Pandemonium is not about dancing Pandas

"I'm not screaming!" The beefy guard screams as he runs for cover, this being a desk which he hurdles in a single leap landing with a sufficiently slimy plop. "Ribbbith!" the frog croaks.

The toady guard hops, runs, scrambles out of the way as the other guards start bolting in order to avoid Ismie's wrath.

Someone is shouting "Witch!' as guards continue being zapped into oddly colored amphibians.

Ismie stands in the midst of the chaos calmly pointing a slender wood wand at various guards, giving the wand a roll and saying things like "tree frog," "mud dabber," or "rainbow puckerer."

This goes on for about an hour.

"It was just three minutes."

The end result, about 100 frogs, toads and newts sitting in various positions of utter confusion or sticking to the walls in much the same state.

"There are only 20, I counted."

I look at Ismie reproachfully. She shrugs.

"Fine, there are 80 invisible toads and it took forever to get it done."

"Now what?"

"I suppose we find the key and get your friends out of jail." Ismie looks around.

I look around.

"What happened to the guard's clothes?" I ask.

Ismie stops cleaning her wand and looks up.

"Oops," She says.

"Oops?" I ask.

"Side effect of the spell, I'm afraid" Ismie replies, shrugging her beautiful face creasing with a lopsided grin.

"Side effect?" I try to shrug and do my own lop-sided grin.

Ismie giggles as my grin looks more like that of a drunken clown smiling with most of his teeth gone.

"Well, it's a matter of propriety." Ismie settles herself carefully on one of the few pieces of furniture still intact and right side up.

"Go on," I say looking around for something to perch on, failing to find anything leaning against a wall. An angry ribbit explodes as I almost squash a multicolored Gecko Frog. He sticks out his tongue at me and hops further down the wall.

It takes Ismie awhile to stop laughing.

So I laugh as well.

"You don't want these guys to return to human shape naked."

I shudder.

"Exactly."

Not a one of them had been what I would call handsome.

"Ith amth noth ugly!" declares the toad who had been the shorter guard.

We look at him.

"Neverth-mindth," The toad says as he scuttles away.

"How long will they be like this?' I ask.

"Oh about a day or two, wide casting seldom can last more than that."

I nod my head as if to say I understood any of it.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!!!"

We look around to find a thin young man in finery standing at an open inner door. He is kind of cute if you like your men skinny, no lanky- no, rail thin- yes, rail-thin.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!!"

We look around, again, to find another man skinny but with an enormous pot belly (which looks very odd indeed) standing opposite the rail-thin fop. This one is dressed in traditional star-gazer robes.

"She just called me a fop!" The Fop yelled.

"She just inferred that I am a stargazer!" The pot-bellied dud yelled back.

"Don't you mean dude?" Ismie says.

"What?" I say.

"You wrote dud not dude, don't you mean dude?" Ismie says as the smile fights to reclaim her face.

"What is a dude?" I say.

"Probably same as a dud, but more laid back," Ismie replies.

I shrug.

"Hello! We are standing right here!" The Fop shouts flapping his arms.

"Does she always do this?" the Dud asks Ismie.

"Yes, and I find it very charming," Ismie says as I blush.

"Well, okay then." the Dud says.

"HELLO? I AM STILL STANDING RIGHT HERE!!!" the fop yells.

"That you are," Ismie says.

"WELL?"

"Well, what?" I ask.

For a moment, the fop looks apoplectic then he calms down and points at himself.

I raise my eyebrow.

He jabs himself in the chest.

I lower my eyebrow.

"What his highness is saying is that since he is the Duke that you two should curtsy," the dud interjects.

"EXACTLY!" the fo- I mean the Duke says and crosses his arms.

"He yells too much," I say to Ismie.

"He's always been like this ever since he was a little piglet," Ismie says.

I raise both of my eyebrows.

Ismie giggles.

"Figure of speech," She adds.

"Witches." the dud says.

"I am not a dud (whatever that is)," the dud says as he turns on me. "I happen to be a wizard." He whips out a stargazer hat and plants it on his bald head.

"Balding! I am just balding-not bald!"

"Whoa calm down dude," I say before glancing at Ismie to confirm I am using dude right. She gives me the thumbs up.

"I am-" he begins, but I interrupt him.

"You don't look like a wizard," I say.

"How would you know?"

"I know a wizard," I say "His name is Ralph."

"His name is Ralph." the dude says in a very condescending fashion. "What makes him a wizard but not me?"

"He doesn't wear Stargazer robes and a pointy hat with a moon on it."

"This is what wizards wear."

"Nope," I say.

"What?"

"I said nope. Wizards wear blue jeans and Van Halen Tee Shirts."

The dude looks at me, mouth open and then at Ismie who shrugs. I know my wizards.

"You're insane." he says.

"What?"

"I went to the wizard school in Stoval Korg and no wizard there wears blue beans and Van Hellven Cee Shirts!"

"Blue jeans."

"What?"

"They are called Blue Jeans, dude," I shake my head. "No one wears beans even if they are blue."

He just gapes at me.

"Look, she's a witch and she doesn't wear a stargazer robe or rags."

He looks at Ismie for a long while before whipping out his own wand.

Ismie points her wand at him and says "Disarmification."

The dude's wand turns into a turnip.

He looks at it and curses.

"Nicely done," I say.

"Thank you." Ismie gives me a flourish and a half bow from her spot on the table.

The dude reaches into his robe whips out another wand which also turns into a turnip.

He stares at it in shock.

"Spell duration," Ismie says sweetly.

I clap.

The dude sighs, shoves the turnip back into his robe, looks around, walks over to an upturned chair, correct its position then sits down.

"So what do you call yourself?" Ismie asks.

"What?" he glances at her and shrugs. "I am Rupert the magnificent."

"Not Magnificient?"

Rupert looks embarrassed.

"I'm confused," I put my two bits in.

"It's a wizard thing," Rupert says. "Until I win a wizarding duel, I am just magnificent."

"Figures" I reply. Wizards are very odd.

"HELLO!?!" The Duke yells.

"Oh sorry, your worthlessness," Ismie says turning back to him.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?!"

"I turned all your guards into amphibians," Ismie says with a shrug, I love how she shrugs. She glances back to give me a wink.

"Hey! Cut that out!" the Duke yells at me. "Why would you do that?"

"They were being rude," Ismie says turning back to him.

"You have no respect for authority!" the Duke says. "You should be put in a cell until you do."

"Oh?"

"Yes."

"What are you going to do about it, little man."

Wait, I just said that!

The Duke holds up his hand, waggles his fingers. He has a nasty smug smile on his face.

A fresh flood of heavily armored men charges into the room around him.

"Oh. That is something."

I say. I look at Ismie.

"I got this," Ismie says.

She hops to her feet, does a flip off the table and whips her wand into a full arc as she does it.

It is a thing of grace and beauty as this beautiful athletic woman executes this perfect flip while magic streams out in rainbow colors across the room.

"Oh Fuke," Says the first heavily armored man.

Later, we find the keys on the armored man at the back of the room.

He's not a man anymore, he is now a wonderfully cute little black and white bear cub.

"That's a panda," Ismie says.

"Oh." It's true the panda sits inside the suit of the armor like his fellow's- sufficiently contained cages.

"IT'S NOT FAIR!!!" the Duke wails. Turns out he's actually 15 and not 16 and it shows. He looks quite old for his age. Rupert pats him on his back. After what Ismie did, he hasn't even tried anything even after his main wand turned back.

One Get out of Jail Card Later

Together we stood in front of the Duke's Jailhouse.
"So this is it?" Ismie asks.
"Yep," Me, ever prolific.
"It looks dirty." 
"You've never been here?"
"Nope." I am not the only one.
"I just figured that- since you frequent that Inn..."
"Remember who you are talking to," Ismie says, big wink, hip nudge.
"Ah," I mock slap my forehead. "The Witch."
"Damn Skippy." Ismie says as she turns, taps one perfect finger against her lovely lips looking thoughtful.
"Nice."
"Thanks," I try.
"Shall we go in?" Ismie says as she waves her other hand and the doors open wide.



On the inside, we encounter the Duke's guards. They leer at us. 
I try leering back. It doesn't work. Apparently, you have to be a swarthy, mostly unwashed man to leer.
"Hey!"
"What?"
"That's hardly fair!" One guard declares, "I bathe often enough."
"How many times is often?" I ask sweetly.
"3 or 4 times a week."
"Ewww." 
"No matter," Ismie says to them. "We are here to fetch the prisoners."
"Oh you are, are you?" The beefiest one says as he steps forward, planting his large fists on his hips.
"Yes," Ismie says cocking her own hip out before settling her right hand on it.
"Well, You will have to pay all their fines." The man says.
"Nope," Ismie says.
"Yep," I add, not really knowing what else to say.
Ismie looks at me.
"Sorry," I add, blushing, "forgot my lines."
"Tut, tut," Ismie says, "Practice makes perfect."
"Hey!" A short man pushes past the large swarthy- decidedly unwashed man with the large hands. "What's-"
"I told you I bathe!" The Gaurd says throwing up a finger to point at me.
"Shaddup!" The shorter man yells in the guard's face... well, he yells up at the man's face.
"Look!" The shorter man says turning to face me. "I am not that short."
Ismie and I look down at him.
"You two are unnaturally tall!" he adds.
Ismie and I look down at him.
"There's a fine and you have to pay it or else!" He says.
"Or else what?" Ismie looks down at him.
"You two bimbos can take a hike before we toss you in with the other vermin."
Someone in the cells behind the guards starts yelling "I knew you were the rat!"

"Did you just call me a Bimbo, you little toad?" Ismie says softly, although the way she says it might as well have been a banshee scream.
"Yes, I did," The Shorter man says and gives me two fingers.
Ismie looks at him for a moment then turns him into a toad.
The large swarthy guard screams in terror.
"I am not screaming!" the screaming guard yells at me.
"Why is everything so big?" says the toad. "Oh, nuts."

But I digress....

People may have thought I died or lied about dying (which I did)
The truth is stranger than fiction. My writer decided that writing poetry was more important than continuing this story for a farking month!
But I digress (glares up at the writer) {yes, I am glaring at you, deal with it}
Now I am a frog....
Hang on. (you think this is funny?)
Now I am on a frog...
sighs (really mature)
The problem with a fairy tale is there is this unseen narrator who tells my story. He has his own life and troubles and occasionally remembers mine. He tells me he's lonely and I tell him that he has me.
He tells me sometimes it's not enough.
I cry (Hey!)
I feel bad (better) for him and we agree that we will do better in the future
Then a week goes by and I figure out that my magic book has not recorded a single thing.
(narrators!)

I am not dead, nor am I a frog or on a frog or a cat.
I am not a cat
I am (stop it, okay that was a little funny)
I am walking down the road with Ismie and she is giving me this weird look.
"How long have we been walking down this road?" she asks.
"I think we've been walking for at least a month."
"Oh."
"It's the narrator, he got distracted."
Ismie gives me a long look. Stops then looks around, we are maybe ten paces from the Parasite Inn and about 200 paces from the jailhouse.
"Well tell him to get on with it. I have my own fairytale to get back to."
"He can hear you."
"Right. He is kind of cute. I like his tee shirt." Ismie pushes a toe into the dirt and blinks up at the sky bashfully.
She's adorable. I wonder if that would work for me.
"No, not really," Ismie says then takes my arm.
"Can you see the narrator?"
"You can't?"
"Uh-" I look around. "Nope."
"But you just glared up at him a second or two ago."
"Well, I just assume he's up there somewhere mocking me like an angry god."
"This is why bad things happen to you." Ismie gives me a hug. "Besides, he's over there."
"Over where?"
"Oh, right. Not there," Ismie points at an empty field. "He's over there just beyond the fourth wall."
"Oh, Now I totally don't see that at all," I reply staring harder at the empty field.
"I guess you have to be a witch," Ismie says then looks thoughtful.
"I guess."
The two very beautiful women walk on down the road towards the jailhouse.
"See?" Ismie says "he susceptible to the charms of a witch."
"Right."
Sometimes I wonder if I am in the right Fairytale.

The other version of the story was better

The Parasite Inn Barkeep appears at our table.
"I know you."
Ismie looks up in surprise, then she shrugs.
"Of course you know me," Ismie replies.
"No, I know you!" and then he points at me.
"I was in here a couple of nights ago," I said. I give him my best smile.
"You're trouble." He says.
I shuffle nervously. I glance at Ismie.
"It wasn't my fault, I tried to warn them, but the dwarf, the ogre, the prince, the-the ogre's wife she-"
"Nah, I like the other version better," the barkeep announces and cracks a big toothy smile.
I gawk?
Gape?
"I like the other version better as well," Ismie says.
I glance at her and try to discreetly shake my head.
"What other version?" The reassembled gnome Sprogsgutt asks.
Dammit.
"Where's the harm in that?" Ismie says and pokes me in the ribs.
So I jumped.
Ismie laughs.
The Barkeep laughs.
I find myself standing with a lute in my hands on a stage I didn't realize was even there. A spotlight falls on me.
Before I can form a coherent thought to protest, I strum the lute, then sing.
"Well, I'll tell ya!"
No, no, no, no, no, no!
"I love this bar."
Tobias Keith hates me.
I mean if I knew who Tobias Keith was, he'd hate me.
"No!" The Barkeep yells. "The other song!"
Nuts.
"I'm not as good as I once was?"
"That's the one!" The Barkeep yells.
Nuts.
Then Anne the waitress pops up at my side.

Me: "She said-"

Anne: "I've seen you in here before."

Me:"I've been in here a time or three!"

Anne:"Hello my name is Princess Trinity.
meet my sisters Joela and Bethany.
We're all feeling kind of bored tonight
and you're the only knight in this place
if you're up for a rescue, then we can put a big
fairy tale reward on your face!"

Me: "This in not going to end well."

Anne: "That's not the song."

There's a growl from the bar.

Me: "Lady! I might be wrong!
but I am not as good as I once was
I am going to need some more beer now
not long ago I was having a good time
I am not committing another crime!"

Anne stops looks at the barkeep, gives a shrug before slipping off the stage.
I take a deep sigh of relief, I can now escape.
The Ismie sweeps me off my feet and sings.

Ismie: "I could put my enemies down low
I could say them words real slow
I can probably love you all tonight
I might be brave enough
I am not as good as I once was
but I am evil when the going gets tough."

I am caught somewhere between blushing and screaming in abject betrayal.

There is applause.
Ismie, not you too.

Me: "I still hang out at this bar with my pal Ismie.
I've known her since we turned me into a from last summer.
Little did I know that it would be such a bummer."

Ismie: "Last night we had a few drinks,
got into a fight based on matrimonial demands!

Me:"Then things just got way out of hand!

Ismie: "I just had a great idea!"

Me: "Is this part of the song?"

Ismie: "I'm not as good as I once was,
but I can still spin a spell or two,
I'm sorry about the whole frog thing,
besides, that wasn't me, it was Witch Matilda Bleu!"

Me: "I'm listening, tell me true!"

Ismie: "Do you trust me, Charlie?"
Me: "Are we still singing?"
Ismie: "We can if you still want to."
Me: "The Crowd is getting ugly."
Ismie: "Hang on, I've got it all well in hand."
Me: "Could we just leave it to the backup band?"

Ismie: "Well, I am not as evil as I once was,
I could have toasted this place,
I would have roasted that guy's face!
My how the years have flown
done it all in a silken ballroom gown,
I could really hold my own!
But if they really want a song tonight
they aren't getting it without a barroom
fight.
Now quick as a cat let's get out of sight!"

and then we turned invisible.
All hell broke loose, chairs are flying, table smashing. At one point Anne, the cute waitress comes by wailing away at Sproggsgutt with a frying pan. shards of ceramic gnome are flying in all directions. There are elves fighting orcs, there are dwarves fighting elves, there are orcs fighting each other.
Ismie is sitting in her chair next to me laughing into her hands trying and succeeding at not making a noise. I am ducking around next to her as the chaos continues.
"When did all these people show up?"
Ismie considers for a long moment.
"I think it was in the middle of the second verse.

Then Duke Ivan's men charge in and arrest everyone in sight.
We remain invisible.

After they all are gone, we reappear.
"Well, that went well, don't you think?"
"I dunno...."
Ismie pats me on the arm.
"Let's go turn ourselves into the Duke Ivan the Horrendous."
"Horrible."
"I know it's horrible, I was just being facetious," Ismie says.
"I know, I just think that's a horrible idea."
"You worry too much."
"It's because I am not a witch, I guess."
"True but we can fix that."
Ismie smiles at me so sweetly that I get chills.


"I like the other version better," the barkeep says as we walk out into the night.

"What version is tha-" Sprogsgutt asks as the door swings shut.
"You know it's good to be a witch," Ismie says taking my arm.
I am afraid to ask.
"You shouldn't be afraid, my lovey."
Well, I am.
"I am going to take such good care of you."
Help!
Ismie laughs as we walk into the moonrise.

"Charlie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Roll Curtain.




"We are just going to the jailhouse, right?"
"Oh, we will get there eventually.

The Trouble with Witches

We look for a nice table in the Parasite Inn.
Rather, the patrons spot Ismie (I mean she does stand out) and scatter in a semi-fluid not really constrained manner abandoning most of the tables in the room, just in case, she chooses the one where they were sitting. Ismie watches this with some amusement.
"Is this normal?" I ask.
"Yup," Ismie says. "Ever since I first said I was a witch, most everyone who has heard it scatters as if I am a loose wand shooting spells all willy nilly."
"Ah."
Ismie walks through the abandoned tables, ignoring them until she reaches an empty corner.  We pause in the alcove.
Ismie whips out her wand.
The room goes into panic mode as the patrons flee in all directions, out windows, under tables, over the bar, up the stairs, into the ladies room.
"Dinerosa," Ismie whispers and with a pop a nice table and two chairs appears in the alcove. The table has a tablecloth with blue stars on a black backdrop, white china and slim wine glasses, utensils made of white pearl and pepper and salt shakers made to look like gnomes.
"Have a seat," Ismie says as she slides into the other one, she snaps her fingers in the air.
I sit down opposite her, my back to the wall, she is against the other wall and the Inn is to my left. I am struck again by her beauty.
"Thanks, that's really nice of you to keep saying that," Ismie says.
I blush and feel my heart do tiny flip flops.
"It happens. I like being with you too, I mean you are a sweet kid, a lot like your dad....I mean-" Ismie says, looks guiltily at her hands before whispering "whoops."
I gawk at her caught between fear, surprise and a certain dread that I know what she just really said.
"Any chance we could just forget I said that?" She ventures.
"You hate my father," I say, but I already know something is wrong with the statement.
"I don't hate Devin. He's an idiot, for sure, I might dislike him for the way he goes on with your mother, Saran," Ismie takes a deep breath, snaps her fingers again, looks across the bar, wave her wand. The wine arrives in 2 counts and is poured and the waitress disappears as fast as she appeared.
"Devin, I mean dad, is not my real father....the gnome Sprogsgu- was telling the truth," I say slowly.
Ismie gulps down the wine makes a face, taps the glass with her wand twice before tossing back the whole glass. She looks a bit sick and embarrassed.
"I'm sorry Charlie. I guess I may be as bad as Sprogsgutton when it comes to confidences."
"Wait that Gnome's name is Sprogsgutton?"
"Finally!" The gnome practically screams it from under the table.
We both look under the table to find Sprogsgutton there with both hands clamped over his mouth.
Sprogsgutton nods, still holding his hands over his mouth and scampers for the door, his new weasel tail swishing behind him.
I feel sick. I take a sip of the wine.
Ismie puts her hand on mine. It is oddly comforting. I should be angry.
"It's good that you aren't," Ismie says. "I mean you probably would have figured it out eventually."
"Is Queen Sam-" I choke on a sudden rush of fear.
"She is," Ismie says squeezing my hand, I feel better.
"Then..... Devin isn't- I mean that means Ralph is my-"
"Well, not exactly," Ismie says. She drinks more wine. "Sheesh, this is harder than it looks."
"So, Ralph isn't my father then who is?" I say, but I know that Ralph is.
"Ralph is technically your dad," Ismie starts then stops then laughs. "This is the trouble with witches."
"Ralph's a wizard.... isn't he?"
Ismie stops, opens her mouth, then closes it, then opens it again.
"It's complicated by magic and science." She finally says.
"What?"
Ismie looks over at the rest of the bar, everyone is studiously not listening to every word we have said.
"Stupify!" Ismie yells and the entire inn flees out the windows and doors.
"Did you just cast a spell?" I ask watching the rapid retreat.
"Did it look like a spell?" Ismie says pocketing her wand.
"Nope," Prince Charlie, magical expert.
"Well, they thought it was a spell," Ismie says.

A pregnant silence follows.

"Hmph, that's a word Ralph would use," Ismie says. "Look, Charlie, it's like this. Your dad, Devin was shooting blanks and Saran asked Ralph for help and he asked me since Wizards are bad with babies."
"Shooting blanks....?" I struggle to imagine Devin shooting anything.
Ismie stops, opens her mouth then closes it.
"Oh," I say. "The Birds and the Rabbits speech." I slap my forehead. I got that speech about 5 times from 4 different people at 5 different times.... none of which made sense. I later went to Ralph who gave me a book that made even less sense. In the end, Queen Sam explained it to me.
"Dad's is infertile?" I ask.
"He was, at the time," Ismie said. "No one knew it. I found out after an old Hag by the name of Malificnessa let it slip one night after a few drinks that Devin's Dad Kevin had insulted her Mother Magnifica and that Mag had curse Devin's family line with impotence for the insult. Malificnessa then said that her mom wasn't the best at curses and screwed up the curse but the end result was still sterility, so no one fixed it."
"I have a Grandfather?"
"Technically he's not your grandfather," Ismie says. "Technically he's an Oak Tree in the courtyard."
"Oh," I say, "You mean the one with the swing."
"That would be the one," Ismie says.
That's the trouble with witches, they seldom really forgive anyone.
"We do forgive but it does help if there is an apology."

"Anyway, I told Ralph who told your Mom and we came up with a plan to give King Devin a child."
So I am a child of Magic.
"Well, artificial insemination," Ismie adds.
"Artificial insemi- what?"
"Magic," Ismie says. "I had no other idea what it was before I cast it either, only Ralph does.
"And my brother?"
"Well, he is really Devin's child," Ismie says. "Those curses traded at your twelfth birthday had side effects."
"Oh," Because this somehow makes sense.
"I'm assuming that-" Ismie says. "I wasn't there, but given the accuracy of spell casting anything is suspect."
"So I am Ralph's Brat Kid after all."

"Told you so."
I punch Sprogsgutton in the nose without even looking at him.
"I'm sorry!" he screams as he flies across the room.
Ismie watches him go.
"I hate Gnomes."
"That makes two of us," Ismie says.

"Uh, a couple of things, Charlie?" Ismie says after Sprogsgutton hits the wall and shatters into several hundred ceramic pieces.
"Yeah?' I say, not surprised that Ismie would recurse the gnome at this point.
"Devin doesn't know." Ismie sighs. "So, if you corner Ralph over this, it would be nice not to do it in earshot."
"I wasn't going to tell my father anything."
We watch the Garden Gnome put himself back together.
"Ralph on the other hand-"
"I have a thing for Ralph if you haven't noticed," Ismie says, "So please don't be too hard on him."
"I am not going to kill him," I say, "He is my father, technically speaking."
"You did punch King Dev in the gut," Ismie says.
"So, I could punch Ralph in the gut. That would be allowed?"
"I would advise against it. You don't want trouble with Wizards, even the ones who are your father."
"Good point."

Mimosas and the talk of Witches.

Following the Pancakes, we sit back with our a pair of Mimosas, a drink of crush Oranges mixed with the elixir of trampled spirits. I have to say that while troll cuisine involves painful references, it tastes great. We both watch the flight of the gnome from Spot, Larry's dog.
The gnome is quite agile.
Spot, is, well, dogged in his pursuit of pancake goodness.
"I hate you!" the gnome screams each time he runs past the patio. There is less pancake and syrup on him each time.
"You know, you should talk to Ismie," Larry says after a while.
"You mean the witch who has a habit of turning hapless idiots into various inconvenient forms?"
I say, thinking Larry must be joking. "Witches turn Prince's into frogs."
"Only if they deserve it," Larry remarks as Srogsgu- races by for the fifth time.
"It's not Sprogsgu-!" the gnome screams at me, he suddenly stops, points a stubby finger at me. "My name is is really Sprogsgu-" as the dog chomps down on his head and carries him off for a good licking (as it turns out).
"I didn't deserve to get turned into a frog," I remark.
"That's couldn't have been Ismie," Larry says as the slurping commences from the bushes. "It's not her style."
I shrug, the memories of being a frog are still fresh and uncomfortable.
"It does sound like Callendra though," Larry says. "That old hag has no sense of humor."
For some reason, I feel better.
I nod.
"Sounds like her." Larry muses. "You must be the unfortunate son of King Devon, then?"
I must look shocked.
Larry laughs.
I look confused.
"Trolls work for Witches from time to time. It's how I met Ismie, actually- during that whole Wizard War debacle. I was out dodging wizard spells and ended up having tea with her while hiding in a trench. She told me about your dad and Ralph the semi-stupendous and how you are a  girl but your dad wanted a son and all that."
Wow.
"Also Ismie has a thing for Ralph- even though, at the time he was trying to kill her."
Double wow.
"Magic-users are that way about love, they tell me," Larry says and gets us another Mimosa.
"Anyway, I suspect that Ismie would like you," Larry continues, "I doubt she will turn you into anything."
Very reassuring.
"It's what I do," Larry says.

So there you have it.
An hour later, I find myself standing back in front of the Parasite Inn.

"You could cut your losses and take me back to Stonehaven with you, instead."
I look down.
There is a much cleaner gnome looking up at me.
Sprogsgu- smiles up at me.
I reconsider my choices.
"Actually my name isn't Sprogsgu-. It's Sprogsgu-!"
I didn't kick him. I swear.
"Oh look it's the Garden Gnome."
Ismie looks down at the petrified Gnome.
"Have you learned your lesson?" She asks so sweetly you can hear Sprogsgu-'s teeth chattering in terror.
I look at Ismie who just suddenly popped out of thin air.
"Close your mouth dear, " Ismie smiles, she is so beautiful with her perfect green hair, green eyes, green skin, perfect figure and purple hat and dress I want to cry or giggle or both.
"What a nice thing to say about me," Ismie says. "Shall we go in for a bite?'
We leave the petrified Gnome on the stoop. I glance back at him as we go in.
"Oh, he'll thaw out in a day or two," Ismie says as she takes me by the arm.
She smells great, like soap and fresh sugar cookies.