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Home Remedy
“I can’t believe you’re calling me about this.” Bobby grumbles into the phone, wishing he had thought to turn off his cell before trying to settle into bed for the night.
“I know, me too, but I don’t know what to do anymore, Bobby. This has gotten out of control and I can't make it stop.”
“Okay. I get it, but are you sure he’s cursed?”
“He’s been like this for three days. What about all of this sounds natural to you? What else could it be?”
"You guys run into any witches or voodoo queens lately?"
"No, but there are all kinds of fugly douche-nozzles that aren't exactly putting us on their Christmas card list this year, so any one of them could have sicked this on him."
"You checked for hex bags?”
“Of course. I looked everywhere … there’s nothing.”
“Well then maybe it's not a curse after all, sometimes this shit just happens. What have ya done besides that?”
“Everything.”
“Everything?”
“Yes, everything! You name it, we tried it; spoonfuls of sugar, standing on his head while drinking water, pulling on his tongue, plugging his ears, holding his breath … hell … I even tried to scare him, but it turns out he’s not really that scared of me.”
“I know something that might work, but neither one of you is gonna like it …”
“This is driving us both crazy and I don’t think either one of has had any real sleep in days, so whatever it is, we'll try it."
“Okay ... you try tickling him?”
“Come again?”
“Always worked for my mama.”
“Uh … yeah … that’s a giant no-go on that, Bobby. He’s a little big for the tickle-me-Elmo thing, don't ya think?”
“What can it hurt? Just give it a shot.”
“No way.”
“Sweet baby Jesus, just do it already and let me go to bed, will ya?”
“Alright fine. Hang on … “
Two distant, muffled voices filter across the line, one surprised and then suddenly indignant, the other determined and resolute. A series of thumps, grunts, and possibly the sound of glass breaking follows after that until a nasally proclamation of ‘Sonofabitch!’ is heard loud and clear over the phone.
A breathless and guilty-sounding voice comes back over the line a minute later, but this time it’s Sam, “Hey, Bobby, you still there?”
“Yeah. What happened? Did it work?”
“Well, uh … kinda sorta. My hiccups are gone, but I’m afraid I might have broken Dean’s nose …”
Bobby huffs a sigh and rubs a palm over his face, “Idjits …”
The End
