! That’s loberster security no slugger this side of Caldonia has ever had, including me! That’s all I can offer you! Cluck’s sake, Wermswerth, please just say something!”
“O-okay?” Werthers warbled.
“Oh thank cock! Ugh!” the figure stood up and trapsed away, whispering to other shadowy figures, “Get me away from him I can’t take it I just can’t take it hoooly cluck this guy is intense.”
“It’s okay it’s okay you did great you did great,” someone whispered and patted her on the back solemnly.
Werthers shivered as he heard the clunking of feet behind him and felt hands pull the ropes tighter around him and then—
KKRT
—snip them loose. He took a breath of unfresh air and stood to his dizzied feet. A voice whispered in his ear,
“We appreciate your cooperation. Proceed as if this never happened. The bureau will be in touch.”
Werthers swore he felt a light tap on his ass as whoever was behind him receded back into nothingness. Then, he felt something sharp hit him on the head.
Werthers eyes flushed open. He was enclosed in darkness. And in something more than darkness. Some sort of…box. He rocked it back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and fo—
“What in the cluck?!?!” screamed a woman’s voice. “Who’s in my magic box?!?!”
Werthers froze. A door swung open and a woman in a shimmering starry dress screamed. He was standing in a birghtly lit dressing room.
“Who the cluck are you and why are you in that horrifying suit?!”
“Wh-who are—pffpfppfpfttt—you?!” Werthers babbled, choking on the cigarette butt in his mouth.
“Why Worms!” exclaimed the shocked voice of Ronaldo, who now stood beside him, “She’s Mister Magick, of course!”
“M-Mister Magick?” he puzzled at Mister Magick’s obvious womanhood.
“Yea Wowmie come on now get with the pwogwam!” piped up Pripkin’s lit cigarette. “Cluffing ignowamouf.”
Mister Magick turned to Ronaldo, grasped his hand and sighed. “You know, Ronaldo, I wish you’d come back and twerk here more often.”
“Not with this mud again, Mister Magick! My last time was my last time. It almost interfered with my real job. I can’t let that happen again.”
“Okay,” Mister Magick took a small tube of lipstick out of a drawer and pressed it in Ronaldo’s palm, “Take this. I don’t want you to forget about us when you’re rich and successful.”
A single tear ran down Ronaldo’s face. “Never.”
“Cluff’f fafkef. Can we get to twerk alweady?”
“Let me spend some time with Mister Magick!” Ronaldo leaned over to Pripkin, “We talked about this, you clucking jerk.”
“Fine fine whatevaw whatevaw.”
“Oh cluck! I’m late! Shit shit shit!” Mister Magick scurried around the room, grabbing for things, “Where’s my clucking leotard? Ugh! Cock hammit! Shit! It’s fine everything is ugh everything’s fine!”
She continued tearing up the room, tossing chairs around, troublingly even unscrewing a lightbulb and shattering it on the floor and later sweeping it up after tearing some of her underwear in half out of frustration.
“Whatever!” Mister Magick slapped herself twice, smeared foundation all over her face and stormed out of the room.
Ronaldo forced Pripkin out of the room after her and Werthers reluctantly followed, only to mistakenly run out onstage moments later and slam into a drunk woman with giant boobies. Of course after that he lost consciousness.
