Chapter 1 #2
“I am so very sorry, Gustav,” she profusely apologized, meaning it with every drop of the Magic of the Ancient Brown Witches running through her veins. “None of this is your fault, and I have no right to…”
“No, it is I who am sorry, Glo. I didn't even think about what time it was where you were or that anyone anywhere else might be facing the same crisis. Please accept my…."
"No need to go any farther, my friend, just let me… ARRGGGHHH!!!"
Screaming at the top of her lungs as she was smacked on the side of the head with a wave of angry Magic the size of a giant tsunami, Glo flew off the cushioned stool her beautifully bodacious booty was precariously perched upon, rolled ass over teakettle through the air, saw her beloved Grinch scrunchie fly in the opposite direction and caught sight of the smirk on her Familiar’s face precisely one half of one second before her pleasingly plump behind–and all of her back–hit the wall on the farthest side of her office. Unceremoniously and incredibly lacking what little bit of grace she actually possessed, the sassiest Witch of the Brown Family Coven of Witches slid down the wall and hit her head right in the middle of the small wooden stool she had used when she was a little girl to reach the cookie jar–and still used to that day.
And the humiliation didn’t stop there.
Dazed and confused and unable to stop the inevitable, no sooner had her noggin made contact with the hard, unforgiving oak of that precious heirloom than did her feet fall forward, her knees bend in two opposite directions, and her badonkadonk gave in to gravity. Landing in a position that defied explanation or description, Glo barely had time to inhale before Hillary K. Hippo performed an aerial pike somersault from the top of that very special antique cherrywood bookcase that would have made Simone Biles proud.
Of course, the Pygmy Hippo stuck the landing with otherworldly precision and a fair bit of rage. Unfortunately, it was in the middle of Glo’s back.
Planting both of the four-toed webbed feet of her hind legs into the tender flesh right above Glo's booty with what could only be called extreme prejudice, Hillary K. Hippo pushed up on her tippy-toes and dug those hooves, that were more like fingernails, in as hard as she could. As if that wasn't enough, the nearly thousand-year-old Pygmy Hippopotamus with pretty pink skin, big blue eyes, and the longest eyelashes of all her siblings, who just happened to be loaded with enough Magic to power a small country for a century or so grunted, bellowed, snorted, and honked, "What have I told you about zapping me with that snap of yours?"
“You said….”
“How many times have I told you what would happen if you zapped me with that blasted snap of yours?”
“About a….”
“Why do you continue to tempt Fate by zapping me with that snap of yours?”
“I don’t….”
“I’ll tell you why you continue to tempt Fate and zap me with that damn, blasted, Goddess-forsaken snap of yours.”
“Why don’t you…?”
"You do it because somewhere in that hard head of yours, you, Gloria Angelica Brown, think that I, Hillary K. Hippo, will forget what I have told you at least one-million-three-hundred-and-forty-six-thousand-five-hundred-and-eleven times. You think that I will not remember adamantly explaining in great detail that I will knock you upside the head, tap dance on your back and sing Zippity Doo Dah at the top of my lungs. Well, hold on, Sweetheart, ‘cause, I’mma gonna get tuned up. The gorgeous, chubby, Pygmy Hippo is about to…”
And that was as much as Glo could take. It was bad enough when the phone in her brain started ringing at three-thirty-three AM. It was worse when it continued to ring and ring and ring. It was worse still when at three-thirty-nine AM, the damn thing was still ringing, and that time it was Gustav Snowflake, one of her favorite people, make that Elf in the whole wide world.
As if that wasn’t enough, she seriously thought it couldn’t get any worse until she yelled at the sweet Elf who had never done anything but be really, really, really good at his job and a damn fine friend to her for a really long time, but damn it all to Hell in a dirty handcart with a bum wheel–it had gotten so much worse.
It had gone from bad to worse, varoomed and zoomed right past the worst, and landed smack dab in the center of holy fuckinations bad. And holy fuckinations bad had only happened once before in all the many years of Glo’s life, and that very inauspicious occasion just happened to be the only other time in all their years together that Hillary K. Hippo had gotten the better of the Brown Witch of Peace, Protection, and Eternal Love.
“This will not go unanswered!” Glo roared.
With her left cheek planted so far into the evergreen shag of the throw rug Auntie Dorthea, Dot for short, Brown had made for Glo's hundredth birthday that she could only see out of her right eye–she just let it all go and went balls to the wall Witchy crazy. Her right eye, the only one she could see out of, was so full of yarn fuzzies hellbent on dancing the jig that it felt as if a thousand mosquitoes were trying to poke their way into her brain–but that did matter one tiny iota. Glo had to do something she rarely, if ever, did–she had to engage in physical exertion with the likes of Thor, the Norse God of Thunder, and his merry band of friends.
In one powerful move that would’ve impressed Mr. Universe and happened in less than the blink of an eye, she slammed the flat of her palms into the long green shag on either side of her ample breasts with such force that her whole body shook. Pointing her elbows straight up toward the ceiling as if they were springs, she summoned all the strength in her five-foot-two-inch body and more than a little of the Magic she reserved for her once-a-year jog to the coffee shop and prepared to use the muscles in her arms like they were hydraulic-powered. Inhaling deeply, something she'd been told by every trainer she'd ever fired would help with focus, she pushed her toes against the hardwood floor not covered by rugs or carpet with such fury that a pleasing pop and crack of the joint filled the air, and helped her get the leverage she needed.
Shoving with all her might, she forced all the breath from her lungs and grunted, "Oorah!” With such vim and vigor that her voice was still echoing long after she’d stopped, she was about to be airborne without a broom.
Doing the only push-up she could ever remember completing in all of her days, Glo just kept going. It was exactly how she’d imagined being shot out of a cannon would feel–and it was freaking awesome. Popping up and back, the outstandingly unrelenting momentum created by Magic, muscle, and rage was unlike anything she could’ve imagined–and stopping proved to only be achieved with exactly eleven shuffling steps backward.
No, it wasn’t how she’d seen it in her mind, but Glo was not to be deterred, and she would not stop.
Continuing in reverse, she formulated a new plan on the fly and knew exactly where to go. Traversing her home was something she could do in her sleep. As a matter of fact, she’d done exactly that approximately ten minutes earlier when the first call came into her brain at precisely three-thirty-three AM.
Aiming for the only empty wall in the entire house, the wall where the solid oak corner comb bookcases made by her Auntie Druantia, Dru for short, the Brown Witch of Trees and Plants, named after the Celtic Goddess of the same designation, was handcrafting, she poured on the speed. As luck would have it, that was the exact moment that Hilly realized what was about to happen and started squealing at no less than one-hundred-and-fifteen decibels while spitting out words at a speed only Glo's Witchy ears could comprehend.
“Put me down! Put me down! Put me down right this minute! Don’t make this worse than it already is! Put me down, Gloria Angelica Brown, or I swear to the Great Goddess of All that I will… OOOMMMPPPHHH!!”
Smiling so wide her cheeks actually ached almost as bad as her shoulders hurt where the sharp, pointed tips of Hillary's hooves/fingernails had most assuredly slashed through the cotton of her favorite Grinch T-shirt and were ripping her tender, freckled shoulders to pieces, Glo just kept pushing. Wheezing and clawing, Hillary got the equally long, sharp, and pointed tips of the hooves on her back feet involved, and that only pissed off Glo all the more.
With those impenetrable nails digging into the pleasing plump cheeks of her well-rounded ass, the Brown Witch of Peace, Protection, and Eternal Love got so mad, so angry, and just so plain pissed off that for the first time in her very long life she saw red. Reaching over her head with her left hand, she latched onto the top of Hillary's right arm and dug her fingers into the Pygmy Hippo's armpit. Using that iron grip as leverage, she jerked with the might of one supremely furious Brown Witch until her feverously flummoxed Familiar was hanging by one arm in front of her face.
Opening her mouth to give Hillary K. Hippo a piece of her mind, two things happened at exactly the same moment:
Shrieking with a fair amount of horror and what she was sure was more than a smidgen of awe, Gustav squealed, "Glo, are you alive! Should I call 321? Do you need the Witch Warden? Isn't that your Auntie or another Brown Witch? What about the Water Dragon Fire Service? I can call 125, but I don't think Santa is available! Tell me what to do!”
And, not to be outdone…
The perfectly painted red door at the front of her home swung open and in came all the happiness and joy of her best friend in all the whole world, Em Aithnea MacIvor, and the Fey Dragon’s boyfriend, Tech Genius extraordinaire, Nostradamus. In her usual sunshine, daffodils, and lovely way, Em sing-songed, “Helllooooo, my beautiful people! Never fear! We are here to save the day! Noss and I have created…. Oh, wow!” Stopping to chuckle, the sound filled with so much delight and joyfulness that Glo almost–just almost–snickered along, Em added with a cheery giggle, “Well, hell, Noss, looks like we’re just in time to save Hilly’s life.”
Setting her backpack, huge tote bag, and what, from the corner of Glo's eye, looked like a small whiteboard, the five-foot-five-inch tall, curvy woman with chestnut curls that brushed her shoulders and hazel eyes that always sparkled with laughter and mischief, closed the distance from the foyer to where the Brown Witch was just about to throttle her Familiar in one, single second. Carefully loosening Glo's grip on Hill's upper arm and armpit, she handed the Pygmy Hippo to her boyfriend before turning back to Glo and winking. “Okay, so I’m guessin’ you already know that Mistletoe plants all over the world are suddenly dying.” Holding up two fingers, she continued, “That Hillary K. Hippo is not being much help, and…” She added her ring finger to the mix. “…Gustav was not the first person to call you at this unGodessly hour of the morning to inform you, as I mentioned before, Mistletoe all over the planet is dying."
Folding all her digits but the index finger, Em continued without missing a beat. "Like dying with a capital D. No rhyme. No reason. No cause in sight. One minute, they are beautifully green with white flowers and berries, and the next, they are dried up, brown, crumbly, and in some cases blowin' in the wind, and Bob Dylan wasn't singin' a word."
“I do, but how do…?”
"Oh, girl," Em happily scoffed with a wave of her hand as she turned around and kept talking. "When are you gonna start checking Ghougle News? My Head Boo in Charge, none other than Noss the Great, keeps all that stuff up to date to the very second, twenty–four–hours–a–day, seven–days–a–week, and then some. You know how Gargoyles are. They don’t need much sleep."
“Well, I knew y’all created that computer doo-dad, search thingy, but I had no clue that it…”
“That computer doo–dad, search thingy?” Slapping her right palm over her heart, she smiled and shook her head before continuing, "That is why I love you so very much, Glo. You seriously just called the best invention since sliced bread, chocolate, and peanut, and your Granny Esta's blueberry scones, a computer doo–dad search thingy? Ghougle is revolutionary. It is a search engine, a database, and a one-stop information shop for all things Magical, Mystical, Paranormal, and Supernatural. There never has been, and there never will be anything like it," Em barked with laughter. "You crack me up, Glo. You really do. Ghougle is on the Bright White or Dark Purple–depending on a person’s preference–Magical web where only those of us who are Special, Blessed, and stupendously Magical can access it.”
“I get it. Please don’t think I’m…”
“Oh, we know you’re not being nasty or dismissive,” Em cooed. “Noss and I love you more than those little, mini chocolate peanut butter cups straight outta the freezer. Right, Nossy?”
“That’s right, Sweetcheeks,” the Gargoyle agreed, his deep, rumbling voice filling the room as he grinned in Em’s direction with pure love shining deep in his dark, brown eyes.
“Right back atcha, Rock Man,” Em giggled.
Picking up all her things, the Fey Dragon went on, “Oh, my dear, dear Witchy Poo, I see I’m gonna have to drag you kickin’ and screamin' into the twenty-first century. This is the digital age, after all. You can't just let it pass you by. We just gotta get you and all your duties as the Brown Witch of Peace, Protection, and Eternal Love automated right here and right now. It will make your life so much easier and way less crazy and kooky.”
Moving so fast that Glo saw only a blur, Em put her backpack on the stool and her massive tote bag on the huge, leather office chair the Witch never used. Then she picked up the small dry–erase board from where she'd placed it on the floor and looked around, snapping her head from the left to the right so quickly that her shoulder-length chestnut curls with natural, light purple highlights swung back and forth like a mini cape.
When she obviously didn’t find what she was looking for, Em shook her head and offhandedly whispered, “Well, we will just have to make do.”
Holding up the whiteboard as high as she could reach, the Fey Dragon looked over at Glo, winked one more time, and then tossed the board into the air. Glittering Enchanted confetti floated from her fingertips as the tinkling of silver bells danced on the airwaves a split second before that dry-erase board turned into a massive–seriously huge, like close to as large as a jumbotron that hangs over the middle of a professional basketball court–Magical display floating in midair.
Eight very large computer screens created the border for an even bigger one right in the center displaying a map of the world. Before Glo could take it all in and formulate a question that didn't sound like she'd lost her mind, Em did a Magical snap of her own, and flashing red lights covered the map.
Turning to face her, the Fey Dragon explained, "So, Noss and I whipped up this handy dandy tracking map when we received the first report of the dying plants, and I realized that not just any plants were dying, but your Holy Mistletoe." Waving toward the screen like Vanna White turning those letters, she continued, “Everywhere you see a blinking light, a Mistletoe crop has been killed.”
“Holy shit,” Glo gasped. “It’s so much worse than…”
Unable to finish her thought as all the adrenaline of the last five minutes drained from her body, the Brown Witch of Peace, Protection, and Eternal Love slowly shook her head and, with her palm flat on the top of her desk, just barely stayed standing. "How can…? I don't under… This makes…."
“You are right, my dear friend, and to answer your questions, I have no clue how this can be happening, but it is. I don’t understand either, but we will damn sure figure it out. And I agree, this makes absolutely no sense, but again, we will figure it all out. You can count on it.”
Opening her mouth to thank her friend for speaking when she couldn’t, the calls she’d been ignoring came rushing back with a loud and uproarious vengeance as her Magic waned in light of her confusion. Then, on cue and to emphasize the state of the disaster she faced, every light on Em and Noss’s map flashed in time with the ringing, dinging, and binging in her mind.
Looking at Em, then at Noss, and finally at Hillary K. Hippo, whose brilliant blue eyes were bigger than she'd ever seen them, Glo did the only thing she could: she got to work–and that meant taking charge and giving everyone a task. Gaze going back to her friend, she asked, "Em, can you help me answer these calls?" Tapping her temple, she added, "They're all coming in telepathically."
“You know it,” Em cheered. “Gotcha covered. Everybody always says we share a brain. Time for that shit to come in handy.” Moving her tote from the big, leather office chair, she sat down and looked over the opposite shoulder. “Hey, Nossy, can you make the coffee? We’re gonna need tons of the good stuff. Oh! And Hills, my sweet ball of perfect Pinkness, can you get us some cookies, pastries, candy, and anything else sugary you can find? We're gonna need jet fuel, if ya’ know what I mean.”
“I sure do,” Hillary smiled. “Anything for you, Em.”
Before Glo could ask Hilly when the Body Snatchers had come and replaced her nasty attitude with one of pure delight, Em touched her left ear and happily chirped, “You’ve reached the Home Office of Glo Brown, bestest Brown Witch of Peace, Protection, and Eternal Love. This is Em MacIvor. How may I make you smile today?”
“I’ll get the java goin’,” the Gargoyle nodded, taking a smirking Hill with him as he headed to the kitchen.
“Thank you, Nostradamus,” Glo smiled, gratitude written all over her face. Then tuning back into the crazy beeping in her head, she took a page from Em’s book, tapped her temple, and answered, “Glo Brown here, how can I help?”