The Lion, the Witch, and the Werewolf, Part Seven: I Told You This Would End Badly

The Lion, the Witch, and the Werewolf

Toby held Brian by the throat, dangling him a foot off the ground. Brian kicked and clawed at the other werewolf’s wrists, but he was proving to be far more durable than Brian had hoped.

“Nothing personal, man,” said Toby. “Turns out I’m just a fucking psychopath.”

“I told you this would end badly for you,” said Mabel, standing behind Toby with an obnoxiously smug look on her face. “At least your little friends got away.”

“For now,” coughed Suzette, rubbing her throat and staggering to the other witch’s side.

“Guess again!” shouted Lisa triumphantly, jumping up from behind, and then stumbling awkwardly through, a hedge and nearly falling into the street.

“Lisa,” Brian grunted, “get… go…”

“Guess again?” said Mabel. “Are you… proud that you didn’t get away? Was that supposed to be some kind of brag?”

“I’m with the witch on this one,” said George, stepping out from behind his tree. “I don’t think that made any sense.”

“It doesn’t have to make sense!” shouted the girl in the lion costume. She slid her hand behind her back and pulled a revolver from the waistband of her gold sweatpants. Before anyone could process what was going on and come up with a witty retort, Lisa pulled the trigger and put a silver bullet straight through Toby’s heart.

“Holy shit,” said Mabel.

As the newly deceased werewolf collapsed to the ground, Lisa fired again, this time at the witches.

The enchantresses ducked and started to flee as a third shot ran out, but Brian was able to grab Suzette by her hair and pull her to the ground before she could escape. Again, before anyone could say anything clever, he plunged his ebony claws into her chest and ripped her heart out.

Without hesitating, Brian brought the still-beating organ to his mouth and took a terrific bite of it.

“Oh, holy hell, this is disgusting,” he spat, chewing on the heart. “Do I have to eat all of it?”

“‘Fraid so,” replied George. “That’s what you’re always saying anyway.”

“Oh, God,” groaned the werewolf. “I should’ve brought barbecue sauce or something. This is just terrible. It’s like if beef jerky and a mushroom had a baby and it tasted like wet garbage and loose change.”

“Just hurry up and eat it, you big baby,” said Lisa. “I still want to go trick-or-treating.”

“Where did you get a gun, by the way?” asked Brian before taking another bite.

“You made me promise to put you down if you ever got free and started doing something evil,” she said. “It was not a promise I made lightly.”

“So you always have that on you?” he mumbled, his mouth full.

“Of course.”

“You’re nine!”

“And you’re a werewolf! What’s your point, Brian?”

Brian popped the last of the heart into his mouth. He chewed furiously and swallowed hard. After a few minutes he said, “I feel kinda weird. Light-headed. I’m gonna… sit down for a second.”

The werewolf lumbered over to the curb and sat down exhaustedly. He put his paws on the sidewalk behind him and leaned back. He exhaled with significant gusto.

“What a day, am I right?”

“You seem to be losing your hair,” said George, squinting at his brother, “and quickly. Is this something I’m going to have to worry about? Was Dad bald?”

Within moments, Brian had reverted back to his normal teenage self.

“Nice ding-dong,” said George.

The teenager closed his knees together and, flushing crimson, asked, “Didn’t you bring me a change of clothes?”

“Oh, yeah, they’re behind the tree. Hang on.”

George walked over to his oak tree, looked behind it, and then immediately turned on his heel and walked back to his siblings.

“We’ve got a problem, guys.”

From behind the oak tree, Mabel emerged brandishing her broomstick. Her dark hair danced wildly and her tattered dress thrashed as if possessed by a raver on a lot of drugs. Her hands, clutched around her broom, glowed an otherworldly green. She stared at them with cold fire in her eyes and the very air itself seemed to be sucked from the street.

“You really didn’t think your last meal over very well, did you, Spot?” the witch taunted. “I almost feel bad about this. Almost.”

The glow around her hands burst into dark flames and ran down the length of her broomstick. Mabel pointed the end at Brian’s chest.

“Prepare to diet soda monkey farts…”

The witch began spasming wildly. The unearthly fire extinguished itself; her broom fell to the sidewalk. Mabel gibbered a few more words, then her eyes rolled up into her head and she staggered forward awkwardly, her legs apparently having turned to spaghetti.

It may have had something to do with the axe Tommy put into her head.

Mabel collapsed to the ground, dead.

“Jesus Christ,” said Brian.

“I thought that thing was just part of your costume,” said Lisa.

“Doesn’t mean it can’t be real,” countered the tin man.

“Why would you carry a real axe?!”

“Zombies,” he replied. “You seem to be awfully hung up on this, given you’ve been carrying a gun in your underpants all night.”

“It wasn’t in my underpants…”

“You believe in zombies,” said George, “but you didn’t believe us about witches and werewolves.”

“Look, you guys’ve lived your lives, and I’ve lived mine,” said Tommy. He placed his foot on Mabel’s back and wrenched the axe from her skull. “Let’s just go get some candy, OK? My mom said I have to be home by ten.”

In the distance, sirens wailed.

“Good idea,” said Brian. “Let’s get going.”

The Lion, the Witch, and the Werewolf - The End