“Listen Charles, I am growing quite weary of your stubborness to brush your teef.”

“Teef? What are these ‘teef’?”

Mrs. Henry turned round in a fury, searching for something to beat him with. The broom found its way into her stubby little fingers, and she was soon batting away at the little rascal.

“Let’s see you get out of it NOW!”

“Aha! You think you’ve got me beaten–” he stopped to chuckle at the pun, “but I have an ace up my sleeve!”

“You bluff!”

He drew a sheet of paper from his inside-pocket. “Hello! Restraining order!”

She gasped; the boy was quicker than she thought.

A display of extraordinary speed was at hand; the old woman ran all the way to the back door, leaving a trail of smoke and flame behind her.

When she turned the corner, there was Charles, his arms folded, a cigarette between his lips.

“Why that’s brilliant! Such skill with mockery… You are truly the brightest young man!”

Charles blushed.

“Well, not to say that I pee white or anything…”

“Oh well that’s just impossible, now isn’t it?”

“No, you’ve got it wrong. It was a figure of speech.”

“Now Charles, you know I can’t hear you when you whisper. Especially with that abomination between your lips.”

He stomped his left foot.

“So you’ve forgotten who holds the chips have you!?”

The old woman backed into the gutter, praying for Jesus and a cold twinkie. Charles sensed the attack, and leapt back just in time.

“Ooh, look! A penny.”

“So THAT’s where you’ve been getting the money for those things!”

“Shut it, you. I’ll find a way, one way or another.”

The police officer saw his chance.

He broke through the window and tackled Mrs. Henry across the neck.

Years later, she would cry out in pain.

“Oho! Another piece of dialogue has entered your midst!”

“But now who’s talking?”

“I’m not sure. There’s none of that he-said she-said business, so we’re all the same person.”

“Listen, boy, I just saved your life. Do me a favor and cut out that homosexual nonsense.”

“Context clues!”

The old lady was cuffed.

“Why thank you, but I’m already married.”

“He’s dead, you know.”

She gasped.

“People can do that? The cheap bastard!”

She was taken through the house and onto the porch.

Mr. Lyles appeared at his front door, his greaves unbuckled and the excalibur out of its sheath.

“I heard a noise.”

“We all hear noises, sir.”

“Oh my, you’ve got quite bad teef.”

“It’s about time for me to point out that you’re all saying it wrong.”

“Mr. Lyles, you’d do well to rebuckle your greaves and sheath your sword. There’s an officer amongst us.”

“Wait–who’s that talking? I’m quite bad at context clues, you know.”

“Look out! She’s getting away.”

“There should’ve been an exclamation on that last sentence.”

“I don’t like impact.”

“Now what did I tell you about sounding like a nancy, boy?”

Mrs. Henry had made it into the stratosphere by now.

Two children approched the three quarrelers.

“Blimey!”

“Crikey!”

Charles stormed over and gave them both a good box in the teef, putting them out of their misery.

Their parents finally stood up, having grown sick of the way their children were being treated.

“Well, as long as the children are out of the picture–”

“No, that won’t change a damned thing. We have to kill someone.”

“Is that necessary?”

“EXCUSE ME! I’m trying to speak here.”

They all turned to him, a bit offed by his tone of voice.

“My, my, such bad teef.”

“I’m beginning to think he’s the only character who gets any recognition.”

“Same here.”

“Ditto.”

“I heard someone wanted impact?”

Charles reluctantly agreed to do it.

The wife ended up being chosen.

“Oh! Give me a good name, please?”

“Very well.”

He called her a very rude name and she giggled shyly.

The husband drew his white flag.

“You may have won the battle, but you haven’t won the war.”

“I hope, at least, I’ve won your hearts.”

He had gone too far.

The officer grabbed him by the collar.

“You like that queerness, don’t you boy?”

“I try hard to stay straight!”

“Oh, really?” said the officer.

They all gasped, looking at one another with equal amounts of fear and delight.

“It happened, didn’t it?” asked Mrs. Wanker.

They gasped again.

“IguessthatmeansnooneisgonnaDIE–!!”

His last words ended with a gunshot, the irony, then he bent backwards and slumped onto the ground.

“Oh no! Who just got shot! Is that my husband!?”

“Well it’s not you, that’s for certain.”

“And it can’t be the officer, since he’s the one with the gun.”

“Oh bother, I wish there were more clues!” she said. “She-said? That means me, Mrs. Wanker! And I will get rid of that name, I think.”

Mrs. Henry smashed back to earth.

“Oh damn! With Mrs. Henry’s reappearance, she-said becomes pointless,” he said.

Unable to contain their rage, they erupted into a flurry of fists, his fist and her fist and Mrs. Henry’s fist blurring into her face and his face and Mrs. Henry’s face all at once.

They then melded into one being, a fist-faced, face-fisted, he-she his-her-ing monstrosity of they-them-ing proportions.

And while the argument carried on, he yelling at him and her and she yelling at herself, the other she weeping uncontrollably into her husband’s bloody corpse under the gaze of the pair of the lot of them…Charles finally went to brush his teef.

 

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