Where the Lines Overlap
Excerpt from Ch. 10;
As we lay on the ground, waiting for the blind old sorceress to smite somebody on accident, I couldn't help but remember just a day prior.
Rachel had been experimenting at the apothecary again. One of many attempts to recreate shampoo, which was taking forever because most of the time we made weird half-breed substances or they smelled so bad we had to scrap the whole batch. This was one of those batches.
Rachel bent over the tub and took a deep inhale of the boiling liquid.
"This one's weird! I can't decide if it smells like...infected piss..........or...." She trailed off, staring into space. I assumed she was reliving her support-worker days where she would have to bathe old people. That's usually where she remembers awful smells from.
I decided to brave the stench (I'd helped my dog give birth twice before, I was tough) and took a deep breath.
Unpleasant, sharp, utter stench filled my nose. I couldn't decipher it either. I took another breath.
Human waste, definitely. But with a....citrus-y edge?
We looked at each other and shrugged. Bad batch.
On the walk to the sewage field with our barrel of unnamed stink, we passed by the young and beautiful orphan Arthur mysteriously rescued and sort-of adopted. We got within six feet of her and she started dry-heaving and ran for it.
We high-fived because we figured she was evil somehow. Oh how right we were.
Now we were on the dirt floor of her crazy cave while she created some sort of lovely smelling potion and all four of us were tied up like pigs.
Merlin had long ago knocked out Arthur for free use of magic, but it didn't really get us anywhere. This was when I got the idea.
"Rachel!" I hissed at her. She sighed loudly.
"Take off your socks!" I hissed louder.
She gave me a look. You know, like you're-on-meth. A look.
"You haven't washed them for two weeks!" I replied.
Understanding dawned on her and her expression quickly turned right evil. She slipped off her purple pumas (which she wore with most of her medieval dresses...go figure) and worked off her socks.
The legendary stink of Rachel's feet hit my nose. Though I'd smelled it a few times before, it was bracing still.
Merlin looked disgusted and cried "AUGH! What IS that?!" which, of course, caused the cranky witch to turn around and take a huge breath to yell at us to shut-up.
Before she could scream 'OVERLY-CLEAN VULTURES' at us one more time, she gagged so hard she fell backwards into her magical pot, which magically sealed with a big iron lid.
We all stared in silence for a moment before I started laughing so hard I almost peed.
As we lay on the ground, waiting for the blind old sorceress to smite somebody on accident, I couldn't help but remember just a day prior.
Rachel had been experimenting at the apothecary again. One of many attempts to recreate shampoo, which was taking forever because most of the time we made weird half-breed substances or they smelled so bad we had to scrap the whole batch. This was one of those batches.
Rachel bent over the tub and took a deep inhale of the boiling liquid.
"This one's weird! I can't decide if it smells like...infected piss..........or...." She trailed off, staring into space. I assumed she was reliving her support-worker days where she would have to bathe old people. That's usually where she remembers awful smells from.
I decided to brave the stench (I'd helped my dog give birth twice before, I was tough) and took a deep breath.
Unpleasant, sharp, utter stench filled my nose. I couldn't decipher it either. I took another breath.
Human waste, definitely. But with a....citrus-y edge?
We looked at each other and shrugged. Bad batch.
On the walk to the sewage field with our barrel of unnamed stink, we passed by the young and beautiful orphan Arthur mysteriously rescued and sort-of adopted. We got within six feet of her and she started dry-heaving and ran for it.
We high-fived because we figured she was evil somehow. Oh how right we were.
Now we were on the dirt floor of her crazy cave while she created some sort of lovely smelling potion and all four of us were tied up like pigs.
Merlin had long ago knocked out Arthur for free use of magic, but it didn't really get us anywhere. This was when I got the idea.
"Rachel!" I hissed at her. She sighed loudly.
"Take off your socks!" I hissed louder.
She gave me a look. You know, like you're-on-meth. A look.
"You haven't washed them for two weeks!" I replied.
Understanding dawned on her and her expression quickly turned right evil. She slipped off her purple pumas (which she wore with most of her medieval dresses...go figure) and worked off her socks.
The legendary stink of Rachel's feet hit my nose. Though I'd smelled it a few times before, it was bracing still.
Merlin looked disgusted and cried "AUGH! What IS that?!" which, of course, caused the cranky witch to turn around and take a huge breath to yell at us to shut-up.
Before she could scream 'OVERLY-CLEAN VULTURES' at us one more time, she gagged so hard she fell backwards into her magical pot, which magically sealed with a big iron lid.
We all stared in silence for a moment before I started laughing so hard I almost peed.