Part 21

Part 21

Last time, Cowhidey was girl shopping at the bar with Froggy, and Squirrely and Monkeyy were back in time where they had just finished an interview with Karl Marx for Squirrely’s journalism assignment.

The old London street Squirrely and Monkeyy walked down was still lifeless and damp. Night had settled, revealing an eerie orange glow from the scattered street lamps. Occasionally, black buggies pulled by equally black horses rolled past, splashing small puddles as they went.

“Do you know where we’re at?” asked Squirrely.

“No,” said Monkeyy. “Let me get my gpa- oh wait, no satellites…”

“This place feels kinda creepy,” said Squirrely as she rubbed the side of her arm.

“Yeah it does,” said Monkeyy. “How are we supposed to get back home?”

“I guess we need to make another time traveling taco.”

“So we need to find a bakery.”

“It would seem so, but I don’t think there are any open right now,” said Squirrely.

Suddenly a hideous scream echoed from a dark alley just to the left of the chew toys. They both stopped dead, and huddled against each other in anticipation. They strained their eyes to make out from where exactly the scream came from but could see nothing.

“YOU THERE!” yelled a Londoner dressed in the traditional attire of a British officer of the law. “Which one of you screamed?”

“It wasn’t us,” said Monkeyy. “It came from that alley.”

The officer walked cautiously towards them, before jumping back with a startle. The chew toys turned back to the alley to find a woman covered in blood and collapsed just outside the shadow of the alley’s entrance. The officer quickly ran to her as the chew toys stared in horror.

“She’s dead,” said the officer. “You two are coming with me.”

Meanwhile, in the present, Cowhidey and Froggy were at a bar where Cowhidey was talking to a blue rubber ball with a jingle bell inside of her. Stuff like that really turned Cowhidey on.

“So what was your name again?” he asked.

“Jingly,” giggled the ball.

“And what kind of stuff do you do for fun?” he asked.

“Hey, Cowhidey,” interrupted Froggy. “Hey man, I’m about to head out. Are you coming with me?”

“Already?! Dude, we just got here!” said Cowhidey.

“Yeah, well Giraffey’s been texting me. She’s bored and wants to watch a movie.”

“Then tell her to watch a movie.”

“I think she wants to watch a movie together. It’s one she’s been wanting to watch for a while.”

“Well,” said Cowhidey to Jingly, “you think maybe you can give me a ride if I stay here?”

“No need,” said a deep, masculine- almost jolly voice which was undeniably not Jingly’s. The chew toys turned their confused heads to a booming presence at the bar’s entrance.

“Santa?” they asked.

Next time, Santa picks our chew toy heroes up for a magical Christmas adventure that will surely end in death.

Part 20

Part 20

Last time, Squirrely and Monkeyy were about to interview Karl Marx for Squirrely’s journalism assignment, and Cowhidey had just been dumped by his girlfriend of three weeks.

Cowhidey sat on a bar stool and stared dejectedly at a baseball game on one of the various sporting televisions aligning the bar’s ceiling. And believe it or not, it wasn’t the fact that baseball is the most depressing, boring sports in the world that brought about this feeling of dejectedness. No, it was due to his recent break up from his one true love, the canceled Twitter page of Miley Cyrus.

Cowidey took a last swig from his beer  and cried a little inside as another fly ball sailed into God knows where for the last God knows how many times that inning.

“Can I get another?” he asked the barkeep.

“Coming right up,” said the barkeep as a slight pressure fell on Cowhidey’s shoulder. Cowhidey turned around to find Froggy pulling up a stool next to him.

“One for me too please,” said Froggy to the barkeep.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” Cowhidey asked Froggy.

“Because this is where you always go when you break up with a girl,” said Froggy.

“Ohh…” said Cowhidey as he replaced his empty bottle with a fresh one. “How’d you know we would break up?”

“Because… because you two were just too different to last very long.”

“I thought we’d be together for the rest of our lives.”

“Yeah, well- it happens. Besides, at least now you don’t have to watch anymore Broadway shows.”

“Haha, yeah Broadway does suck!”

“And there are plenty of other girls out there, right? And despite your lack of a job or life motivation in general, you never seem to lack at finding them,” said Froggy just as a chew stick girl came up to Cowhidey.

“Hi, my name’s Beef Flavor Sticky. What’s yours?” she said.

“Which is kinda annoying,” Froggy finished with a mumble.

Meanwhile, Squirrely was organizing her notes for her interview with Karl Marx. Squirrely stood in the middle of the living room while Monkeyy took a seat near a paper cluttered desk.

“Sorry,” said Karl Marx referring to his desk, “I’ve just been busy lately. Would you two like some tea?”

“No thanks,” Squirrely answered for the both of them. “Got to get this done and run along. You know how time is.”

Karl Marx smiled and sat at his desk.

“Okay, I just have three questions for ya,” said Squirrely. “One, what’s your favorite color?”

“Blue lavender.”

“Question two, what’s your favorite food?”

“Kiwi pie.”

“And three, what’s your favorite season?”

“Autumn.”

“Good!” said Squirrely to a very confused Monkeyy. “Looks like we’re done here. Thank you Mr. Marx, this will surely get me a good grade on my journalism assignment. Let’s go, Monkeyy.”

“Wait wait wait!” said Monkeyy as Squirrely was quickly walking out the door. “Hold on! You have the chance to talk to the man that influences the Communism revolution, and that’s what you ask him?!”

“Yep,” said Squirrely as she waved goodbye, and hurried back onto the foggy London street.

“But- why?”

“Because,” Squirrely stopped and rolled her head at Monkeyy, “I’m not trying to change the world, Monkeyy. I’m trying to get an A in journalism.”

Next time, Cowhidey searches for a new girlfriend in all the wrong places, and Squirrely and Monkeyy get into trouble.

Part 19

Part 19

Last time, Squirrely and Monkeyy were in ancient London looking to interview Karl Marx for Squirrely’s journalism assignment, and Cowhidey was at the park (in the today time) proposing to his girlfriend, the dead Twitter page of Miley Cyrus.

By now Cowhidey had asked Miley Cyrus’ Twitter page 16 times to marry him. The sun had gone completely down leaving only the scattered sidewalk lamps and distant cars to light the chilling park. With each question, his virtual girlfriend came up with another topic to change the subject.

“I feel like you are avoiding my question,” said Cowhidey.

“Huh, what question?” said Miley Cyrus’ Twitter page.

“Will you marry-”

“It sure does get dark without the sun.”

“Why do you keep doing this?!”

“Cowhidey, look,” said the Twitter page, “you’re a real funny, really cute guy, but I just don’t think this is meant to be. I mean, I need someone in my life that’s more into the things that I’m into and you… Well, you need someone with more tattoos.”

“So you’re breaking up with me?!” said Cowhidey.

“Sorry… But hey! We’ll always have the moments we’ve shared over that past… uhhh few… you know…”

“Weeks,” said Cowhidey.

“Yeah,” smiled Miley’s ex-Twitter page.

Meanwhile, Squirrely and Monkeyy had come upon a quaint house belonging to one Mr. Karl Marx just outside London, circa 18-something or other. Squirrely politely knocked on the door and readied her pen and interview notebook. What looked like a large man with a long beard answered.

“Can I help you?” said the man.

“Yes,” said Squirrely, “we’re looking for Mr. Karl Marx.”

“I’m Mr. Karl Marx,” said the man in a way that wasn’t totally confused but confused enough that he wasn’t totally sure what was going on but felt he was still comfortable and in control of the situation.

“Oh good,” said Squirrely. “Mr. Marx, can I do a quick interview with you for a journalism assignment?”

“Of me?” said Karl (I’m just going to call him Karl; I’m sure he’d be cool with that). “Why me?”

“Because,” said Squirrely, “I have to interview the leader of a great political movement.”

“Really?!” laughed ‘Ol Karl. “Well, I’m afraid you have the wrong person. I’m not a leader of much of anything.”

“Yeah I know,” said Squirrely. “But you will be. Or at least your writings on Communism will be shortly after you die.”

“Hey Squirrely?” interjected Monkeyy. “Shouldn’t you not tell him things about the future? I mean, isn’t there a whole time paradox issue about this that we should be careful of?”

Squirrely shrugged.

“So can we do the interview or not?” she asked the mix master Karl Mar- to the X… word.

“Sure, come on in,” he said.

Next time, Squirrely and Monkeyy screw up our entire timeline of history by revealing the future to Karl Marx. But you will never know the difference because what has happened in the past is now- today’s reality… yeah… Also, Cowhidey gets drunk at a bar.

Part 18

Part 18

Last time, Cowhidey had just proposed to his girlfriend, the dead Twitter page of Miley Cyrus, and Squirrely and Monkeyy had traveled back in time to the outskirts of London in search of Karl Marx.

Squirrely and Monkeyy arrived on a dewy, paved road just outside London circa like eighteen something or other. The sun was just setting, allowing the faint glow of the freshly lit street lamps to distinguish their own subtle luminosity. Beneath one of these lamps stood a tall, skinny Londoner dressed in a black, heavy jacket and hat. A faint match sparked from his finger tips as he lit a rather large, curvy pipe.

“Let’s ask that guy if he knows where we can find Karl Marx,” said Squirrely. Monkeyy, a little weary of the ghostly scene, said nothing and followed.

“Excuse me sir,” said Squirrely.

“Ello there,” said the man as if talking to a time traveling chew toy with an American accent was perfectly normal.

“Can you tell us where we can find Karl Marx?”

“Karl Marx is it? Sure! Just head on up that ‘ill over there- ‘bout four houses down- just a skipin a doo from the ‘ole Charley eh?”

“What?”

“Not ‘ery funny though, that Karl. Always writin’ stuff. Lives wit his rich wife and kids. Now say ‘is wife gives ‘em a bit of hassle about the pub eh? And he acts all submissive but does it just the same eh? THEN ‘IS WIFEY GIVES ‘EM A GOOD SMACK ACROSS THE FACE WIT A BIG, DEAD FISH EH! HAHAHA Now that some comedy!”

“What?”

“I think we should get going,” said Monkeyy as he tugged on Squirrely’s arm.

“All right!” said the Londoner. “Shakin’ adoo in all that then? Cheers mates!”

“Why do they say cheers when they’re not drinking?” Squirrely asked Monkeyy as he quickly pulled her along in the direction of Karl Marx’s house.

“Because they’re always drunk,” said Monkeyy.

“What?”

“Nothing, just keep walking.”

Meanwhile, Cowhidey and his girlfriend, the dead Twitter page of Miley Cyrus, were sitting on a picnic blanket at the park. The sun was going down here too, as it left golden reflections off the autumn leaves. The Twitter page pretended she didn’t hear Cowhidey’s last question.

“Babe?” said Cowhidey.

“Huh?” said the dead Twitter page of Miley Cyrus.

“You didn’t answer me.”

“What did you say?”

“I asked if you would make me the happiest thing on earth and be my wife.”

“OMG- Look a yellow car!”

Next time, Squirrely has some tough questions for Karl Marx, and Cowhidey learns the horrible lesson of having a passionate love for a celebrity’s Twitter page.

Part 17

Part 17

Last time, Cowhidey had taken his girlfriend, the dead Twitter page of Miley Cyrus, to some stupid park after being ridiculed by the other chew toys for his love for her, and Squirrely and Monkeyy were headed for Kooky’s Taco Palace for a time traveling taco.

The skies were clear and the temperature was mild as the sun hinted at its last performance of the day. It was blatantly noticeable that the clocks were recently set back an hour, not just because it was getting darker earlier, but also because of the massive amount of people walking into walls do to their disrupted sleep cycles.

Squirrely pulled into Kooky’s Taco Palace where Monkeyy escorted her inside and behind the Kooky’s Taco Palace counter. Everything looked and smelled like chipotle.

“Let me look through my recipe book,” said Monkeyy as he grabbed a small, brown book from behind the counter. “Here it is, Time Travelers Taco. Says here it’s a chicken and cheese hard shell taco with a side of pickled mustard.”

“Oh, I love pickled mustard!” said Squirrely. Monkeyy put the ingredients together rather professionally, handed one to Squirrely, and kept one for himself.

“So, how does this work?” asked Squirrely. “Do I just say where in time I want to go, and take a bite?”

“Sounds good to me,” said Monkeyy.

“Okay,” said Squirrely kind of nervously. She cleared her throat and spoke to the air above her head, “Umm, London- Karl Marx’s time- Circa something or other…”

“You don’t know the date?!” said Monkeyy.

“I forgot,” said Squirrely as she quickly took a bite of her taco. Monkeyy, shaking his head, did the same.

They were transported through what science and many various science fiction writers would tell you is time and space. However, if these nerds ever really traveled through time, they would know that space is no longer a factor in the time traveler’s gamut. Instead, space is replaced with the current sensation of the traveler’s left toe the second before they take a bite of their taco; a sensation that would have otherwise remained unconscious. This is what’s known as the Left Toe Sensation Taco Thing.

After that incredible sensation of left toe feeling, Squirrely and Monkeyy found their selves in solitude on a foggy stone road somewhere on the outskirts of London, England (circa something or other).

Meanwhile, in the today time, Cowhidey had whisked his girlfriend of three weeks on a magical journey to some random stupid park. They sat on a picnic blanket and ate freshly picked grapes as the sun drifted with a gentle breeze from the south. It was very romantic.

“Dead Twitter Page of Miley Cyrus,” said Cowhidey. “I know we haven’t known each other for long. But I feel like we’ve known each other forever. Don’t you think?”

“There’s a bug on my shirt.”

“Anyway, I just feel like now is the right time. Dead Twitter Page of Miley Cyrus, will you marry me?”

“Seriously dude, there’s a bug on my shirt. Get it off!”

Next time, Squirrely and Monkeyy search for Karl Marx and Cowhidey gets drunk.

Part 16

Part 16

Last time, Cowhidey was defending his reasoning for dating the dead Twitter page of Miley Cyrus to Giraffey, Froggy, and Monkeyy while Squirrely ran to her room, upset about the situation.

“I’ll go talk to her,” said Monkeyy after Squirrely slammed her door shut.

“What’s that about?” said Cowhidey.

“Cowhidey!” said Giraffey in clear hearing range of the dead Twitter page of Miley Cyrus, “You have got to be the most inconsiderate jerk I’ve ever met!”

“What are you talking about— I’m going to Broadway for this relationship! How am I suddenly inconsiderate?!”

“Not of the stupid Twitter page! Inconsiderate of Squirrely’s feelings!” yelled Giraffey before realizing what she had just said. “Sorry Miley’s Twitter page or… whatever you are.”

“It’s okay,” said the Twitter page.

“Come on,” said Cowhidey to his odd girlfriend. “We don’t have to take this. I knew there would be others who would make fun of our love… I didn’t think it would be my best friends!”

And with that last stupid outburst, Cowhidey slammed their crappy front door of their crappy apartment and set off for some crappy park with his dumb Twitter page girlfriend. Meanwhile, Monkeyy sat next to Squirrely on her bed as she wiped tears from her eyes.

“Seriously, Squirrely,” he said, “what do you see in Cowhidey?”

“I don’t know,” she sobbed. “Maybe it’s his looks or his I don’t give a damn attitude…”

“He drinks all the time, and he can’t keep a job.”

“Well, to be fair he’s never really applied for one.”

“Squirrely,” said Monkeyy, “you know you can do better.”

“I guess… what about you?” asked Squirrely.

“OH- I uh, only like other monkeys,” said Monkeyy.

“Of course,” said Squirrely before she wiped her nose one last time on a tissue.

“Hey, what do ya say we go get that time traveling taco,” said Monkeyy.

Squirrely smiled slightly and nodded her head as Monkeyy helped her off her bed and escorted her back into the living room.

“Why do you need a time traveling taco anyway?” asked Monkeyy.

“I have to interview the leader of a famous political movement,” said Squirrely.

“Oh, and who’d you pick?”

“Karl Marx.”

Next time, Squirrely and Monkeyy travel to circa 1850 England  and Cowhidey continues to screw everything up.

Part 15

Part 15

Last time, Squirrely was given a journalism assignment to interview the leader of a famous political movement, and Cowhidey announced to Froggy, Giraffey, and Monkeyy that he was dating the dead Twitter page of Miley Cyrus.

“Um, Cowhidey,” said Giraffey as she, Froggy, and Monkeyy walked into their crappy apartment, “can I see you in the kitchen?”

“Sure,” said Cowhidey. “Be right back babe.”

“Yep,” answered the dead Twitter page of Miley Cyrus as she continued to absently text on her cell phone.

The kitchen was everything you would expect in a cheap apartment. There was a leaky dishwasher, a leaky sink, a leaky fridge, a leaky stove, and a nuclear powered microwave from 1943. Giraffey (followed by Froggy and Monkeyy) pulled Cowhidey out of the Twitter page’s hearing range.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she angrily whispered.

“I know what you mean,” said Cowhidey. “She wants to see Chicago on Broadway, and I am totally against musicals of any kind, but you gotta do what you gotta d—”

“No moron. What do you think you’re doing dating the dead Twitter page of Miley Cyrus?!”

“What? It’s cool.”

“No, it’s not! She’s like sixteen years old! What are you, like twenty-two?”

“Twenty-one,” said Froggy.

“I thought he was eighteen,” said Monkeyy.

“Hey,” said Cowhidey, “it doesn’t matter because this isn’t Miley Cyrus. This is the dead Twitter page of Miley Cyrus, and when you think about how long Twitter has been around, that makes her roughly three years old.”

“Eww,” said Giraffey.

“Okay, ignore that…” said Cowhidey just as Squirrely came stridently through the apartment’s front door.

“Hey, Monkeyy!” she yelled. “Didn’t you once tell me you made a taco that took you back in time—” Squirrely stopped abruptly in the middle of the living room floor and stared at the dead Twitter page of Miley Cyrus who smiled briefly then returned to her absent texting.

“Who are you?” asked Squirrely.

“That’s my new girl friend,” said Cowhidey from the kitchen.

“Oh-” said Squirrely softly. “Excuse me, I uh- have to go start on some homework in my room.”

Next time on a very special New Adventures of Chew Toys, Squirrely travels into the past with the help of a magical taco, and Cowhidey takes things too far.

Part 14

Part 14

Last time, Squirrely was attending her first day of journalism class, and Cowhidey was taking a box of Lucky Charms and a flower to the cemetery.

“I brought your favorite cereal!” said Cowhidey.

“Did you get the cell phone?” asked the ghost.

“Ohhhh yeah,” said Cowhidey. “I knew I forgot something.”

“O-M-G, Cowhidey. I can’t believe you didn’t buy me a cell phone— AGAIN!” said the ghost.

“Hey baby! I’ll remember next time!”

“Huhh,” huffed the ghost, “what-ever. Did you at least bring milk this time?”

“You wanted milk?”

“Crap!”

“Hey, but I did buy us tickets to see Chicago!” said Cowhidey.

“Awww,” said the ghost as she took the tickets from Cowhidey, “you remembered!”

“I remember the important stuff,” said Cowhidey.

“I’m sorry for getting so upset about the cell phone that you seem to constantly forget to buy me even though I’ve asked you to do it like a million time already,” said the ghost. “It’s just hard adjusting to non-existent life, you know?”

“Don’t worry your pretty non-existent head,” said Cowhidey. “You got me to make it better!”

Meanwhile, Squirrely had just finished threatening her journalism teacher, Professor Newspapery, for the third time with her loaded marshmallow gun. Despite its lack of imminent danger, Professor Newspapery was getting annoyed.

“Look, Squirrely,” said Professor Newspapery, “I don’t care if you have a dental appointment on the twenty-fifth, that’s when were taking the test!”

Squirrely popped him between his newspaper eyes (these are eyes that have been situated to fit a plastic newspaper squeak toy; use your imagination) with a marshmallow. His face turned red as his once liberating demeanor faded to anger. Squirrely quickly put her marshmallow gun away and politely sat back down in her desk.

“Anyway,” said Professor Newspapery after taking a deep breath, “I’m going to be giving you your first journalism assignment. You should have it completed in one month. Squirrely, since you have been so eager to participate in class today, I’ll give you your assignment first.”

Squirrely braced herself.

“I want you,” said Professor Newspapery, “to interview the prestigious leader of a famous political movement.”

“Dammit,” muttered Squirrely.

Meanwhile, Froggy, Giraffey, and Monkeyy had just gotten back to their crappy apartment from a fun filled day at the zoo. Laughing at an obscene joke involving a rhinoceros and a lawyer of the Polish persuasion, Froggy jimmied their apartment door open to find Cowhidey sitting on their couch and watching TV with an unusually familiar, girl ghost.

“Cowhidey,” questioned Giraffey, “who is this?”

“Oh hey guys!” said Cowhidey. “Guys, I’d like you to meet the ghost of Miley Cyrus’s dead Twitter page.”

The ghost absently continued to text on her new cell phone.

Next time in The New Adventures of Chew Toys, I type words… good words.

Part 13

Part 13

Last time, the chew toys arrived outside of their crappy apartments after they had a wild adventure of killing vampires and falling in love. You should have read it; it was really neat.

“It feels good to be home,” said Froggy as he jimmied his apartment door open because his crappy key never worked.

“Now that that’s over with,” said Giraffey. “What are we going to do for the rest of the day?”

Squirrely looked at her cell phone’s clock.

“Oh no! I need to get to class,” she said as she ran out of the apartments and down the street to Kooky’s Taco Palace where she had left her car.

“Yeah,” said Cowhidey, “… I got this thing… I gotta do. I’ll see you guys later.”

“I guess it’s just us,” said Froggy to Giraffey and Monkeyy.

The apartment was a two bedroom with one working bathroom, a kitchen, and a Playstation. They had another bathroom at one point in time, but nobody had seen it in months. An old, dusty couch sat in front of a rectangular den table with missing glass tops. Across from this was a half empty bean bag chair, facing what we’ll just call an entertainment center (a fold out table with a TV placed on top). They stared at the apartment as if deciding whether or not they wanted to go any further inside.

“I kinda hate this place,” said Monkeyy.

“Want to go to the zoo?” asked Giraffey. They all agreed and left.

Meanwhile, Squirrely had just made it to her first Journalism class of the semester. She promptly scurried into the classroom, her books and papers held to her chest, and took a seat at a desk close to the door.

“Good afternoon class,” said the professor.

“Good afternoon, Professor Newspapery,” said the class room of assorted chew toys. Squirrely, feeling the normal stress she always felt this time of year, organized her papers and didn’t say anything.

“Did everyone get their book?” asked Professor Newspapery. Squirrely proudly shifted her Journalism book to the top of her desk. The first book store she tried to buy it at had sold out, forcing her to drive out of her way to get it at another store which only carried the new, more expensive copies. It was a pain, but she got it.

“Good,” said the professor. “Now throw them away!”

A wave of gasps echoed through the classroom. Some students were laughing. Some were smiling. Squirrely, however, was pissed.

“What?” she said blatantly.

“Throw them away!” said the professor flamboyantly. “You won’t be needing them for this class!”

Squirrely gritted her teeth, “I had to drive to another campus to get this- I nearly paid two hundred dollars for it!”

“Well you could just get a refu-”

Squirrely pulled out a loaded marshmallow gun, “We’re using the text book!”

Meanwhile, Cowhidey was acting like he was going to the bar when he suddenly took a sharp left into a neatly kept graveyard. This was odd behavior for Cowhidey who was fond of saying things like, “Dead people suck” and “Graveyards suck.”

What was even stranger was his purchasing of a box of Lucky Charms cereal and a rose shortly before making the sudden left turn.

Next time in the New Adventures, Squirrely gets her first Journalism assignment, and Cowhidey has issues. See you then !

Part 12

Part 12

Last time, Cowhidey had just killed David Bowie’s character from The Labyrinth who also happened to be the vampire of all vampires.

“WHAT DID YOU DO!?” screamed Squirrely; a big David Bowie fan.

“Stabbed David Bowie in the heart with a pencil,” said Cowhidey; a not so big David Bowie fan. “I thought that’s what we were up here to do!”

“Yeah,” said Squirrely, “but you weren’t suppose to kill David Bowie, Cowhidey! We were supposed to see if there was a better way- a way that didn’t involve killing David freaking Bowie!!!”

“What the hell?!” said Cowhidey. “It worked didn’t it? Everyone that’s not a vampire raise your hand.” Everyone raised their hand.

“You’re not a vampire anymore, Froggy?!” asked Giraffey.

“My desire for blood is gone, so I guess not!” Froggy smiled. They both laughed as Froggy embraced Giraffey in a twirling hug which ended in a passionate kiss. Harry Potter and Monkeyy smiled. Squirrely on the other hand, grabbed a nearby bottle of wine, and went after Cowhidey.

“You better run!” she yelled as Cowhidey ducked and dodged her swinging blows. Having dislikes for Cowhidey one way or the other, nobody tried to stop her. Eventually, however, she got tired of missing and wore herself out.

“Well,” said Harry, “what’s done is done. Let’s all get back to our proper stories, and leave me alone.”

“You’re already going to leave us, Harry?” asked Froggy.

“Can’t really say I blame you,” said Monkeyy.

“Just remember our deal,” said Harry. “I help you with the vampire thing, and you guys never bother me with these stupid adventures again, right?”

“Right,” said Froggy. “Hey, and thanks again.”

Harry looked almost guilty for being so short with them, but the reality of all the crap they caused quickly sunk in. He pulled out his wand and waved it while reciting some devil worshiping chant, whisking himself back to Hogwarts and the chew toys back to Tyler, Texas.

The chew toys materialized in front of their shared apartment to the sound of a guy arguing over the price of a prostitute. Two gun shots snapped somewhere in the distance following the squeal of burning tires.

“It feels good to be home,” said Froggy.

Little did our chew toy friends know, but a mysterious and evil entity was laughing from behind the polished skin of an oak wood desk. Laughing and waiting…