“You cheated!” I stood, pointing at Morgan. “Shenanigans!”

  “Did I hear shenanigans?” Mary Jane called from behind the bar, polishing a glass. “That doesn’t fly at The Rubber Duck. Shenanigans judge—you’re up!”

  River emerged from the kitchen. “Okay, who’s the cheater?”

  “Morgan!” I shouted.

  River walked over and kissed Morgan on the cheek. “Are you cheating, my sweet babboo?”

  I scowled. “MJ! River can’t be impartial—he’s Morgan’s husband! I call judge shenanigans.”

  “As shenanigans judge, I pardon myself.”

  “You can’t do that!”

  River crossed his arms. “I can, and I did.”

  I flipped the Hungry Hungry Hippos game off the table, marbles scattering like buckshot.

  “I hate this game anyway. Hippos wouldn’t fight over marbles—they’d be trying to kill us.”

  “Hey, judge,” Mary Jane smirked. “As my peon, it’s your job to clean up those marbles. Don’t trip,” she warned. “I don’t have insurance—I do have giant vats to hide bodies in.”

  “Classic MJ,” River laughed.

  MJ stared at her peon—and business partner—before replying, “Nah, I can’t kill you. We have comic books to make. I might maim you.”

  River knelt and began plucking marbles one by one, muttering under his breath.

  I sighed, handing him a broom. “Use this.”

  “Why aren’t you helping? You made the mess,” River mumbled.

  “I handed you the broom,” I said, deadpan.

  “You’re lucky I love you, Alison.”

  “I know,” I said, smiling, and walked across the bar to sit next to Cameraperson.

  “This was a good idea, CP,” I said, resting my head on their shoulder. “I can’t imagine a better partner. We’ve been through so much together—birthday parties, intergalactic spelling bees, I stopped a millenia-long war with waffles.”

  CP nodded and rested their head on mine.

  “I love you too, CP.”

  Their shoulder was warm, steady. The faint bite of saké lingered in the air.

  “Do you remember when we first met?”

  CP nodded, nigiri hanging from their mouth.

  “What did you do before that?”

  CP stood up, hands on hips, looking valiant. They brandished two chopsticks and flung them at the Tim Allen dartboard, piercing both of the Tool-Man’s eyes.

  Speechless, I stared.

  CP turned with a flourish, sat down, and ate their takoyaki.

  “Were you an assassin?”

  CP shook their head.

  “Samurai?”

  Another head shake.

  “Ninja?”

  They wiggled their nose and returned to eating.

  “Adventurer?”

  CP shrugged.

  “Maybe not… the adventurer guild died out after Cray and Dent left the planet. You’d have to be at least eight hundred years old,” I said.

  CP kept eating.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Back to our first assignment at Pine Burrow. How badass did you think I was back then?” I asked

  CP took another bite.

  “I know you’d heard of the great college journalist, Alison Alistair.”

  They snatched another takoyaki.

  “Well, I’d never heard of you before either,” I said.

  CP nodded. Balancing a piece of roe on their thumbnail.

  “Wait— so before Channel 13, you were unknown?”

  They gave a thumbs up.

  Good.

  “I’m glad you weren’t running around with other reporters.”

  Cameraperson pointed at themselves, made a heart with their hands, then pointed at me.

  Something warm stung at the corner of my eyes.

  “I need to go over there now,” I said, pointing vaguely.

  CP smiled.

  Across the bar, River and MJ were arguing about Spider-Man or something. I sauntered over to Morgan, who was sitting alone with a beer.

  “I have some Sorcery: The Circle decks.”

  Morgan looked up smiling. “And you call River a nerd.”

  I shrugged. “Let’s do this!”

  River, MJ, and CP all turned.

  “Not again,” they said—or gestured—in unison.

  We chose our decks.

  “Shall we?” Morgan asked.

  A staff materialized in each of our hands. We tapped them against the floor in unison. The decks floated up and dealt ten cards each.

  Morgan, expressionless, examined his hand. I put on my poker face. “Drat, nothing good here.”

  Morgan threw a card on the table. A small dagger hovered above it, flying toward me. A health bar appeared over my head, a small portion depleted.

  “I’ll show you!” I growled.

  I threw a card: tiny ice bullets pelted Morgan’s face. His health bar dropped a quarter.

  He tossed down a card. A chain link hovered above it. He tossed two more, merging two daggers into a giant blade flying straight at me. A wrench smashed into it midair, deflecting the attack.

  The front door burst open. Ten people in mechanic jumpsuits flooded in, fanning out around the group.

  “You fools dared to insult The Great Tim Allen! You will pay for your transgressions.”

  River stared. “What?”

  MJ scowled. “The…”

  I stood. “Actual.”

  Morgan watched. “Fuck.”

  CP spun, chopsticks whirling, jabbing a guy’s nose and snapping his fingers. The man dropped his hammer, and CP shoved him into the concrete wall.

  River launched upward, one jumpsuit gripped by the collar. He arced him over the bar, down onto an empty keg.

  River landed lightly on the bar and scanned the room. “Seven left?”

  “As far as I can see,” Morgan replied.

  More jumpsuits poured through the shattered doorway, trampling marbles under their boots, shouting, “All hail The Great Tool-Man! He who takes us to infinity and beyond!”

  I groaned, “Okay, y’all, we need a plan.”

  I scanned the room, CP was lost in the chaos.

  River and MJ looked at each other.

  “We have something that might work!” MJ yelled. “Hold the fort while we run to the back!”

  “When we say ‘we’re back,’ book it outside.”

  I charged forward, pencils in hand. I slid across the sticky floor, drove a pencil into a jumpsuit's groin, then snapped another into his eye as I came up behind him.

  The guy flailed, yanked the pencil from his eye, and ran. I flung a pencil—it shot through his throat into another jumpsuit's chest.

  Morgan swung a cultist like a bat; jumpsuits flew across the room.

  CP darted past, chopsticks flashing, followed by screams.

  Then they vanished into the swarm.

  I should’ve known better than to worry.

  I vaulted the bar, grabbed a bottle of everclear from beneath the counter, shoved in a bar rag, flicked a lighter, and someone grabbed my wrist.

  “Do not burn my bar down,” MJ whispered. Then she shouted, “We’re back!”

  Three of us bolted; MJ and River slowly retreated to the back room. Jumpsuits followed.

  “Ready?” River whispered.

  “My poor bar,” MJ replied.

  The group lurched toward them. MJ and River split off.

  “Here we go,” MJ said.

  River hit the switch. Small charges popped. Barrels ruptured overhead. Molasses cascaded down in thick, glistening sheets.

  River and MJ slammed the door, jamming it with a chair.

  Jumpsuits pounded on the door as molasses climbed their legs. The room filled with the smell of burnt sugar and panic.

  “Good thing we’ve been bootlegging rum,” River said, rejoining their friends.

  “Yeah, until we flooded my bar with molasses,” MJ said, shaking her head.

  “Wait!—flooded the bar?” I exclaimed.

  I put an arm around MJ’s shoulder and kissed her. “We’ll fix it up. CP can fix anything.”

  Morgan grinned. “I know a very wealthy person.”

  “He means himself,” River groaned.

  “Well, CP and I have to fly to Nebradaho and report on some crazy cow mutilations.”

  “Cow mutilations?” River asked.

  “Cow mutilations,” I confirmed.

  CP tapped their nose and hopped.

  “Cows are way more dangerous,” I said, laughing.

  Cameraperson held up three fingers and wiggled the middle one.

  I laughed. “Your name is Cameraperson Danger Trouble?”

  They took a sip of saké.

  I rested my head on CP’s shoulder as molasses crept through the splintered doorway.

  “Chaos never felt so good.”

  River and the Bug, River and Friends Part 2 - The Beagle and the Robin, and The Reaper Wears a Scarf on my page.