The Incompetent Witch and the Missing Men

by DC Thome

  Dot emerged from the forest of man-canisters. “I’ll see yer miserable wretch and raise ya a pathetic pile o’ doopity doo-doo.” She fired a blue streak of rays—that Brigid caught. Holy shit! She closed her hand around it and spun her arm, making Dot spin like a demented granny ballerina. The beam thickened and darkened into a purple magic band that wrapped itself around Dot as she spun helplessly.

  Camille and Megyyn ran up to me. “All the tubes are draining,” Megyyn said. “Why aren’t more of the men—”

  A sheet of lavender evil wrapped around her head and embraced Ashley, Megyyn, Camille and me.

  I tried to work myself free, but the more I fought, the tighter the bonds got.

  Brigid cackled. “You lose, bitches of Douchecanoe!”

  I felt Dot, whose back was pressed against mine, struggling as well. “Dad gummity lulu, she might have a point.”

  “We haven’t lost yet,” I said. “We’ll get us and the men out of here.”

  “Easier said than did,” Dot grunted. “Ya got a plan?”

  Actually, no. The dozen or so Dot and I had managed to free stumbled about naked and dazed. My mind raced back to the day before.

  “Men of Douchecanoe,” I yelled, “what is your desire?”

  The men—and their porkenschwǻngers—stood stood at attention and said in concert, “Brigid, my love! My one and only, true forever lavender love!”

  The line turned into a chant as the men filed past us toward Brigid. “Wait, you idiots! Get away from me! This isn’t the right time—uh, I’m not in the mood!” She tried to get away, but they had her surrounded. Since she couldn’t levitate, she reached for her broom, but one of the men was standing on it. And, for good measure, while she was bent over, two other guys squeezed her ass.

  The sheets of magic started to weaken. “We have to act fast while she’s preoccupied.” I started straining to get free, but when I realized how many men were still in their tubes and how viciously efficient Brigid was at staving off the zombie-ized men, I knew we were in trouble.

  My mind raced. What can we do? What strength haven’t we exploited?

  At that moment, Ashley’s personal breeze swept her hair across my face. I also got a whiff of her not-so-pleasant wraithbreath.

  Goddess in an underbust corset, that’s it!

  “Ashley, can you hit an A-note two octaves above middle C?”

  Dot grunted. “Why in the putzenjæmmerin’ dǭrkenschplðtz would she do that?”

  “It’s the note that shatters glass—if you can follow the melody of my line of cogitation.”

  Dot frowned.

  “I saw it on Mythbusters,” I said. “Ashley—sing!”

  Ashley simply gurgled. Abigail popped her head out of my cleavage—scaring the shit out of me because I’d forgotten she was there—and said, “She wants to be absolutely sure that you want her to do that.”

  Wielding her broom like an ax, Brigid was on the verge of breaking free from the gaggle of zombie men. “I’m sure.”

  “Absolutely?” Abigail said. “Because yesterday you got upset with her for—”

  “Tell her it’s O-fucking-K!”

  Abigail turned to Ashley. “Aiiiiiiiiiyeeeeeeghhhh.”

  Ashley looked at me, and I nodded. “As loud as you can.”

  Which I knew I might regret, since my ear was two inches from her lips—but what are you going to do? If Ashley blasts my brain clear out of my head, Dot can heal me. I hope.

  ***

  All one hundred canisters shattered—and there was still enough fluid in them to unleash a tsunami. A pink, strawberry-scented tsunami that swept everyone and everything toward the tunnel. The lavender knot of aSskicking Women tumbled in the curl of the wave along with the naked men of Douchecanoe. And Assjacket.

  The lavender binds finally broke as the current pitched us into the whirlpool spinning at the tunnel’s entrance. After a few dizzying revolutions, we were sucked into the drain tunnel, bumping and banging toward the narrow cleft where the water exited the cavern.

  After all this, we’re all going to be dashed to bits.

  Instead, we shot into a room that was flooded from floor to ceiling. It was like a slow-motion 3D re-enactment of a Hieronymus Bosch painting—naked bodies drifting, writhing, eyes bugged out in horror over the possibility of never being able to breathe again.

  I peered through the purple water to see the problem: Dot’s battering ram had smacked into the slit so hard that it crashed all the way through, creating a cave-in that blocked the opening.

  Goddess, please let me have just one more decent idea.

  I needed to move the ram—but the wrong move could turn Brigid’s love liquid into a propellant so strong it would shoot everyone out and across the chasm, to be crushed on the opposite wall like bugs on an airplane windshield.

  Airplanes! I can turn the ram into a ramp we can slide down to safety.

  Time for an incantation:

  Goddess, you don’t suck, I know

  But we’re in a real clusterfuck, so

  Give us a means to escape the damp on

  Something we can slide, like a ramp, on.

  I know—iffy grammar. Meter off. My Incantations and Spells teacher would give it a C+.

  But it fucking worked.

  The battering ram expanded, rapidly soaking up the water in the chamber. In seconds, the men of Douchecanoe lay on the floor in a big, gasping, squirming pile. One by one they struggled to their feet.

  And that’s when I saw Hunter.

  I wanted to go to him, but we weren’t out of danger and I had people to lead. I scrambled up onto the ram, squished my way to the plugged slit and frantically tossed aside rubble and rocks. Camille and Megyyn joined me, and in no time, we could see light from the outside.

  Dot examined the leaky battering ram. “Ya done it a-gin, girly-girl. How ya done it’s a mystery to me—not that I’m hankerin’ to know. But one thing I sure as shootie-toot-tootin’ do wanna know is—is this here machine ya conjured what I think it is?”

  “It does look disturbingly familiar,” Megyyn said.

  Camille looked away. “I don’t want to think about it.”

  “I’m not sure myself,” I added. “I asked the Goddess for help.”

  “I can’t wait to be hearin’ what it was ya implorified of her this time.”

  I repeated the incantation.

  “So,” Dot said, “ya requested, and I quote, ‘something like a Goddessdamn ramp on,’ and she—”

  “I don’t think it’s a ramp,” Megyyn said. “I think it’s a—”

  Camille covered her ears. “No! Don’t say it!”

  “Okay!” I said. “It’s not a water slide at fucking Disney World. But it worked. No one drowned. Now can we move on and clear a path out of here?”

  Megyyn, Camille and I attacked the rubble again. I scowled at Dot. “This might go faster if you helped.”

  “Another grand-champeen idee,” she said. “I thought ya’d never ask.” She raised her arms and twitched her nose, and in a flash, the entire slit was restored to its natural state. Then she kicked the end of the drenched battering ram, and it slid out through the opening and continued straight ahead until it bridged the chasm at the very place where the women of Douchecanoe had gathered in hopes of collecting their men. I checked to make sure it was solid, then went back inside. “Everybody line up!” I shouted. “Cross the bridge as fast as you can and find your mate.”

  The guys, groggy as they were, followed my instructions. As he passed me, Pokey Quill said, “You’re not that Brigid chick, are you?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Good. Because I never really cared much for her.”

  Should I say “you’re welcome” or “thank you”? I kissed him on the temple and sent him on his way.

  Hunter helped the others before going last. He stopped when he got to me and blinked.

  “Do you know who I am?” I asked.

  “I do,” he nodded. “You�
�re…um…”

  “Prudenzia.”

  “That’s right.” He smiled. “You’re Prudenzia—and I love you.”

  “You do?”

  “I love you because you’re beautiful and smart—and because you have such slim hips and an ass so tiny that no rapper would ever drop a rhyme about it.”

  I glanced at my hips.

  “Wait, that’s not right,” he said. “I know why I love you. The reasons are on the tip of my tongue.” He checked me out. “For one, I’m glad you don’t have slim hips and an ass so tiny that no rapper would ever drop a rhyme about it. In fact, your ass alone is worth an entire album.”

  “That’s a start,” I said. I kissed his cheek and whispered into his ear, “I love you, too.” Then I gave him a little push. “We’ll figure out the other reasons later. Let’s get out of here.”

  As we started across the chasm, the other couples cheered us on. Camille and Paul. Megyyn and Sly. The missing men from Assjacket and their ladies. Pillsbury and his S.O., John Deer.

  But then Billy G. Gruff staggered into view, naked and alone, a lost soul. A disgusting one, but lost nonetheless.

  Wait…where’s Ashley?

  I looked back at the cleft and the water gurgling peacefully into the collecting pool.

  Too peacefully…

  “Hunter—wait.” I reached in between my balumbos, fished around inside the romper and dredged up Abigail. “Keep going. And take her with you.”

  He took Abigail and glanced down the romper’s open neck. “What else you got down there?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” I said. But right now, I have to find Ashley.

  ***

  I entered the cave and immediately detected motion in the darkness. Purple motion. Brigid flew into the light on her mended broom, her eyes crazed, her jaw clenched. She hovered close to me, pointed and shrieked, “You may have destroyed my perfect evil plan, Strumpetdenzia La Slutwhore, but now I will destroy you!”

  I was waterlogged and tired and sick of the whole situation, but I raised my arms to muster all the blast-O I could. The resulting ray fizzled like a wet firecracker. Brigid, of course, cackled. Does she ever get tired of being such a stereotype?

  She raised her hands toward me, and I wondered for a split second if people would say nice things at my funeral. And then I thought, Fuck that!

  I threw myself against the cave wall just as the blast-O rays left Brigid’s fingers. The rock where I’d been standing splintered. Smoke rose from a dinner-plate-size crater.

  “You think you’re so great.” Brigid adjusted the orientation of her broom. “I’m a real witch—a competent witch—and just look what I can do.”

  She raised her hands again and fired. Shards of broken rock raked my legs as I dove into the dark part of the cave. Good thing I wore these boots!

  My eyes scoured the blackness, but I couldn’t see anything. I heard the roar of Brigid’s broom, though, and ducked. And then it felt as though someone grabbed me by the neck and jerked me sideways. I reached up and—what the fuck? My fingers closed around the handle of Brigid’s broom! The tip had caught my romper’s dog collar. I gagged as Brigid’s broom bucked and somersaulted, launching Brigid into the cave wall and dropping me into the stream.

  I let the clear, unscented water carry me toward the cave’s opening. Sure, I might overshoot the collecting pool and drop over the falls into a cauldron of roiling water and fog, but how bad could that be?

  I never found out. Brigid re-emerged into the light and blasted the pink rock that lined the cleft. I covered my face as a hailstorm of stones piled up in the stream, damming the entryway. I smashed into it feet first. Thank Goddess for chunky heels! But a second later the heels stuck in the rubble as I tried to turn and face down my archenemy. I tilted my head back and watched Brigid edge toward me, cackling and grinning like a lunatic.

  “Goodbye, Paramourdenzia, Shitty Healer of Douchecanoe. Parting is such sweet…sweet what? Hmmm. What’s the opposite of ‘sorrow’?”

  She pinched her chin and drummed a finger on her cheek. But even as she mocked me, a glow appeared behind her. A pale, greenish glow that I quickly recognized as Ashley, wafting from the bowels of the cavern and floating just inches behind Brigid. She winked at me, and then—

  “SCREEEEEEEYIYIYIYIYIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEGHHHHHHH!”

  Brigid shot straight up off her broom and smacked into the ceiling. She struggled to regain her balance as she wavered woozily from side to side. I kicked my feet free and turned to face her. Maybe if I concentrate with all my might, I can whip up a decent dose of rays.

  “Save yer rays—I got a better idee!” It was Dot, clambering through the entrance.

  “Did I say that out loud?”

  “No,” Dot said. “I could tell whatchoo were thinkin’ by the look on yer face.”

  She reached into her dress and pulled out something long and slim and pink.

  Wait—is that…?

  She tossed the long, slim, pink thing to me. My Magic & Mayhem™ Battery Operated Boyfriend Model ZZZ!NG. The one that had gone missing the night before.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  “Are ya daft? Turn it on.”

  I flicked the switch. “Now what?”

  “Oh, fer bumpferschmitzen’s sake—fling it at her!”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s not an intended use,” I said.

  “Not originally,” Dot said. “But I hocus-pocussed it up a bit, if ya follow my drift.”

  Brigid raised her hands. I flung the Model ZZZ!NG like a grenade. It tumbled through the air, righted itself and, with a reverberating electric buzz, honed in on Brigid’s underparts.

  Brigid screamed. Her broom reared up like a horse that had stepped on a beehive, and Brigid took off into the darkness with the vibrator in aggressive pursuit.

  “Wow,” I said. “That’s why you took it from my bedroom?”

  “Not at first. But when I seen it was the waterproof model, it dawndied on me that what yer Brigid really needs is to adjustify her outlook, if ya—”

  “And you knew it would be able to fly even though this is a no-fly zone?”

  Dot’s eyes darted back and forth. “Actually, that never crossed my ol’ thinkin’ bean. Total co-inkidinkidoo, if the legumal matter inside yer noggin—”

  She heaved a deep sigh.

  “I see no reason to continue mit the charade,” she said. “All ziss hoompha-doodledoo nonsense und dropping the ‘g’ at ze end of verbs wears me out.”

  “For once, I’m not followin’ ya.”

  “I vill exschplain.” She took my hand and led me toward the entrance to the cave. “I am your Aunt Dorothea, your grandmother’s sister. The family ostracized me venn I married a German vampire—Goddess rest his soul—but I had vays of keeping in touch. I haff known about you since ze day you ver born.”

  “I don’t remember anyone mentioning—”

  “The whole episode was hushed up for centuries. But through the years, I became good friends with Baba Yaga. Venn you had your run-in mitt the Orgasmism, she suspected Brigid might schtrike back, so she called me to Douchecanoe to protect you.”

  I stopped. “And you thought the best way to protect me was to steal my vibrator?”

  Dot—or Dorothea, or whatever—laughed. “The root of ze troubles mitt Das Brigid is that she lives a life mittout joy. Especially ze joy of allowing oneself to experience unbridled pleasure.” She lapsed into Dotspeak and jabbed me in the ribs. “And I’m sure as a cage full of humpin’ monkeys ya know what I’m talkin’ about there.”

  I smiled wickedly.

  “I am not suggesting Brigid’s problem can be solved only by an encounter mit a mann’s porkenschwǻnger. It could be a voman, or a BOB—or maybe she could just have a glass of wine, lie back in a warm tub und let her fǽngers do ze valking.”

  “So to speak.”

  She shrugged. “As I always say, vattever is floating your boat.”

  My turn to laugh
. “How long can that thing chase after her?”

  She shrugged. “I infused it mit a high dose of up-und-attum. But zat is not important right now. Right now, you go collect your fellah.”

  “Read you loud and clear, Auntie—Auntie what? If you’re not Hot-to-Trot Dot, what should I call you?”

  “You may call me Dorothea—but zat does not mean I am not Hot-to-Trot!” She nudged me with her elbow. “Vich reminds me—I haff another date mitt your broomsy team, to give them a lesson in Teutonic discipline. So, I must vamǿȭse—I must first get rid of ziss horrible strauzenberry odor!”

  Before Dot could vamǿȭse, though, Ashley drifted between us. “Aiiiiiiiiiyeeeeeeghhhh.”

  “I’m sorry, Ashley,” I said, “but—”

  Ashley held out the flat-as-an-ironed-shirt troll draped over her arm.

  “How schveet!” Dot turned to me. “She is saying she hates Dolly, but doesn’t think the troll deserves to die.”

  Ashley whispered “Aiiiiiiiiiyeeeeeeghhhh” into Dot’s ear.

  “I stand corrected. She is saying zat maybe for the stalking the troll should die…but not for loving Billy G.”

  Ashley looked at me. “Aiiiiiiiiiyeeeeeeghhhh.”

  Dorothea sniffled. “She also says he is the best man on Earth—und she is s forever in your debt for fixing their marriage.”

  Ashley reached out and combed a tangle from my damp hair with a long, pointed fingernail.

  Dot thrust out her hand. “I vill heal the filthy troll—but only after she promises not to bother you und your beloved Billy G. ever again.”

  Ashley handed the troll over. Dolly grunted and writhed until she managed to lift one hand.

  So she could give Ashley the bird.

  “You ungrateful little bitchenwhore!” Dot closed her hand. “It might take a vile for her to come round.”

  Ashley shook her head and frowned. I hugged her and thanked her for saving my life, which swept the frown away and replaced it with a smile. In that moment, I realized that despite her nearly transparent green skin and rotting teeth, she was kind of pretty. Maybe because of the way her hair’s always blowing. Or maybe because she’s really a good person.