As the chicken ascended through the air and away from the thick gray smoke of the Windless Forest the companions noticed that the sky looked strange. It was clearly pielight.

Pielight was when it wasn’t quite day, wasn’t quite night, wasn’t quite gas and wasn’t half passed gas either. It was a nebulous time where the sky was dark and light and the suns were rising and setting in a particular pattern that cast a faint shadow on the barely invisible moon in the shape of a slice of pie. Hence the term pielight, though some scholars argued that pie was actually named such after the light as scholars are wont to do.

Pielight did not happen every day. Sometimes it did not happen for months, and in fact many said that one only experienced a pielight when something monumental, melodramatic, climactic and intense was about to happen, like chipping a tooth or getting laid.

There was also a rather popular series of light romance novels under the name of Pielight where a teenage girl met a family of people called the who managed to lead completely ordinary lives without so much as using any magic.

“Pielight,” Krumbumbum whistled dreamily. “I remember my first pielight.”

“It looks like something big is coming our way, dearies” Javelda chuckled, “I just hope it’s something hood.”

“Can you not talk so much, Javelda? It’s kind of throwing off the nice jaunting group dynamic we had before you and VinVinVan tacked yourselves on like not to be rude but it’d be cool if you shut up you’re a little too wholesome. We wouldn’t want you to fall off the chicken or anything.”

Javelda bowed her head, sighing and tut tutting.

Suddenly, it seemed that the air surrounding them began to sparkle brilliantly in the pielight, and space seemed to be displaced by some sort of invisible turbulence. A light, shimmering cascade of rainbows painted mosaic reflections on the clouds as a glassy reflective figure lythely snaked through the air.

“What the cluck is that shit?” croaked Broderica.

Closer and closer it grew, making wind where there was once none, nearly pushing the chicken into descent before stopping abruptly and then coiling in the air around them. It seemed that they were soon caught inside a brilliantly reflective cyclone.

“Okay Krumbumbum cast me a liquor spell already this is clucking terrifying.”

Krumbumbum held up a finger to Broderica’s face. She was already chugging a handle of gin that she had apparated a few seconds earlier.

“Come on vitch don’t hog it now!” whined Biscuit Pisser, who snatched the handle and began glugging down her own farty helping.

“Give me some! I want some you mothercluckers!! I’ll knock you both off this hamned chicken!”

“You don’t have the balls.”

“Neither do either of you!”

“HELLO, THERE,” boomed a deep, echoey voice.

A sparkling, translucent shape slowly emerged from a whirring wall of the cyclone. As it grew closer and more opaque its shape became clear. It appeared to be a giant alligator head with a thick lion’s mane. Its tongue slighty hung out. Its eyes were large and googely.

“I. AM. THE THHFFFFINKTHHHH,” the creature’s tongue flapped brilliantly in the air as it failed to anunciate, spraying a barrage of spittle all over the chicken and its passengers.

“Excrete me? The what now?” Broderica grumbled to herself about not having any liquor as she wiped the spit off her face.

“I. AM. THE TTTHHHHHHHHHHHHFIIINNKKTTHHHHHHH,” this time it was even flappier and spittier. They noticed that the thhfinkthh’s googley eyes both appeared to be lazy, as in neither appeared to be looking in any specific direction and instead just seemed to be looking off to the side in a haphazard fashion.

“What in the clucking hen is a tthhffinkttthhhhh?” Broderica mocked the beast, spitting a little herself in the process.

“I think it’s a sphinx. And it might have a lisp,” Krumbumbum suggested, finishing off the gin.

“YETH. I HATHE A LITTTHHHHHHP.”

“A lisp? We already suffered through a lisp when we were watching that terrible stageplay earlier why do you have to have one too? It’s not funny stop covering me in spit I’m too sober for this shit!”

“MANY PEOPLE HATHE. LITTHHHHPTTTHHHHH. IT ITH JUTHT ATH LIKELY THAT I WOULD HATHE A LITHHHP ATH ANYONE ELTHE WOULD HATHE A LITTTHHHP. WHY WOULD YOU ATTTHHHHHUME THAT THEEING ONE PERTHON WITH A LITHP WOULD MAKE YOU LETTHH LIKELY TO THEE ANOTHER PERTHON WITH A LITTHHHP? YOU OBVIOUTHLY KNOW NOTHING ABOUT THTATITHTICTHHH.”

“You’re not a person! You’re a ttthhhfinktttthh!”

“Excrete me hello over here buddy!” Biscuit Pisser decided to throw in her two cents after nearly burping out her intenstines. “What is it with you lisp havers and saying as many words with the letter ’s’ in them as possible? Like, it seems like you’re going out of your way to say as many things as possible with an ’s’ in them.

“And what’s more, while we’re at it folks, why is ‘lisp’ a word that is essentially impossible to pronounce if you have a lisp? How can you tell anybody you have a lisp if you can’t even say the word lisp?

“Okay I really can’t tell what anybody thinks about what I’m saying. I think I’m making a really hood point. It seems really ridiculous, doesn’t it? Come on you all know it does!

“Why is everyone just staring at me? Well everybody but the sphinx or thfinkth or whatever the hen it is I mean he’s just staring off into nowhere with those lazy eyes. Looks pretty comical I’ve got to be honest.”

“Biscuit Pisser,” Krumbumbum adjusted her straps, “I think you’ve had enough to drink for today.”

“THAT’TH IT THAT’TH IT. I DID NOT COME HERE TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT MY LITTHHP. THOUGH IF YOU MUTHT KNOW I DO MY BETHT TO PRACTITH MY ‘ETH’ETH ATH MUCH ATH POTHIBLE THO THAT I MIGHT ONE DAY NOT BE THO ENCUMBERED BY MY LITTHHHHP.

“NOW, FOR THE REAL REATHON I AM HERE. YOU FOLKTH HAVE INVADED MY AIRTHHHPATHE WITHOUT PROPER NOTITHE.”

“We’ve what now?” Broderica dry heaved.

“YOU HAVE INVADED MY AIRRTTTHHHPATTTHHEEE WITHOUT PROPER NOOOTITTHHHHE.”

“Airthpathe?”

“He means airspace Broderica don’t be a vitch. Now,” Krumbumbum cleared her throat in a manner reminiscent of dear departed Turdmonger, “Excrete me. Now, Mr. Sphinx—”

“I AM A HEMAPHRODITE.”

“And I used to be a woman—er, used to be a man!” snorted Broderica.

“IF YOU MUTHHT ADRETHH ME WITH PRONOUNTHH, YOU MAY UTHE THHEE, THHEER, THH—”

“And there it is again, more evidence of the bias our society has against those with crippling lisps! There are at least ten pronouns he could be referring to right now and I have honestly no idea which ones he wants me to use for him.”

“PLEATHE JUTH LET ME GET ON WITH MY THHHPIEL. BECAUTHE YOU HAVE INVADED MY AIRTHPATHE, I MUTHT DEMAND THAT YOU THUFFER THE CONTHEQUENTHETH.”

“Are the consequences getting a headache from trying to decipher what the hell you’re saying to us or the pneumonia I’m going to catch from all the spittle?”

“THE CONTHEQUENTHETH ARE ATH THUTH: YOU MUTHT ANTHWER ME CORRECTLY THETHE RIDDLETH FOUR, OTHERWITHE I THALL FOREVER THUT THE DOOR. ON LIFE. PERMANENTLY, BECAUTHE I WILL EAT YOU.”

“You’ll eat us?” gasped Krumbumbum, her nipples hardening as her top buffeted in the wind.

“YETH. I AM QUITE HUNGRY THO I WON’T BE GIVING YOU ANY HINTTH OR ANYTHING. NOW, LET UTH BEGIN. WHICH ONE OF YOU WILL BE ANTHERING MY RIDDLETH? THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE, FOR NO DITHTINCT REATHON EKTHHHEPT FOR THE FACT THAT I CAN BE A BIT OF A BALL BUTHTER.”

“Okay which one of you with ladies is doing this?” Broderica turned around to look for Javelda and Vinvinvan, only to notice that neither of them was atop the chicken. It was only her, Krumbumbum and Biscuit Pisser. “Biscuit Pisser, did you—”

“No I didn’t knock them off Shithead! You absolute asshole!”

“That means—! Krumbumbum…”

“What?! You don’t mean you think I did it? I would never! As if I’d be strong enough to push anyone off this chicken anyhowwhatwaysit!”

“That’s a fair point actually,” Biscuit Pisser gasped, “Wait a second—Shithead—deflecting—I bet it was you! You did it! You knocked them off!”

“I did nothing of the sort! Mayperhapsily they jumped off?”

“Why on Gurth would they jump off the chicken?!” Krumbumbum balked.

“EKTHKRETE ME. EKTHHHKRETE ME PLEATHHE!! THITH ITH MY MOMENT HERE, MY THPIRIT, MY THONG—”

“Ahahahahaaaa!” Broderica belched. “Your thong!”

“My cock,” Krumbumbum gasped, “how big would a thong be on this thing anywhatwow?”

“Especially with both sets of gear down there!”

“Ewwww!”

“Yea really Biscuit Pisser that was way too far come on nobody wants to picture that have some decency woman.”

“Don’t call me a woman woman.”

“But you are a woman! At least for now.”

“ENOUGH! ENOUGH I THAY! LITHTEN TO ME I’VE MADE UP MY MIND! THE LOUD ONE WILL ANTHWER THE FIRTHT RIDDLE. THE THKINNY ONE WITH BARELY ANY CLOTHETH ON WILL ANTHER THE THECOND RIDDLE. AND THE HAIRY ONE WILL ANTHER THE THIRD RIDDLE.”

“Hey idiot!” Borderica blew a raspberry. “What about the fourth riddle didn’t you say it was four riddles?”

“THE CHICKEN WILL ANTHER THAT ONE. OBVIOUTHLY.”