Don't Dip Squirrels in Your Bourbon - 2

[BACK TO THE BEGINNING]

“Woah! Easy there, Rusty!” Lortlebee raised his hands slowly as his mind raced. “This doesn’t need to get out of hand. Just let her go.”

“Only if I get to teach you a lesson, you smartass little shitface!” Rusty growled back. His knife was pressed against Shelby’s throat so tightly that a thin trail of blood had started dripping down her neck.

“Yes, of course, God-dammit, whatever! Just put the knife away, Rusty!” Lortlebee pleaded.

Rusty chortled triumphantly. “That’s what I thought, you pansy-ass, ugly, yellow-bellied coward!”

“Yup, that’s me. Yellow-bellied and ugly to the core. Now let Shelby go so you can whoop my ass with both hands. I know you remember how, seeing as you did it just last spring at the Harvest Festival,” Lortlebee said evenly. He had the beginnings of a hastily conceived plan to escape; assuming Rusty didn’t slit Shelby’s throat for shits and giggles.

Rusty tossed Shelby aside. She fell to the dirty floor and let out a stifled sob. Unfortunately for Lortlebee, Shelby looked up from crying into her hands just in time to see him discreetly shoot a fireball at Rusty’s pant leg. Granted, it wasn’t much of a fireball, but it was enough to set Rusty’s trousers burning and everyone else had been staring at Rusty.

“I’m going to enjoy this you ugly hillfolk - hey! What the hell is burning?” Rusty glanced down at his burning pants and yelped like an old woman who’d just spied a spyder.

Mac the bartender returned from the cellar and sighed grouchily. “Dammit, Rusty. What have you done now?”

Rusty was hopping up and down, continuing to squeal and kick his legs furiously. Not surprisingly, not a single person in the bar leapt to his aid. The good folks of Walton’s End took the philosophy of letting their neighbors reap what they had sown to heart. Also, Rusty was an asshole.

“Take your pants off, dumbass!” Lortlebee finally shouted as the fire continued to spread.

Rusty, still hopping and kicking, now attempted to unlace his trousers. He was not particularly successful and his antics were making the fire spread faster. Rusty was going to burn alive if Lortlebee didn’t put a stop to this.

Lortlebee rolled his eyes and gave Rusty a hefty shove towards the door. “It’s raining outside, just go stand in the street for a second!”

Rusty scampered through the door and faceplanted into the muddy street outside. The patrons of Dead Man’s Blunder chuckled to themselves and resumed their drinking.

“How the hell did he manage to set himself on fire?” Mac asked as he handed Lortlebee the bottle of bourbon he had ordered.

Lortlebee shrugged. He handed Mac twenty coppers for the bourbon. “How does he do any of the damn fool things he does?”

Mac grunted his agreement and went back to pouring ale.

Shelby was still staring at Lortlebee from where she sat on the floor. Lortlebee grabbed a clean looking towel off the counter and knelt beside Shelby. He wiped the blood off her neck then pressed it against the wound.

“Keep pressure on that or it will keep bleeding,” Lortlebee told her.

Shelby nodded and put her hand on the towel to keep it in place. Her brown eyes were still staring blankly at Lortlebee.

“Are you okay? Do you need me to walk you home?” Lortlebee asked. If she had understood what she had seen with the fireball then he was going to be in some serious trouble. The Mage Council paid an abundance of gold for the identity of a new mage and Shelby’s family definitely needed the money.

Shelby shook her head. “No, thank you. I need to finish my shift.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Lortlebee objected. “You almost died!”

Shelby stood up and brushed herself off. “And yet the show must go on. My family needs money to eat.”

Lortlebee sighed. “Very well. Be careful and if you run into any trouble know that you can hide out at my cabin.”

Shelby laughed, finally shaking the blank expression off her face. “Yeah, a shack in the woods with Old Man Yelton, that ought to keep me safe.”

Lortlebee rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. I’m here to help.”

“I know. You’re sweet. Now you better run along to your grandfather. God knows what would happen if he ran out of bourbon and started to sober up.”

Lortlebee frowned pensively. Should he pretend like he didn’t know Shelby had seen him use magic and hope she had been too dazed to understand? Or should he ask for her discretion?

1. Keep your mouth shut and hope for the best. You know you’re no good with words and saying anything will most likely make the situation worse rather than better.
2. You know she saw you use magic and you know her family really needs that Mage Council bounty money. Try to convince her not to turn you in.

Don't Dip Squirrels In Your Bourbon - 1

“No, no, no, that’s all wrong! Where’s your fire? Where’s your reckless abandon? Blast the target into oblivion like it’s your mooching hell-bitch ex-wife!”

Lortlebee Strange frowned. Not only did he not have a mooching hell-bitch ex-wife, he knew for a fact that his maternal grandmother was a lovely woman who had kicked his grandfather out of their home for being a belligerent drunkard and misogynist. Nevertheless, he gathered up the meager fury his heart possessed and willed it into a fireball that shot forth from his palm and barely singed the scarecrow his grandfather had set up as a target for Lortlebee to practice his magic on.

“Horrible.” Grandpa Yelton took a swig from his flask and groaned irritably. “A prancing little Rancon City homo could do better! What kind of mage can’t even blow up a straw man?”

Lortlebee cocked his head to the side quizzically. He regarded his grandfather for a moment, wondering if perhaps he had misunderstood his assignment. Had his grandfather not wanted him to practice his fire magic? It was the element he was least able to use effectively. Lortlebee had assumed that practicing his weak skills had been the point of the exercise, but now it seemed that Grandpa Yelton only wanted him to demonstrate his ability to make objects explode. Lortlebee often had difficulty deciphering what his grandfather actually wanted from him.

Closing his eyes and focusing the calm, rational energy of the universe, Lortlebee extended his hand again and let lightning fly from his palm. The scarecrow erupted in a flurry of flaming straw and overalls. Lortlebee turned back to smile at his grandfather.

Grandpa Yelton was glowering at Lortlebee. “No one likes a flashy motherfucker who dips squirrels in his bourbon.” He spun around, nearly fell down, and started stalking back towards the dilapidated cabin he shared with Lortlebee. “Now run along to the village to fetch grandpa some more bourbon.”

After all these years, Lortlebee still had no idea at all what dipping squirrels in your bourbon was a metaphor for so he shrugged and started trudging his way towards the little village beyond the forest where he and Grandpa Yelton lived.

Walton’s End was a tiny little burg on the far end of a peninsula in the far northwest corner of the Altian Empire. No one cared about it and no one from there cared about the rest of the empire. As far as Lortlebee could tell, it had no exports or valuable resources other than fish and trees, which were more than plentiful in the rest of the northwest. They all scratched out a living as far away from authority figures as humanly possible, which Lortlebee assumed was why his grandfather had brought him here. Grandpa Yelton had some sort of serious issue with the empire and especially the Mage Enclave that governed all the magic users in the empire. Not that Lortlebee could discern any specifics from his grandfather’s drunken rants about the follies of government and bureaucracy.

It started raining when Lortlebee was halfway from their cabin to Walton’s End. He could very easily have cast a spell that diverted the rain and kept himself dry, but evidently despite their irritation with the empire, the good folks of Walton’s End would sell Lortlebee and Grandpa Yelton to the Mage Enclave faster than Grandpa Yelton could spit out an offensive slur about women if they ever caught them using magic. So Lortlebee continued walking in the rain, getting thoroughly drenched by the downpour.

Lortlebee walked into the Dead Man’s Blunder tavern and immediately had to duck a flagon of ale that was thrown at him from one of the regulars.

“Your kind ain’t welcome here, ya hillfolk idgit!” Rusty George hollered at Lortlebee.

Lortlebee sighed and kept walking up to the bartender. Grandpa Yelton had managed to egregiously insult most, if not all, of the townsfolk back when he had actually bothered coming into the village instead of sending Lortlebee. Needless to say, Lortlebee was not well liked due to his association with his grandfather.

“Old bastard hasn’t drank himself to death yet?” the bartender asked by way of greeting.

“No, sir, not yet,” Lortelbee answered.

“Hey Mac! Don’t serve that hillfolk asshole!” Rusty shouted from his table.

Mac ignored Rusty. “The usual?” he asked.

Lortlebee nodded. Mac headed down to the cellar to get a bottle of his bourbon for Grandpa Yelton. Lortlebee did his best to not make eye contact with any of the other patrons.

“Seems like we’re seeing you in here more and more. You sure he isn’t pouring the stuff down the drain just to get your ugly ass out of the house?” one of the barmaids who was just a few years older than him asked as she nudged his elbow good naturedly. Shelby was eighteen and had been working here to help feed her brothers and sisters ever since her father died while he was out fishing in the middle of a storm four years ago.

“If by drain you mean his throat, then yes,” Lortlebee retorted.

Shelby the barmaid laughed. “Well, I certainly don’t miss him coming in here and pinching my ass every night.” Then Shelby yelped in surprised and spun around.

Rusty was behind her with a lecherous grin on his face. “I suppose that’s because you like me pinching you so much, eh?”

Lortlebee clenched his teeth. Anger was not an emotion he experienced regularly. He was subjected to rudeness on a regular basis and he tended not to give a good God damn about it. Damn near everyone was either an idiot or an asshole and the whole lot of them could burn in hell as far as he was concerned. However, preying on someone forced to put up with your shit like Shelby was, well that was uncalled for.

Lortlebee said nothing, he simply stood up and stepped between Rusty and Shelby.

“What in the God damned hell do you think you’re doing, you scrawny, ugly, gangly piece of shit?” Rusty demanded.

“I’m just admiring the view,” Lortelbee shot back as he stared into Rusty’s eyes. “No rules in this bar about a man standing wherever he wants to.”

“Move your boney ass before it gets moved, hillbilly,” Rusty warned.

Lortlebee smiled. “I feel like there’s an unnecessary hostility here. Why don’t I buy you a drink and then we can be buddies?”

Rusty’s already angry glower soured further. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, I’m not your buddy!”

“A thousand?!?” Lortlebee gasped in mock astonishment. “That’s damn near a gajillionty for an illiterate like you! I’m honored that you would keep a count that high of how many times you’ve talked to me.”

Lortelbee’s teeth would have been knocked in if he hadn’t started ducking as soon as he’d unleashed his smartass remark. Of course Rusty was going to throw a punch, but he was already drunk and he wasn’t moving all that quickly. As he always did, Lortlebee darted away rather than fight back.

Only this time his little game with the local drunk went horribly awry.

Rather than take another wild swing at Lortlebee with his big hairy fist, Rusty pulled a knife and pressed it against Shelby’s neck. “I’ve had it with your games, you slick talking pissant! You either let me and my boys beat your ass until you’ve learned your lesson or I slit her pretty throat. What do you say?”

1. What do you say? You say a bolt of lightning straight to his bastard face!
2. Surrender, you’ve been beaten by these bullies before and one more bruised face is a fair trade for guaranteeing Shelby’s safety.

Everybody Out, Someone Werewolfed in the Pool - Day 17

Calvin spent the whole day feeling like there was a giant shoe hanging over his head and it was just about to drop. Math class, lunch, and swim practice all occurred in their blissfully normal routines, however. He kept a close eye on Logan, but his friend displayed no overt signs of being a villainous mastermind. There was the very real possibility that Logan was an unwitting pawn in Marla or Sara's schemes, but there was little that Calvin could do about that right now. Still, that feeling of looming dread persisted all through the afternoon.

Calvin had just about convinced himself that he was being paranoid when a shotgun blast ripped through the windshield of the Hyundai on his way home from swim practice.

"Hurry, dammit!" Someone snarled in a gruff voice.

Two men with ski masks on their heads came darting out of the woods. Calvin winced as he saw them approach. Several slugs or pellets or whatever the hell they were had lodged themselves painfully in his torso. Both men smashed the windows of Calvin's front doors so they could point their shotguns at him more menacingly.

"Don't try it, freak! I'll fill you up fuller of lead than my Aunt Martha’s gut at an all you can eat buffet!" One of the gunmen growled. "We know what y’all can do."

Calvin groaned and looked down at the bloody ruin of his t-shirt. "Then you have to know how phenomenally stupid what you just did was."

"I said-" he started another threat that he never finished. Calvin twisted around, transforming as he did so, and smacked the shotgun out of that one's hands. Calvin picked the now unarmed man up and hurled him at his fellow thug. The two of them went down in a scrambling, cursing heap and Calvin pounced on them, teeth bared mere inches from their faces.

"Wait!" One of them pleaded. "We'll tell y’all who sent us, just don't kill us dead!"

Calvin hadn't planned on killing them, but he saw no reason to let them know that. "You better talk fast," he growled.

"Herbert! It were old Herbert! He wanted us to steal Miss Avery's prize cow so he can figure out how to make the werewolves in his big ol’ clan into freaks like you! Everybody knows Miss Avery has got more power right now than my cousin Burt’s got bourbon on his breath and they'll all be gunning for you! Please, that's all I know, I'm just a working stiff - I ain't got no big fancy bosses looking after me!"

Calvin pulled his snarling maw full of teeth away from their throats by just a hair. “What are your names?”

“I’m Festus and this here is my brother Darryl. Our other brother Darryl is driving the old pickup truck parked up ahead a ways. We call her Gertrude. The pickup, not Darryl, he ain’t no lady,” Festus explained nervously.

A thought suddenly occurred to Calvin. “How would you boys like to have someone look after you?” The two idiots in front of him looked to be a few years older than Calvin, but somehow calling them boys seemed like the only proper way to address them.

“I guess that depends on how you mean look after us.” Festus gulped. “Our momma was real keen on lookin’ after us ‘til we done pissed her off and then all she’d want to do was wallop on us with the cat. You wouldn’t think a tabby would hurt much, but ol’ Stripes didn’t like being flung about by the tail like that and she’d sink her claws into you if you didn’t duck fast enough.”

Calvin stared at Festus for a long moment. He hadn’t meant to do it as a form of intimidation, he had just been thoroughly perplexed and horrified by what the young hillbilly had said about being hit with the family cat. However, Festus and Darryl had both evidently considered Calvin’s silence to be incredibly threatening and both of them had pissed their pants.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Calvin had finally said, “No, no cat-beatings or any other kind of beatings. I assume all three of you are werewolves?”

Festus nodded. “Yes, sir. Our daddy was a were and he done passed it on to teach of us when we was old enough. That was before he run oft with that trollop of a cashier from the Piggly Wiggly’s, of course. Mamma ain’t never set foot in a Piggly Wiggly’s since then. Except when she got drunk that once and tried to burn the place down, but she didn’t hurt nothin’ except some watermelons so alls we had to do was pay for the melons and haul her home.”

“Then consider yourselves under my protection,” Calvin told them. “I need people loyal to me who can help protect my friends and family. Can I count on you boys?”

Festus nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes sir! Yes sir, indeed! We know all about keepin’ kith and kin safe! It’s the one good thing our daddy taught us, according to mamma!”

Calvin stood, allowing Festus and Darryl to stand. “I suppose we had better tell your other brother Darryl about your new allegiance.”

“Great plan, hoss. You seem like a real smart feller. I bet we’re loads better off sticking with you than we were as freelancers,” Festus gushed. He pulled Darryl to his feet and the two of them wiped the dirt off their overalls...well, most of the dirt.

“I sure hope so,” Calvin replied. He looked at his ruined car, the torn clothes in the drivers, and realized he was going to be running home through the woods in werewolf form.

“Don’t you worry none about your car, hoss,” Festus assured Calvin. “Darryl’s real good at automotive workins. We’ll get your ride runnin’ all smooth like and then get it back to you. Say, that reminds me, how are we gonna get in contact with you?”

Calvin gave Festus his phone number and discovered that the brothers were staying--shockingly--in a trailer park on the outskirts of town. He bid the dimwitted brothers farewell and then headed home.

When Calvin reached his parents’ house he found his mother upset. “Calvin Douglas!” his mother chided. “There is another pack of mangy werewolves hanging around waiting for you again! I won’t stand for it!”

Calvin wondered when his mother, the same woman who had worn a pink Hard Rock Cafe tank top to Gemma’s confirmation, had decided she was some kind of fancy, high society lady, but he let it go. “I just need to get some clothes, mom. Then I’ll go talk to them.”

“You had better, young man! And what are you doing traipsing around as a werewolf? Just because you can be a werewolf whenever you like doesn’t mean you should!”

Calvin sighed. “Yes, mom.” He went upstairs, turned back into a human, and got dressed.

Out on the lawn one of the werewolves politely asked permission to conduct business in his territory, which Calvin gladly agreed to, but what he hadn’t counted on was another one of them being in the business of stabbing him between the ribs. Calvin cried out in pain and then his parents’ front lawn quickly disintegrated into a battle royale.

At least two other werewolves were in on the ambush, but another six or so were on the level. Some pulled out hatchets or machetes, but the rest had knives. Calvin wondered if he was about to create some kind of new folk saying in the werewolf community about dumbasses bringing knives to a werewolf fight. He transformed into a werewolf, ruining his second set of clothes that evening. He picked up two of the attacking werewolves and bashed them together like dolls before flinging them aside. The third would-be ambusher tried to run, but one of the other werewolves threw a hatchet that twirled end over end before striking the fleeing traitor in the back of the head. He fell and the others pounced on him.

“Sorry about the mess,” the werewolf who had asked Calvin’s permission to conduct business in his territory apologized. The others were loading the three unconscious men into the trunk of a sedan. “We’ll take care of it, though. Don’t you worry, sir.”

Sir. Calvin seemed to be garnering a certain amount of respect in the werewolf community. That was something that was likely to come in handy, what with all the people jumping out at him with guns and knives lately. Calvin gathered up his tattered, bloody clothes and went back inside.

“Werewolfing again?” Calvin’s mother groused. “Have you no manners at all? Were you raised in a barn?”

“Yes, mom. But thanks to you and dad, it was the finest barn in the whole county,” Calvin replied dryly.

“That is not funny, mister! Don’t you go telling the neighbors you were raised in a barn!”

“Mom, calm down. We don’t have any neighbors. Otherwise they would probably be grabbing their torches and pitchforks after the scrawny neighbor boy turned into a werewolf right in front of their eyes,” Calvin explained.

His mother continued as though he hadn’t said a thing. “Just because our old house was a manufactured home and technically still had the wheels attached does not mean we are some kind of white trash rednecks! We are sophisticated, God-dammit!”

Calvin took a deep breath and did his best to sound calm and rational. “Mom. I’m a werewolf now. Just yesterday our town was under attack from zombies. Today I think I ended up in the middle of a werewolf civil war and tomorrow the werewolves might go all 1939 Germany on everyone and try an all out bid for world domination now that they think they’ve discovered the master race. Can you please calm down so I can put on my third set of pants for the day and go meet the cute redheaded fairy girl who is supposed to be spying on me?”

“Ooh! Calvin, you have a date?” his mother gushed. “Tell me all about her! How did you meet? What color are her eyes? Does she play basketball? What about musical instruments? Can she sing? I always wanted a daughter-in-law with a beautiful singing voice.

Calvin stared at her for a moment. “I’m going upstairs to change,” he said at last.

Why everyone got so damn excited about Calvin meeting up with Rhoslyn, he had no idea. It wasn’t as though he had never been on a date before...but if something did not go utterly, horribly, irreversibly wrong it would certainly be a first. Calvin passed out on the bed so he could transform painlessly and woke up five minutes later. He dressed and started his homework while he waited for Rhoslyn to call.

Finally, Calvin’s phone buzzed. It was a text from Rhoslyn’s number, but it was definitely not from Rhoslyn. “We have the fairy. Meet us at the Wal*Mart in fifteen minutes.”

“Jesus Christ,” Calvin swore. This day was getting ridiculous. And whoever these people were seemed to be at least a little intelligent. They had kidnapped Rhoslyn and then demanded to meet in a public place. No quick werewolf transformations to brawl his way out of this one. Calvin called Festus and his brothers Darryl anyway, just so that he would have backup if things went to hell. Festus agreed to meet him there “quicker than a fart out of Grandma Ethel on Easter morning.” Whatever that meant.

Calvin took his clothes back off, transformed, tied his clothes to his arm so he could run freely and then change back once he got to Wal*Mart, and then headed out to face his newest tribulation.

Everybody Out, Someone Werewolfed in the Pool - Day 16

Driving back to Port Orchard felt very strange to Calvin. There were no zombies after them. Kari had given him a serious tongue lashing on the ride back from Oregon. Sara wasn’t talking to anybody. Gemma would not shut up about wanting to stop at every single fast food restaurant they saw a sign for. Except for Harris being too shell shocked to hit on Kari, things were basically back to normal.

Then they arrived at Calvin’s parents’ house.

A dozen motorcycles, three muscle cars, and an old mini school bus that had been painted to look like a giant boxy wolf were parked in front of the house. Burly men and women, mostly clad in black leather and spiky necklaces with more tattoos and piercings than they had fingers, milled about amicably on the lawn.

“What the hell is this?” Kari asked Calvin as they drove up.

“I have no idea, but my mom is going to freak out,” Calvin answered.

“They’re just being polite, silly,” Marla told him. She had switched back and forth between Marla and Nel several times during the four hour car ride, but evidently now it was convenient for her to be her own evil twin. “Any supernatural, especially one of your own kind, will ask permission from the local Guardian before conducting any business in their territory.”

“Wait...I’m really the Guardian of Kitsap County?” Calvin had thought that his attempted murder of Tim Kane, business werewolf had voided that title. Although, evidently Sara had lied about werewolves not being able to regenerate while in human form. It had all been part of Marla’s master plan to maneuver Calvin to where she wanted him.

“Of course! Not everything we told you was a lie.” Marla rolled her mismatched eyes.

“So all these people are werewolves who want my permission to conduct business in my territory? Let me guess, that means you’ll be sticking around and setting up shop here.” Calvin sighed. While he hadn’t really expected Marla to pack up and leave, he had certainly been hoping that he had been wrong about that!

“Exactly. And I would really take it as a kindness if you gave them permission to do so.” Marla chuckled. They both knew that even though Calvin was strong enough to take her and her minions in a fight, he couldn’t keep all the people he cared about safe all the time. Crossing Marla meant putting people he loved at risk.

“Of course,” Calvin replied good naturedly.

“Oh dear lord!” Calvin’s mother exclaimed when she got out of her car and saw all the bikers on her lawn. “What...how...Calvin!”

“Easy there, mom,” Calvin said soothingly as he climbed out of Sara’s van.

“Calvin! Just look at them! They’re all...and...ARGH!” she wailed.

“Mom. Calm down. These are just some werewolf friends from out of town. They need my permission to enter my territory. You’re going to have to get somewhat used to this now that you know all about my secret,” Calvin explained calmly.

“Fine,” his mother replied sullenly. “But I’m not making them tea,” she declared as she stomped up the driveway and into the house without looking at the assembled werewolves.

“When have you ever made guests tea?” Calvin wondered aloud. “Do we even have tea in the house?”

Then the werewolves approached him respectfully. It felt very odd. “Guardian,” one of them said in a very official and somber tone, “May we conduct business within your territory? We swear that we shall not harm you or yours.”

Calvin nodded. “You may. Go in peace,” he added belatedly. He decided that if he was going to be making things up as he went along, he might as well make it sound official.

The werewolves all nodded appreciatively and began to depart. Calvin heaved a sigh of relief. He had been mildly concerned that the werewolves wouldn’t take him seriously in his juicy pink sweatpants and slut tank top.

Calvin rubbed his eyes tiredly. It was Sunday afternoon and he was going to have to go to school tomorrow, which seemed insane after everything that had happened since Thursday. And he was going to have to do homework before going to bed tonight. What kind of werewolf has homework?

Calvin trudged into the house while everyone else drove off in their respective cars. When he reached his room he flopped down on his bed. His cell phone immediately buzzed over on his desk where he had set it. Groaning, he stood and looked at his phone. It was a text from Rhoslyn. She had stayed in Oregon with her fairy family, obviously.

“Did you get home safely?” her text said.

“Yes,” Calvin wrote back. “Marla met a bunch of werewolves on my parents’ lawn, but it all went down peacefully. How is the fairy court?”

“Fine. They’re all a little worried over having so much happen in our territory. They want me to go up and visit you to make sure things aren’t getting out of hand. Is that okay?” she asked.

“Of course. It would be good to see you again. Did you tell them about Marla’s evil plan to start a war and expose the whole supernatural world?”

“Yes. They don’t believe it’s possible. I think they’re just too scared to believe it. So it’s okay for me to come for a visit tomorrow?”

“Definitely,” Calvin replied.

“Great! See you then.”

Calvin pulled his math book out of his backpack and started doing his homework, all the while muttering to himself how ridiculous it was to be doing math problems right on the heels of saving his family and friends from zombies. When he finally went to sleep that night he was utterly exhausted. Hopefully tomorrow would be a normal day, aside from his new friend the fairy coming to visit any way.

Monday was not a normal day. In fact, Calvin was fairly certain that he was never going to have a normal day again. He stood in the commons with his mouth agape. Kari and Harris stood next to him in similar states of dumbfoundedness.

“This is your fault,” Kari finally said accusingly to Calvin.

Calvin shrugged. “Yeah. It probably is.”

“I don’t...what...um...God dammit!” Harris screamed, earning him a dirty look from a passing teacher.

All three of them were staring, hopelessly puzzled, at Logan inexpertly flirting with a disinterested girl, just like he would be doing on any other given Monday morning. He was back to his normal height and pudginess. When Calvin had first seen him he had immediately panicked and scanned the area for Sara, but so far she was nowhere to be seen.

“What do we do?” Kari asked tentatively.

“I guess we go talk to him,” Calvin said.

“About what?” Harris asked.

Calvin shrugged again. “I have no Goddamn idea. What did we used to talk to him about?”

“Mostly about what a dumbass he was,” Kari answered without missing a beat. “Ugh. Look at him, he’s still being a dumbass!”

The girl Logan was talking to was very obviously trying to walk away and escape the conversation, but Logan was walking away with her.

“Oh, it’s painful to watch!” Harris covered his eyes. “Even Calvin isn’t that bad at talking to girls!”

“Hey, I’m right here!” Calvin retorted.

“Calvin never talks to girls,” Kari chided. “That would ruin his carefully crafted reputation as a crotchety old man.” She smirked.

“This is really not the time to be mocking my love life. Hulk Logan just reappeared as regular Logan. We need to figure out if he’s still an mindless brute being controlled by Sara or if he’s back to his old dumbass self,” Calvin said.

“Fine. You’re right,” Kari admitted grudgingly. “Go save that girl, that was a thing you used to do. Then you can see if Logan hulks out on you.”

Calvin rolled his eyes. “Great plan.” But he went over to them anyway.

“...so that’s what I mean about those guys not respecting who you really are. You know, on the inside. As a real person,” Logan was droning on at the girl.

Calvin tapped Logan’s shoulder. “There you are!”

As soon as Logan turned his head the girl he had been talking to darted away into the crowd behind her. Calvin swore she mouthed the words “thank you” to him before she disappeared entirely.

“Oh hey, buddy!” Logan said brightly when he saw Calvin. “How was your weekend?”

Calvin’s eyes bulged in surprise, but he covered it as quickly as he could. “Ummm...alright, I guess. You know, the usual stuff. What about you? Anything exciting happen?”

Logan shook his head. “Nah. I thought I had a date with Kelsi Peters, but then when I showed up at the movie theater there were a bunch of her friends there too. It wasn’t a date,” he said sadly.

“That’s rough, man. I’m sorry. Well, I just wanted to see how you were doing. I’ll see you in English class.” Calvin waved and then walked back to Harris and Kari.

“Well?” Kari asked eagerly.

“Either he’s suddenly become and even better liar than Sara or he remembers nothing. He even has fake memories of some girl inviting him to the movies with a bunch of her friends,” Calvin explained.

“He thought it was a date, didn’t he?” Harris snickered.

“Not the important detail to latch onto, Harris.” Calvin glowered at his friend. “So it looks like between Sara and Marla they were able to turn him back into a real boy and replace his memories.”

“Wonderful. Do you think they did it so Logan could spy on us for them?” Kari guessed.

“Probably,” Calvin agreed. “The real question though, is why do they still think we’re a big enough threat to spy on?”

“You do know all about Marla’s evil plan. Maybe she wants to keep an eye on you to make sure you don’t tip off the head werewolf lady or any of the other supernatural factions,” Kari speculated.

Calvin nodded. “That makes sense. Crap! It’s also damn inconvenient. The Oregon Rose Fairies are sending Rhoslyn up for a visit tonight.”

“What do you think Marla will do about it when she finds out?” Kari asked.

“No idea. She’s so bat-shit crazy, she could do anything from stop by with a pinata and balloons to covering my house in a dome of zombies so Rhoslyn can’t ever reach the front door.” Calvin shook his head. “I guess we just wait and see.”

“So. Rhoslyn is coming for a visit.” Harris nudged Calvin with his elbow. “Won’t that be lovely. Huh? Huh?” He winked conspiratorially.

Calvin sighed. The fairy girl was very cute, but he wasn’t about to let Harris know he thought that. “Shut up, Harris.”

“If you need any ideas for good first dates-” Harris started.

Kari interrupted him. “Be sure not to listen to him.” She smacked Harris upside his head. “Rhoslyn isn’t one of your dumb floozies. Take her somewhere nice,” Kari told Calvin.

“This still isn’t a date,” Calvin reminded them both. “And we have more serious problems to consider than my love life.”

“Is there a more dire situation than Calvin’s love life?” Harris asked Kari.

Kari put a finger to her chin thoughtfully. “You know, Harris. I don’t know that there is. He really seems like the very definition of a lost cause.”

“Very funny, you two.” Calvin rolled his eyes. “Now can we please talk about something else?”

“Maybe we can trick him into getting dressed up by telling him there’s a formal wear only Pinochle tournament happening tonight?” Kari suggested, ignoring Calvin entirely.

“Or Bridge! Old men love Bridge!” Harris exclaimed. “And we’ll tell him there will be hot cakes! Nothing gets a crotchety old geezer excited like breakfast food!”

“Yes!” Kari agreed. “And that there will be eight different types of syrup! But we’ll have to make sure he knows it’s fancy syrup. He’s not getting dressed to the nines just for some cheap International House of Pancakes knockoff.”

“Freaking hilarious. That’s what you two knuckleheads are,” Calvin said dryly.