“You’ll never catch me, Spamela!” A llama in a top hat cackled menacingly.

“Maybe not,” Pamela started, “But surely the rest of the Royal Gourd will quickly subdue you, Queasy James! You’re toast!”

“I’m not toast, I’m a llama! Anywhatnowfor, they’ll never catch me. Some Gourd you are. You won’t remember my name or what I look like.”

“Usually that’s the case, I’ll admit,” Pamela sighed and looked down, only to notice something curious about this warlock llama, “But how the cluck could I ever forget you when you aren’t wearing any underwear?”

“What?! Oh cockhamnit,” the llama looked down in shock, “Shit! How’d that happen? That’s so embarassing.”

“Yea, I’d be embarassed too. It also adds tasteless exposure to your list of charges.”

“Noooooooo!” the llama screamed as all of its skin quickly peeled off its muscles. Soon the stray llama pelt was flying around the air like a bloody, sentient sock.

Pamela gasped as the world around her quaked and an enormous pen burst up from the dirt, pushing aside buildings as its enormous inky tip glinted in the sunslight.

“Sweet mother of cock!” Pamela gasped.

Somewhere deep underground a single melodious click chimed, shaking the ground once more as a thicc, jet black glob of ink spurted from the tip of the pen and drooled its wet way down like lava erupting from a volcano. It was but a moment before sea of sticky, black ink was engulfing Pamela, suffocating her as it coiled around her like a bunch of wet, sticky serpents. Her limbs were purpling, not just from the stain fo the ink but indeed from the pressure. Everything went unconscious as ink covered her wide eyes.

***

FTKHhhhh

Pamela’s eyes cracked open. It was dark and musty.

FTKHhhhh

It wasn’t actually that musty, she’d just fallen asleep facefirst in her soupbowl. Her neck was killing her. The low hum of insects outside and inside the townhouse was calming, if not slightly irritating. Her head was spinning. Resting in an empty soupbowl seemed to have discombobulated her inner ears.

FTKHhhhh

Pamela squinted, noticing the foreign noise. It was coming from her bedroom window. She clambered to her feet and slipped over piles of dirty laundry. Out the perpetually grimy window she saw a figure standing in the shadows of the unkempt patch of dirt that was her backyard.

FTKHhhhh

They were throwing small, green specks of something at the window. Pamela watched them ricochet off into nothingness, lit for moments by the faintest glow of the moon.

“Hey!” she yelled vehemetly through the window.

FTKHhhhh

“Stop it!”

FTKHhhhh

“You’re gonna break the window stop it seriously!”

FTKHhhhh FTKHhhhh FTKHhhhh

“Ugh!!” Pamela squeezed her hands into fists, stormed away and kicked over a stray pile of unread Caldonian Crossbower’s TriWeekly.

FTKHhhhh

She trudged back over, slid the window open and attempted to load her standard issue Loyal Gourd slingshot, which immediately broke.

“Cockhamnit!”

“Shhhh!”

Pamela gaped in indignation. “Did you really just shush me?”

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“SHHH!”

“That was quite a loud shush. At least as loud as when I yelled, if not moreso.”

The figure shrugged.

“We don’t have any money. Go away.”

The figure slowly shook its head.

“We don’t have any food.”

Another head shake.

“We don’t have any alcohol.”

The figure sighed and gestured for Pamela to come down.

“Hen no I’m not coming down there! You wanna do any more harassing you climb right up here to my window yourself where you’re in easy kicking distance. And yes, those are poison brambles growing all up the side of the wall.”

The figure sighed, cracked their knuckles and waddled over to the wall. With furious bouts of clumsy clambering they eventually found themselves barely balancing on a thin sliver of shingle.

“Now,” Pamela started, “Who are you, and why can’t I see any detailson you as if you’re completely masked in shadow?”

“I had a dramatic lighting spell cast on me before I came here,” the figure started, “As well as a voice obfuscation spell, as you can undoubtedly tell.”

Pamela said she could indeed tell, for the figure’s voice was incredibly high pitched, giving off a bit of a cartoon hamster vibe.

“Would you like a frozen pea?”

“What?” Pamela blinked in confusion.

The figure produced a bag of frozen peas, offering it to Pamela. “They’re excellent for pelting people’s windows, as you’ve surely learned.”

“Surely,” Pamela nodded, pushing the bag away with a scowl. “Now stop beating off the bush and tell me what you’re harassing me for.”

“Excrete me?” the figure snorted, “Do you mean beating around the bush?”

“Yes, that’s what I said, beating off the bush.”

“Well,” the figure paused to chuckle to themself, “Erm, I’m here to talk to you about what exactly you think you’re doing.”

“Oh! Are you with the Loyal Gourd?”

“…Not exactly.”

“Well then how do you know what I’m doing?”

“We…well, we have eyes and ears everywhere, misirrah.”

“We? As in, the royal we, I assume?”

“No. I and my organization.”

“You have an organization, then?”

“Yes, but that’s not important.”

“An organization with eyes and ears everywhere, of which you are a member, that isn’t important? Forgive me if I find that hard to believe.”

“Well of course the Agency is important! What I meant was—”

“The Agency, you say? How vague for an organization. And what does the Agency do, exactly?”

“It’s not really any of your business what the Agency does and doesn’t do. I’m just—”

“Then why’d you bring it up?”

“Because you asked!”

“I most certainly did not. Just like I didn’t ask for you to come here and harass me, but here we are.”

“Pamela, what I’m trying to do, really, is to help you.”

“You know my name too?”

“I’d think that much would be obvious by now, but truly it’s beside the point. I just want to be sure you watch your back.”

“Watch my back? Is anyone behind me?!” Pamela turned around, staring into the darkness of her bedroom.

“I just meant to watch your back in general, Pamela, not right at this moment.”

“Whew, okay,” she turned back and wiped her brow. Then Pamela glanced over her shoulder for a second more, just to double check.

“Now, Pamela, you will meet tomorrow a man with a cleft chin. Don’t mind him. However, what you should mind is that all is not what it seems. You’ve put yourself in grave danger.”

“Grave danger? Well isn’t that exciting…How so? Is being a member of the Loyal Gourd not as terrible as I think it’ll be?”

“Oh, I assure you it’s much worse, but that’s not what I was talking about. I just came here to let you know that danger is afoot. Keep that in mind.”

“Danger is a foot?”

“Yes. Danger is afoot.”

Pamela pondered the phrase ‘danger is a foot’ quizically. Now not only had she the trouble of watching her back, but apparently also her feet. Or was it other peoples’ feet that was the true danger? Maybe it was both. Maybe the concept of feet alone was what was so dangerous. The foot was a powerful tool, Pamela had to admit. She pictured a gargantuan foot floating around, stomping on its enemies till nay was left of them but a bloody pulp. Hopefully she could stay on such a malevolent foot’s good side.

“Fascinating,” Pamela nodded at the figure, “So, is there anything else you’ve got to tell me?”

“Hmm…I don’t think so…ACK!”

Pamela had quickly kicked the figure off the side of the window. They landed splayed on their back, groaning in agony.

“Cluck’s sake! You could’ve let me climb back down!”

“Deal with it. I’m tired.”

Pamela played with her sticky window, struggling to slam it shut.

“Wait! Pamela! One more thing!”

“What?!”

“Beware the Syndicate!”

“Wear the what now?”

“Beware the Syndicate!”

“Beavers that vindicate?”

“Beware the Syndicate!”

“Bees wearing sinful capes?”

“Oh, nevermind!” the figure clambered to their feet and sulked off, grumbling inconsequential nothings.

Pamlea slammed the window shut with a force that shook the creaking walls.

“Pam!” shouted the muffled voice of her mother from downstairs, “You better not be sneaking out of here to abscond with a man!”

“I’m not! I was just closing the window!” Pamela rolled her eyes and plopped on her rock hard mattress.

Her mother sighed in disappointment. “Oh well. A mother can dream, can’t she?”

Pamela covered her face with a pillow.

“Pam!”

“What, mom?!”

“A mother can dream, can’t she?!”

“Go to bed, mom!”

“Oh, why don’t you go to bed!”

And thus, they both went to bed.