2. O'Malley's

The witch paced along. As she passed a large shop, she noticed her reflection in the window and she stopped to take a look at herself in her new outfit. As she took in her image, a gasp escaped from her lips. In her own world she had not been bad looking, but here, wherever here was, she looked absolutely stunning.

She stepped up as close to the window as she could, examining her face. It was fine-lined, her black eyes were still there also, but she was... young. And slim. Her nose was smaller. The wart, she noticed with pleasure, was however still there. With a smile she touched it. After admiring her new self for a while, in which there did not seem to be any life in the street, she turned her head. A sound had drawn her attention. It sound like ruffians having a good time, and she appreciated the company of such people.

It did not take her long to determine where the noise was coming from. It came from the other side of the street, from a house that had no more glass windows. Grimhilda, Hilda for friends, the wicked witch, nodded with a nasty grin and stepped onto the street.

The man in the car, who happened to have to go through the street, got quite a scare when he saw the denim-clad woman step into the street only yards before his car. Although he slammed his brakes and yanked the steeringwheel around, it was clear to him: this will be a hit. He closed his eyes and the car stood still. Slowly he started breathing again. He opened his eyes and looked out the windshield. The young woman stood in front of the car, holding some kind of silvery stick pointed at him.

Hilda had sensed the vehicle approach, unconsciously. There were many good things about being a witch. As she stepped onto the hard street, her magical instincts kicked in. Within the blink of an eye her wand was in her hand and spewed a stream of protection towards the oncoming metal cart, forcing it to a halt.

Curious, she walked around the cart. It was like nothing she had ever seen. No horse in front of it, although there was a sound coming from the front as if there was a wild animal housed in it. There was one man inside it, eyes closed. Oh, he was opening them again. She reached the door and tapped the window with her wand. The window fell apart, glass bits falling into the man's lap.

"What is this?", she asked him.

"What? This? It is my car. But you should be dead! There is no way in hell I could have braked in time to avoid you."

Hilda frowned. "You are one of the men the King has sent out to find me and kill me? Even here? Damn." Another tap of the wand made the door fall out of the car and the seatbelt evaporate. "Get out of your cart, you foe."

The man started shaking. His day had already started lousing, sleeping too long, having a fight with the wife. And now this. "Am I still sleeping?", he asked as he clambered out of the car. "I must be."

Hilda looked up at the man. "Maybe you are. Maybe you are not." Then she poked the tip of her wand under the man's chin, pressing harder than needed. "Now speak. Did King Herald send you after me? Where are your companions? No way he's sending one man alone!"

Stewart tried to swallow, but the silver stick made that very difficult. "I know nothing of King Herald, woman. I am just trying to get to work."

A lone bicycle rider came through the street. Taking in the strange scene, he stopped. "Hey, someone having a problem here?", the man asked as he looked at Hilda and her threatening pose against the man with the damaged car.

"Communtatus rana," Hilda said, swooshing her wand at the cyclist for a moment. A second later the wand was under Stewart's chin again, the bicycle dropped to the ground and from under the helmet crawled a frog.

Stewart saw it happen, his eyes became large. "What the fuck are you? A witch?"

Hilda frowned. "He didn't tell you? How sloppy." Annoyed, she withdrew the wand, leaving a white spot in Stewart's skin. "This is not getting us anywhere, is it? Okay, just tell me how Lamador got you here and how he'll get you back, then I can go that way and leave this crazy place."

"Lamador? Who's that? Your King Herald's brother?" Stewart was sweating from every pore by now, looking at the frog that was helplessly crawling about, croaking in despair.

"Lamador, my stupid foe," Hilda said, tapping his forehead with the wand to emphasise every syllable, "is King Herald's sorcerer. And if you don't know that, then they erased your brain well." She then took four long steps away from the car and the man. "Aaargh... this is so bad!", she then yelled. "This is total disrespect to the Wicked Witch, sending such amateurs after me!" She pointed her wand and drew up the charge.

"Deliquesco!" Nothing happened, except for Stewart holding his breath.

"Damn it... I hate Latin. Fluxum!" Again, nothing happened. Hilda's face got an expression that was feared by the ones that knew her. To Stewart it just looked slightly amusing.

"Dissolve!" A crackle shot to the car from the wand, making it and the man leaning against it light up for a moment.

"It's not working, is it?", Stewart now grinned. His voice still echoed through the street as he and his car turned liquid and splashed onto the street.

"It works alright," Hilda grumbled. "English just takes a few seconds longer." She turned towards the bar. "Right." She walked off, leaving the frog and its bicycle to take care of their own trouble.

Bluto lay on the bar, singing a sailor's song that had more profanities in it per line than anyone would deem possible. Each line seemed to be a strain on his vocal chords, as he had to take a healthy swig of the bottle in his hand. After that, a belch sounded as the intro to the next part of the lyrics.

His bald head was tattooed with hearts and anchors. His broad shoulders were barely covered with a sleeveless leather vest of undetermined colour. His mountainous belly was, for a change, not hanging over his jeans. As he sang, the spurs he had on his boots scratched new lines in the bar's surface.

Patrick O'Malley, the owner of the establishment, was still tied up in his corner. He had wished at least a dozen of times already that he could just faint and not witness the downfall of his empire.

Bubba had ripped the green cloth from the pool table and tied that around his neck. "Hey, guys, ain't I looking like a fuckin' leprechaun king now?", he laughed, emptying the bottle of beer and then giving it its first and last flying lesson.

"Hey, ho, leprechaun king, we follow you and we do our thing," Julius yelled. He had regained consciousness again after the expression of affection by Bitch. Who counted one more bump or black spot when supplied with love?

"Oh, how grand. A party. Can I join?"

The sudden sound of a female voice made even Bluto look up from his comfortable position on the bar. "Well crap on me," he muttered. "A plaything."

Hilda took in the pathetic state of the bar and smiled. This was a good place to be. The few people inside made her heart swell with pride. This was her kind of style, and she admired their attire.

Bubba, the cloth still around his bull's neck, walked up to Hilda and looked her up and down. "Welcome, dear lady," he mocked, making a bow and extending a hand towards the bar. "Please join us in our celebration."

Hilda felt even better now. People who recognised her status and paid proper tribute to that. Regally she nodded and walked past the big man, who smelled like beer and fried meat.

The gang watched the slender woman with the long braids walk to a table that was still upright. There were two chairs next to it that looked safe also, so she selected one and sat down. "You can bring me some wine," she said to Bluto, who stared at her from the bar.

Bluto's mental processes, never the fastest, failed completely now.

"Hey," Bubba roared, "get up and get the lady some wine!" His eyes sparkled. This was going to be a lot of fun, he knew, an afternoon and probably also a night of pleasure.

Bluto grunted something inunderstandable and hoisted himself off the bar. He rummaged through the bottles and found something that looked appropriate. Then he located one of the large beerglasses that still was in one piece. He stared at the cork in the unopened bottle. For a moment he gazed around, clueless. Then he solved the situation by hitting the top of the bottle on the bar, glass giving way.

The contents of the bottle was a bit too much for the glass to hold, so he resolved that by pouring the remains down his throat. Bluto picked up the glass and marched over to the table. Slamming down the glass, spilling quite a lot of the wine, he said: "Here you go." After peering at Bubba, who was looking how Bluto would handle this, the fat-bellied man added: "Your majesty."

"Thank you, dear man. Not there, but getting closer." Hilda patted Bluto on the wrist as if she was petting a dog. Then she lifted the large glass and drank half of it down in one go. That earned her a round of cheers from Bubba's group, and the leader of the pack yelled that Bluto should open another bottle for her and keep it at the ready.

Bubba then grabbed the other chair, turned it around and sat on it, his arms folded over the backrest. "So, sweetcheeks, where did you come from? Care to play with the big boys, do you?"

Hilda looked the man up and down. "And you are?"

Bubba looked around, his boys all laughing along with him. "I'm Bubba. I run this place."

"Bubba..." Hilda sampled the name. "That does not sound like a name that terrifies people, I must say."

The laughter stopped. Bubba's first. His already rather unpleasant face worstened by several degrees. "You are about to piss me off, woman," he said, grabbing Hilda's wrist. "People here are terrified of me, and with reason. And you should be too."

"Kindly take your hand off me, before I make you." Hilda's tone was cold, her eyes, black as night, seemed to shoot fire.

Bubba let go of her. "One of them psychology tricksters, right? Let me show you what we do with psychology tricksters." He rose and towered over her.

As Hilda was looking up at the big man, he reached down with a speed that was astonishing for a man his size, grabbed the witch by the arms and tossed her over his shoulder, her arms squeezed tightly against her body. She could not reach for her wand and for several moments was helpless and confused about the sudden change in atmosphere and situation.