“Look now that we’re closer to them clucking look at that guy he is such a cockhamned skyrate!”

“Yaarg! Avast, me matey—ehrm, me parrrgtner! Batten down the hatches!”

SCREEEEEEE

The old god bit at the young god’s chest, spewing specks of blood through the air.

Broderica looked at Biscuit Pisser, who had now climbed up on top of the young god’s crown. “Okay, Biscuit Pisser, I admit he does seem awfully skyratey,” she adjusted her boobs with a heaving sigh, “But you see that woman next to him? She hates skyrates! She tried to clucking kill me when I mentioned skyrates!”

SCREEEAAAAEEEE

The young god slashed a claw at the old god’s neck, sending it womping back and forth and nearly sending Green Garey and Pamela sailing away.

“Shitface, have you had a drink recently?” Biscuit Pisser posited.

Broderica turned aside and pondered this as the large spur of a god claw flung itself within a breath of the back of her head. “Not for about, what, half an hour or so? I don’t know. Krumbumbum, when did you grope the moleman again?”

SCREEEEEEEAAAA

Blood and feathers shot through the air like confetti.

“I didn’t grope the moleman!” she cried, and with a sudden burst of adrenaline stuffed defiance pulled herself up atop the god’s saddle. She pushed gnatted hair out of her face and spit at Broderica. Due to the god’s erratic movements the spit actually hit Krumbumbum in her own face, shocking her into losing her balance and tumbling to once again weakly grasp at tail feathers.

SCREEEEEEE

The old god spit weak flames not much larger than bonfire embers Biscuit Pisser, who dodged them as he talked to Broderica.

“Well look Shitface look I’m not trying to butt in and say whether or not Krumbumbum groped the moleman I mean hen I wasn’t there so how would I know you know what I’m saying but there’s no way she didn’t what with all that defensiveness.

“However what I think is really important for us to realize Shitface is that you seem almost stone cold sober and I’m concerned it’s affecting your judgement. Clearly that lady that tried to murder you and that skyrate are in cow-hoots. They’re the skyrates, Shitface. They’re trying to frame you. Hen, I bet they’re hiding your ass somewhere.”

SCREEEAEEAEEAAA

Broderica’s face glew as red as if she’d chugged a handle of liquor and a vein nearly popped out of her neck. She started rummaging through her pockets for things to chuck at Biscuit Pisser.

“Biscuit Pisser don’t you DARE mention my ass again or I’ll throw you right the cluck off this god! You were not there I know who napped my ass and it wasn’t them so just cluck the cluck off already!”

“Please help meeeee!” screamed Krumbumbum, nearly sliding off the god’s tailfeathers as it reeled back, preparing to strike at its vehemetly bloodied enemy.

“Oh go cast a spell or something you clucking PUNT!”

HOOOOOOAAAAAHHHHH

Everyone in the arena, including the spectators caught in sewage and even the gods, froze and gasped as the word ‘punt’ echoed around the cavern brilliantly. Punt, punt, punt, quieter and quieter still in each and every eardrum in the arena. Even a deaf old man in the far corner caught in an exceedingly foul glob of excrement gasped as through magic, osmosis, or a very astute bout of auditory hallucination as he heard the first word he had in twenty years: punt. How crude.

Broderica huffed in exasperation, looking around as everyone glared at her. “Oh cluck off! She is a punt!”

HOOOOAAAOOOOAAAHHHH

“Alright what the clucking cluck is going on who the cluck are you and why are you ruining my clucking show?!” whined the brash voice of Jeffrey with a G as he hovered up to face Broderica, suspended by a large magical crane and pulley system labeled ‘DEUCE DOT EXE’. Krumbumbum noted that it was using inferior warlock magic.

“Oh my clucking cock,” Jeffrey with a G gasped, recognizing Broderica, Biscuit Pisser, and Krumbumbum. “What are you clucking idiots doing out of the pit? When I find Eustace I’m going to ring his clucking neck! And now you’re shouting clucking profanity on my clucking stage! That’s just clucking uncalled for it is!”

“Look, Jeffrey—” Broderica paused, noticing his eyelid twitch, “—with a G, I know that I said punt—”

HOOOOOAHHHH

“And I know that pretty much everybody is pretty upset with me that I said punt—”

HOOOOOOOOAAHHHHHH

“—and I’ve done a lot of thinking and I’ll probably be better about saying punt in the futu—”

HHHHAOOHHHHHH

“—future, but look, you have to admit, she was being a total punt.”

HHHOOAOHHHH

“You know what, ‘Broderica’?” Krumbumbum cried, swapping the arm with which she dangled, “I think you’re a total punt!”

HHOOHAOHOHOHAOHOOHHOAHOOHHHH

Jeffrey with a G waved his arms like a sozzed up hummingbird. “Can everybody please just stop saying the p word?”

“The p word?” Biscuit Pisser snorted, choking on his own saliva and almost falling off the god’s comb in a laughing mess. “The clucking p word? Dude, Jeff, we’re here at an illegal godfight and you can’t even say punt?”

HHHOHOAOOHOHOHOHOOHOHOHHHHHH

“I believe I should butt in,” Pamela chimed in from the other god, which despite its bloodied bodice looked like it would more likely drop dead at any moment due to cancer or gangrene or indigestion. “I wouldn’t call these godfights illegal, per se, I mean I’m a member of the Royal Gourd and here I am. I mean, they are illegal, totally. But the corruption to illegality scales are just a little off balanced on this issue here in Caldonia as we all know,” Pamela sketched in her notepad, glancing at Jeffrey with a G, “Also, Jeffrey, are you circumcised? Usually I can tell but I’ve been having trouble getting a read on you.”

“Stop clucking calling me Jeffrey! It’s Jeffrey with a G you clucking PUNT!”

HHHOAHOOHOHHOHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOH

“Well,” Pamela blinked rapidly, sketching away and tut-tutting, “I think we all know the answer to that question.”

Everyone murmured to eachother quietly, not wanting to give away to anyone that they had no idea what the answer to that question would be. Jeffrey with a G was stared upon as a shameful pariah.

“Woman I don’t care if you’re appointed by the chickens themselves I will turn you into mincemeat if you continue to disrespect me!” he screeched in an owlike fashion, nearly spitting out one of his teeth.

“Avast, matey!” bellowed Green Garey.

Biscuit Pisser turned to Broderica and whispered. “Clucking told you so.”

“Yaaarg! AYE’ve had just about enough of ye disrespecting my parrrgtner!”

“Green Garey it’s okay. He knows what he did.”

“Nay, Parrmela, nay! The mangey mollusk is still to bouyant for ‘is bootstraps! Let me at ‘im!”

Strangely calm, and bubbling with some sort of strange musky odor, Jeffrey with a G addressed the entire arena. “Alright, I’ve had just about enough of this. You’ve harassed my gods, you’ve bludgeoned my audience’s ears with profanity, and you’ve covered my arena in shit.”

As Jeffrey with a G spoke, he grew and putrified. He greened and he wrinkled. He crackled and he crinkled. His eyes grew wider and droopy, and yellowed and goopy. His nails became claws, and one those claws grew other, smaller claws, and on those smaller claws grew smaller claws still. This actually continued for a few more iterations but the claws got so small that at some point it was just redundant. He grew thicc, jet black wings and a long tail that was embarassingly neon pink and fuzzy, like a gigantic stuffed caterpillar. The large, eyelashed, red lipped smiley face on the end of this tail did not help. Everyone in the audience who had been terrified at first of Jeffrey with a G’s transformation was now laughing at him and asking for a cuddle.

“But now,” growled—no, it wasn’t a growl. It was a very high pitched voice, Jeffrey with a G’s new voice, as if he was a castrated cartoon character. He tried to clear his throat, but it did not help, and actually made the voice even higher, now to the point where he sounded quite like a chipmunk that had recently inhaled a helium tank. “Now, I’m in control. Tremble before the almighty power of Jeffrey with a G, you fools, you urchins, you burnt crumbs, you pilfering pieces of pocket change! Tremble before me and fear your doom!”

Jeffrey with a G turned to the gods, which he now loomed over, to look for his targets, giving the arena a great view of his tail. He noticed that no one was riding the gods any more. While he was mutating and gloating, they had slowly climbed off the dumbfounded gods and slipped away into the shadows, Pamela and Green Garey going off to the right, and Broderica, Krumbumbum and Biscuit Pisser going off to the left, with awkward eye contact and nods at eachother in between.

Jeffrey with a G was quite angry. It did not help that the audience, which was at this moment only about halfway submerged in shit as it had slowly started draining out, had gone from light chuckles to more confident chortling to outright cajoling and screeching and knee slapping and back patting and at least three people choked to death in the sheer hilarity of his spectacle.

“Stop laughing at me!” whined Jeffrey with a G, which made everyone laugh even more. “Stop it! It’s not funny! Stop it cockhammit stop!!”

As they ran through a dark tunnel, listening to Jeffrey with a G’s ridiculous voice echo from afar, Lady Krumbumbum turned to her companions.

“Clucking warlocks,” she chuckled. “When will they learn?”