Green Garey huffed and walked after Pamela, only to realize he couldn’t find her anywhere, lost in the sea of drunk denziens.
“Hhey chup,” slurred a rotund, grisly older man as he teetered like he had a seesaw inside his stomache. “Don’t wworry aabout it he’s likee that with eeeverybody…Jus’ how he hisss what with the reducededd brain capacity from his transfffformationnnn and how now.”
“Aye, it figures.”
“I llike how you tallk, strranger, it suits you. Llike that dopey little drragon of yourrs.”
“Oh, ‘im? ‘is name ‘sn’t dopey, ’t’s Polly. ‘ts short fer Polyunsaturated.”
“Surrrre it is, chupppy, suuuuuuuuuure it is. You know, have you ever thought, I wwwanna make it big?”
“Yaaarg! Excrete me?”
“Oh don’t yyyyaaaaaarg me you old…old…you old yaaaaargermeister!” he patted Green Garey. “Say, hhave we met? You llook familiar.”
“Aye? Aye do not remember yer face.”
“Nno I’ve defffinitely seen you beffore…what’s your nname againn?”
“Green Garey, missirah.”
“Well Ggreen Garey I’mm Bleu Louie! Nicee to meet ya, if we haven’t met me befffore that is, hahh! What I was asssssking you wwwas—”
“Aye. Pleasin’ to be makin’ yer acquiessence, missirah. As ye know aye am a member of the Royal Gourd, and have no time for mangey scallopwagons with backhanded narrgotions.”
“Oh, well, aye aye then, hhhhah! I’ll be onn my way.”
Bleu Louie began to slosh off, his egglike body softening into an undercooked yolk in the process.
“Avast ye!” Green Garey reached out his left hand.
SHHHHHLLLLFFF
A bloodied butcher’s knife flung firecely through the air and sliced it off neatly. Blood spurted from Green Garey’s new stump.
“Hhfeathery shit!” ejaculated Bleu Louie.
“LOOKS LIKE BLEU LOUIE EJACULATED FEATHERY SHIT,” screeched the mouth man, “AND LOOKS LIKE GREEN GAREY LOST HIS LEFT HAND BY WAY OF AN UNKNOWN BUTCHER KNIFE. CRAZY WORLD WE LIVE IN, FOLKS, SAID MY FAVORITE CARTOON CHARACTER BACK WHEN I WAS A YOUNG LAD AND NOT A WARLOCK WHOSE BODY IS NOW SOLELY A MOUTH WITH LEGS. THAT CARTOON CHARACTER WAS RONALD RONALDSON RONALDSWORTH, THE RONALDING BIRD FROM EASTERN RONALDIA. HE HAD THE FUNNIEST VOICE, THAT OLD PIECE OF CHUPPERWARE.”
Green Garey rolled his eyes, then rolled them again more vigorously in the opposite direction as he remembered his newly severed limb.
“Don’t you worrry, chuppppy, I know somebody who can fix youu up, eeeasy!”
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Green Garey pause to consider this notion. It could easily be a back alley deal to knab one of his inner ears. Then again, his blood was draining from his severed vestibule and his cognition was suffering, so he relented and allowed Bleu Louie to drag him over to a shady, chubby woman clad in tightly wrapped purple robes. She wore a dark mask with a long, clawlike nose. She brandished a thicc, spiky wand that glistened in the magical tungsten of the false torch lighting that invisible illuminated the entire area.
“Yaaarg! A witch! A witch!” Green Garey puttered, “Thank cock! Aye am glad to know maye fixing will be free of the pain and aaaargony of normal surgery, and replaced by a pain an aarrrgony all of its own!”
“Indeed,” she cooed, brandishing her wand like a hot cattle brand. “Now, what’s your budget?”
“Avast! Come arrrgain?”
“Money. How much of it can you give me?”
“Yaaarg…have but three chickensfeed in me pockets…”
“We can make that twerk, but you won’t be getting any special attachments or anything. If you could fork over five chickensfeed I could give you a fork attachment. And if you could grapple with giving me ten chickensfeed I could give you a grappling hook attachment. They’re very in vogue. You never know when they’ll come in handy. Sorry for the pun I just I couldn’t help myself,” the lady giggled.
“Aye’m fine with the just the hook, tharrnks.”
Ten minutes later, Green Garey was ambling around the crowds with a silver hook for a left hand. Pamela soon spotted him and rushed over.
“Paarrmela! There ye arrrrrr!”
“Green Garey what happened to your hand?”
“Aye, it was the strangest thing methinketh AYE’ve ever seen. A butcher knife flew through ‘e air from cock knows where and sliced it clean off!”
Pamela looked down, sketching a nude form. “Let me know when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”
“Me parrrgtner! Why AYE wouldn’t not not lie to ye!”
“Save the triple negatives for someone more gullible, or more easily confused, Green Garey. How dense do you think I am? Next you’ll tell me you went to a back alley witch to get that hook put in its place. Preposterous.”
“Aye! That’s exaaaaargctly what harrpened!”
Pamela sketched a plump ass cheek. “Oh my cock, Green Garey. I hope you at least put down enough for a grappling hook attachment.”
“Look, Parrmela, AYE met this lad, name was Bleu Louie, an ‘e asked me if I wanted to make it big, and then woosh! Off with me hand! Aye didn’t have tAYEme to considarrr fancy hooks.”
“Bleu Louie? Green Garey that just sounds like you quickly thought up a name on the spot using whatever the hen naming convention your family used when naming you!”
“AYE swear on me life! On me death! And on me death’s life and me life’s death!”
Pamela’s eyes widened. Those were some pretty hamning things to swear on. She flicked her pen across the paper, etching light pubic hairs. “I’m still quite skeptical.”
Green Garey sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets. Immediately remembering his new hook hand, he jumped as he saw the huge hole he had cut through his left pant leg. Then he puzzled over a small business card that fluttered out of it. He bent down and snatched it, giving it a quick glance.
BLEU LOUIE - GAMBLER EXTRAORDINAIRE
There was a small blue pig printed under the type. He flipped it over to see drunk handwriting covered in inky blotches, in which there were two words and a strange acronym.
Seared Briscuit, MIB
Green Garey wondered why Bleu Louie had reverse pickpocketed this cheesy business card with what appeared to be a request for an entree in his pocket. Then, he realized he had exactly what he needed to regain Pamela’s trust.
“Parrmela! Avast! Parrrmela!”
Pamela looked up from a detailed labia and watched as a drunk woman floundered into Green Garey, sending the business card flapping through the air and into nonexistence.
“What is it, Green Garey? Any new lies for me?”
“Yaaarg! ‘e gave me a business card but that lady bumped into me and AYE lost it!”
“Very probable, Green Garey, very probable.”
Green Garey pulled himself together and walked up beside Pamela, huffing as his sliced, fraying pant leg swayed in the winds of the passersby.
“So, Parrrmela,” Green Garey asked, “What were ye up to while AYE was…indisposed?”
“Oh, just looking around at the ostriches in line to race today. There were a couple of new ones: Roasted Limburger, Pad Thai, and…uh what was it…oh! Seared Briscuit.”
“Seared Briscuit?”
“Yes. I know, ostrich racers are quite odd in their naming conventions.”
“Parrmela, Seared Briscuit were written on Bleu Louie’s business carrrrrgggrd!”
“Green Garey if you don’t quit it with this Bleu Louie nonsense I might have to request the Gourd provide me with a new partner.”
Green Garey gulped. Word traveled fast around Caldonia, and rumor was it that Dorma’s death had been far from accidental. He felt sweat drip down his right temple and tickle his neck.
“You okay, Green Garey?”
“Aye, matey.”
“How about we get out of here and look for some leads? I’m not feeling quite lucky in here.”
“AYE. AYE concur.”