Potion of the Hound

by Alicia Scarborough

  “This should work,” Agnes says, stepping back.

  Ms. Pinkerton’s tail shifts madly to and fro as she looks down at the plate on which rests a glob of white pudding substance. Helga watches her intently. Ms. Pinkerton’s hand shakes as she reaches for the spoon. With the spoon in hand she scoops up a small portion.

  The bite-size glob jiggles as she brings it close to her mouth. Helga leans in more. Just as Ms. Pinkerton is about to put the spoon fully into her mouth, Helga shouts, “Slug-a-fy!” and without the aid of a wand points her index finger at the white pudding dish.

  The glob shudders and then turns into a mound of white slugs. Ms. Pinkerton screams, dropping her spoon as a single white slug clings to it as it falls back onto the table. The slugs ooze over the surface as they try to scatter.

  The sisters gasp except for Helga who laughs and laughs and laughs until she falls out of her chair.

  Higgins jumps up. “Now see here!” His face turns several shades of violet.

  Her sisters snap to attention but not Helga, who continues to laugh.

  “This is the most unruly establishment that I have been to.” His voice strains to an octave higher as he points to each of the sisters, lamenting, “You three cannot even reverse a simple curse on a mere mortal without some harebrained concoction.”

  He steps towards Ms. Pinkerton who jumped away from the table and is staring in horror at the plate of slugs. “This, ladies, will not do . . .”

  Higgins, pausing to mop his wet brow, goes on to say, “Any certified witch or wizard of the 1st or 2nd Order should be able to undo a curse on a mortal with a mere snap of their own fingers.” He snaps his fingers, and Ms. Pinkerton returns to her normal self.

  Next Ms. Pinkerton runs from the shop along with the remaining customers.

  The girls scan the shop to find it now empty. The only people in the shop are Higgins and themselves.

  Helga scowls and gets up from the floor. “Now hold on, Mr. High and Mighty. Your papers should tell you that neither my sisters nor I are witches of the 1st or 2nd Order.”

  Higgins’s mouth presses to a thin line as Helga continues, “We are in the 3rd Order, which deals with potions, or as YOU say it—concoctions.” She jabs her finger on his chest, adding, “And we’re quite happy staying witches of the 3rd Order!”

  His nose twitches making his bushy mustache move, as he sneers, “Another violation.”

  “What? For poking you in the chest?” Helga mocks.

  “No,” Higgins says, “You three are in violation of owning a shop when you are only witches of the 3rd order. You cannot own a shop and sell potions to others unless ONE of YOU is of the 1st or 2nd Order . . . unless you have a permit. Do you have one?”

  “Of course we do, you baboon!” Helga shouts, “My sister Agnes went and got one. Didn’t you Agnes?”

  Agnes pipes up, “Yes, I did. It was a nice lady with light blond hair who issued it to me.”

  Higgins asks, “Do you remember her name?”

  Tapping a finger on her chin, Agnes thinks for a moment and then replies, “Uh, Mrs. Crabapple, I think.”

  Higgins blinks, the color faint from his face, and steps back, remarking, “There is no ‘Mrs. Crabapple’ in the Order.”

  Agnes maintains, “Surely you must be mistaken. She is the one that handles all the permits down in the Permit Department, for the lady herself explained to me that she had been issuing them for years.”

  “Madam, there has never been a Mrs. Crabapple in the Permit Department, for Officer Torres has been handling that department for over fifty years. We have no record of a woman handling that post, even as a substitute.”

  Ursa shows up with the permit. “Here it is,” she states, handing it to Higgins.

  He takes the document and then frowns, shaking his head. “I am sorry, my dear, but this document is a fake. It heavies my heart, but it is apparent that this place must be closed down.”

  Helga pushes her sisters out of the way, getting right up into Higgins’s face. “OH NO, you are NOT closing our shop down! I can’t allow some stuffy Order of Magic Official to throw us out into the street. Not this time.”

  “Step aside,” Higgins demands of Helga.

  “No, I will not step aside,” decides Helga with arms crossed.

  “I was ONLY going to issue a warning to you three. HOWEVER, with the overwhelming pile of complaints and not to mention the various warnings and citations that you have gained today, it is proof enough that you should NOT have this shop at all. I am afraid that I will have to close you three down.”

  Helga threatens, “Do it, and I will turn you into a toad.”

  He glares at her sideways and growls, “I’d like to see you try. Another citation for your idle threat.”

  With a snap of his fingers the shutters close and the door sign reverses to read ‘CLOSED’ to anyone on the outside. Higgins turns back to the three sisters, solemnly stating, “I, Officer Higgins, in the best interest of the Order and as an officiate of the Order of Magic, hereby claim this illegal establishment to be closed.”

  Pushing up her sleeves and pulling back her arm, Helga starts to follow through with the bewitching—

  “HELGA!” her sisters shout, jumping forward, “NO!!”

  4

  The Slip

  Just as Helga is about to release her spell, her sisters knock her down to the floor—face first. The weight of the two sisters knocks the wind out of her, making her go, “Oomph.”

  Helga struggles to get up but falls right back down. She gasps, “Get off me!”

  “No, Helga,” Ursa declares.

  “UGH! Get off,” Helga again gasps, all the while trying to get up again but failing.

  Agnes scolds Helga, “No. We won’t let you turn that nice man into a toad.”

  Between gulps of air, Helga forces out, “Nice man? . . . NICE . . . MAN? . . . YOU . . . NIN . . . COM . . . POOP! . . . HAVE . . . YOU . . . FOR . . . GOT . . . TEN. . . AL . . . READ . . . Y?”

  Higgins glares down at the three sisters and then sniffs, “I rest my case.” With that he turns towards the door, takes a step, pauses, turns slightly, and then beckons Helga, commanding, “Ms. Helga, you will need to come with me.”

  “BITE ME!” she bellows as much as she can under her two sisters’ weight.

  Cocking his head to the side and then looking at the older sisters, he states, “I will insist on escorting Ms. Helga down to the station after her failed attempt to turn me into a toad. Please remove yourselves, so that I may take her with me.”

  Ursa jumps up, runs over to Higgins, hangs onto his arm, and starts to plead with him, “NO! You can’t! PLEASE! She’s just being difficult! That’s how she always is. . .”

  Agnes, eyeing the exchange between Ursa and Higgins, stays on top of Helga to keep her from doing anything else stupid. Helga, struggling and wiggling like a worm, tries but cannot move out from under Agnes. She’s trapped for the time being.

  “I am truly sorry, my dear, but your sister has committed many offenses today.” Higgins removes Ursa from his arm, maintaining, “She must be brought in to face the charges.”

  Ursa starts to pout. Her ruby red lips jut out perfectly while her eyes begin brimming with tears.

  Higgins, not wanting her to cry, responds, “Now, don’t cry. I am truly sorry, but I cannot ignore the law, and neither can you or your sisters. You have to admit that Helga was in the wrong, especially for her actions this morning.”

  A single tear rolls down Ursa’s cheek, and her lips start to quiver. Helga mutters under her breath, “Atta girl, Ursa. Work those tears, you shrewd little canary.” Agnes smacks Helga in the head with her trusty spatula wand, “OUCH! Agnes, that hurt!”

  Agnes, bouncing on Helga and knocking more wind out of her, responds, “Then be quiet.” Helga grumbles and continues to watch Ursa and Higgins from her viewpoint on the floor.

  “You just can’t,” Ursa sniffles and then hides her face in her hands, sobbing, “Afte
r . . . all . . . we’ve . . . been . . . through . . .”

  Higgins goes over to Ursa and puts his arm around her. “There, there, child. It’ll be alright.”

  “NO! IT WON’T!” She pulls away and looks at him with tears streaking down her face. “Cause I won’t have my little sis . . . sis . . . siiisstarrrrroOOOOooo.” She covers her face again and cries even harder.

  Higgins’s face softens with the look of a deer caught in the headlights.

  He cringes as Ursa wails even more, and then she adds, “Aannnnnn we dun ‘ave nooooo shoOOOOoooop any. . . any . . . moreooOOOOooooooo . . . Wha shall we doOOooooo for . . . mah . . . mah . . . money? . . . We’ll be homeless . . . ooOOOooo.”

  He takes a handkerchief out of his front pocket and mops the sweat out of his eyes and off of his forehead. He glances over at Ursa whose shoulders shudder with each sob and then over at Agnes who is sitting on top of Helga. Pulling at his necktie, he clears his throat. He grimaces as though he swallowed something bad but continues, “I have had a change of heart, my dear.”

  Ursa sniffs and then peers at Higgins through her hands. Agnes straightens up, and Helga manages to get a hand under her chin to try and make it more comfortable for herself.

  “I have decided to drop the citations against Helga for the various assaults against me, INCLUDING the attempt to turn me into a toad.” Higgins raises his index finger into the air, continuing, “However, I will insist on going through the various allegations with you three to determine if your shop shall remain closed or if we might be able to re-open it on probationary terms.”

  Higgins offers his handkerchief to Ursa. “Here, my dear, dry your tears.”

  Ursa takes the handkerchief, dabs her eyes, and then blows her nose rather loudly into it. She offers it back to him, but he pats her hand. “No, you can keep it, my dear.”

  Ursa whispers, “Thank you.”

  “Now, if you please, ladies, let us adjourn to the table over there.” Higgins indicates to the table to his right. “Ms. Agnes, please allow Ms. Helga to stand up so that she may join us.”

  Agnes, first with a confused look on her face, then crumpling her face a bit into a surprised expression, remarks, “OH! That’s why the floor felt lumpy!” Agnes bolts upward off of Helga. “I’m SOOOO sorry, Helga! I did NOT mean to sit on you. Why were you on the floor? How did you get down there? You know the floor isn’t the best place to take naps . . . you do know that, right?” Agnes offers her hand to Helga to help her up.

  Helga, taking Agnes’s hand, utters, “Well, gee, Agnes, I wonder—how DID I end up on the floor?” She dusts herself off and then steels her gaze at her sister. “Could it be, you forgetful ninny, that I was knocked to the floor by my own flesh and blood to prevent me from casting a spell,” her hand gestures towards Higgins who jumps out of the way, “on that overstuffed blowhard over there?”

  “LADIES! If you do not mind, may we proceed?” Higgins urges them to sit down. “Helga, I will overlook your most previous comments about my appearance if you would take a seat.”

  Agnes’s stomach growls loudly. They all look. She ducks her head and shuffles her feet. “Ah shucks. Sorry about that everyone . . . In all the hubbub I musta forgotten to eat breakfast.”

  Helga and Ursa’s stomachs rumble in response. Ursa adds, “I think we all forgot to have breakfast. Mr. Higgins . . . I can call you ‘Mr. Higgins,’ right? Or is it Officer Higgins?”

  “Mr. Higgins will work, dear.”

  “Right. Mr. Higgins, would you like some breakfast? I would feel rude to eat in front of you.”

  “No, my dear, I have already had breakfast. I was here eating it when you were toying with that poor mortal.”

  Helga interrupts, “Something tells me that you won’t turn down brunch? It IS brunch time after all.”

  A gurgling sound emits from Higgins’s round stomach. He tries to counter his gut’s interjection but is cut off by Agnes who decides, “I’ll take that as a yes. How do you like your eggs, Mr. Higgins?”

  “Scrambled. Bacon crisp but not burnt. Toast should be a golden brown with butter and brown sugar sprinkled.” He adds, “Will you be making waffles, my dear?”

  Agnes responds, “If you want them, I can make them.”

  “Good, I would like a stack of chocolate chip waffles with a side of strawberries and maple syrup.”

  Ursa puts in her order for a small portion of eggs and toast. Helga orders the waffles. Agnes bobs her head and then goes into the kitchen to cook up everyone’s brunch.

  Higgins pulls out a folder that appears to have stacks of papers in it. He starts to separate them into various piles.

  Helga points to the stacks and asks, “Why are you separating those papers into piles? What are they for?”

  “These piles, Ms. Helga,” Higgins replies, “are the various complaints lodged against this establishment.”

  “Huh,” Helga asks, “what’s the biggest one for?”

  He eyes her for a second and then responds, “Those are yours.”

  Shocked, Helga bounces back in her chair, moving it with an audible scrape along the tiled floor. With nothing else to say Helga starts to drum her fingers on the table making popping sounds with her mouth. Ursa, who was attending to her nails, gives her a sideways glance. Higgins clears his throat, scowls, and continues sorting the papers into the piles. He mentally notes that Helga seems to be the only one afraid of the recent complaints.

  Helga stands, asking the group, “Does anyone want any coffee or orange juice?”

  “No,” Ursa chimed.

  “No,” Higgins replies, “Now sit down and be quiet.”

  Helga sits back down and fidgets. She looks back and forth between Ursa, Higgins, and the growing stack of papers that apparently are complaints about her.

  She’s surprised to see so many complaints lodged against her, but then again Higgins could be telling a lie as to whom those papers truly belong to in the first place. For all she knows he is merely sorting out his receipts.

  Her stomach growls. Agnes should be done with their orders, so what’s the hold up? She jumps back up. “I’m going to go check in on Agnes and make sure everything is alright.”

  Higgins growls, “You will do no such thing, Ms. Helga. I am sure that Ms. Agnes is perfectly capable of handling our brunch orders.”

  “Yes, Helga, please listen to Mr. Higgins,” Ursa adds, “I don’t want you to have to go down to the station just because of your attitude.”

  “Ursa, you of all people should know that Agnes has a tendency to forget things,” Helga says, placing her hands on her hips, “For all we know, she could be playing a game of checkers with salami and pepperoni because she got sidetracked and forgot all about our meals.”

  “Oh. You’re right.” Ursa lifts her hand to her mouth. “Then we both should check in on her.”

  Helga holds her hand up, stopping Ursa. “No need to send in the whole party. I’m capable of seeing what Agnes is up to in the —”

  Higgins interrupts, “NO funny business, Ms. Helga.”

  With a small curtsy towards Higgins, Helga offers, “Of course not, sir,” and then rushes to the kitchen, leaving Ursa and Higgins at the table.

  The smell of burning bacon reaches Helga’s nose. Immediately she heads to the stove and moves the frying pan off of the eye of the flame.

  The waffles are a mess as some are partially cooked and others burnt to a crisp. The only thing that appears to have survived are the eggs and toast.

  Grabbing four plates Helga proceeds to dish out portions of the edible food. She looks around for Agnes, who is not in the kitchen.

  “Agnes?” Helga calls, “Agnes, are you in here?”

  Nothing.

  “Agnes, where are you?” Helga calls out again.

  “In here,” sounds Agnes’s voice from within the pantry closet.

  Helga takes five large steps towards the pantry and opens the door. “What are you doing in there?”

  “I was lookin
g for some spices and got locked in,” Agnes explains with a sheepish grin.

  Closing one of her eyes, Helga squints at Agnes. “Got locked in, huh?”

  “Yes, you know we have a playful spirit here that likes to do things like that . . .” she trails off.

  Helga eyes the bottles in Agnes’s hands, questioning, “So what did you find in here?”

  Shaken out of her daze, Agnes hands a few bottles to Helga, saying, “Oh, not much. Some of our old Toady Day potion, turmeric, some red pepper, Super Pep, a half bottle of Blow Down the Hatches.”

  Giggling, Helga looks at the two bottles in her hands, Toady Day and Blow Down the Hatches. “You remember these, Agnes? These were when we FIRST opened our shop.”

  Stifling a laugh, Agnes snorts, “Why yes, I do remember them. HA! What fun we had on the mortals at that time. The fart potion was the bestseller then.”

  Chuckling, Helga says, “Yeah, too bad the Order of Magic had to be a bunch of sticks in the mud about it. We would have made a mint if we could have kept on selling these two potions, or at least the fart potion.”

  “Well, Helga, Toady Day wasn’t so popular. If you remember. Most girls did not like it when their boyfriends came home trailing toads. Nor did they like the first side effects, which were similar to those of Blow Down the Hatches.”

  “Crazy how YOU can remember that but have a hard time remembering other things,” Helga ribs Agnes.

  “Huh? What are we talking about again?” Agnes deadpans Helga, “Naw, jus’ kidding.”

  Agnes looks over at the remains of brunch, wrinkles her nose, and then sticks her tongue out.

  “Looks like I screwed up brunch, huh?” she asks Helga.

  “Not too bad, Agnes. Higgins will just have to deal with eggs and toast. I can make do with what we have.”

  Agnes shrugs. “Okay then.” She gathers the four plates and is about to head out of the kitchen when Helga stops her.

  “Wait!” Helga calls after Agnes.