by Kell Inkston
*BANG*
…*BANG*
The writhing parasite coughs up its last spit of shifting, acrid blood, and the other Colette kicks it off into the water. Grancis puts away her gun, and comes forward with a bland gaze. A disappointed Boris steps back as Colette and Grancis look at one another.
“Is that really how you knew I was the real one?” Colette asks.
Grancis nods. “Yeah. I thought we… we were better friends than we are, I guess.”
There’s an awkward silence, because even though they find themselves victorious, they feel like the only way they came to their win was by learning more about each other than they’d have liked. “Sorry, Grancis- I’ve been a bad friend, but I still think that it wasn’t reasonable of you to assume I’d know all that, or remember everything perfectly.”
Grancis sighs, and hugs her friend. “It’s okay if you’d kill me— I’d let you,” she says, wiping her tears with Colette’s shoulder. Neither have anything else to say, but Colette embraces Grancis in return and the two just stand there a moment in front of Boris, who still has a blazing chemical fire on his face.
“WELL, I AM GLAD YOU TWO ARE BEING OF THE FRIENDSHIP, BUT WHAT AM I TO BE DOING OF THE FOOD?”
Grancis sighs with humor. “I don’t know, Boris.”
Boris spits out a quart of brackish water. “THIS IS OF THE OKAY. I’LL SIMPLY BE FINDING OF THE SOMETHING ELSE TO BE OF THE BREAKFAST MAKING. WOULD YOU TWO LIKE TO BE OF THE FISHING FOR ME?” Boris says.
“It’s still pitch black out,” Colette says.
“THAT IS JUST OF THE MEANING THAT THE FISHES ARE OF THE BIGGER, AND MORE FUN!”
Colette and Grancis exchange gazes for a moment, and approve jointly. Boris gives them some rods, holy water, and large knives, and they cast their lines.
