A Discordic Summertime Blues Part II
The Patio’s Patio Flagstaff Arizona: We had just left or tragic heroes being confronted by the fungi of Yoggoth, the horror from space, a Migo, which is also known as a toadstool with an attitude, or the last ingredient I would ever want to put onto my pizza.
These queeros, I mean heroes, all jumped into action in their own way, each using their sharpest strengths to deal with the terror that hovered above them on its undulating wings. Tony Ballz hurried to finish his Tacos just in case something went wrong, because he knew something always went wrong. Zano entered into the restaurant, while calling over his shoulder, “This must be your problem, Bone. Every time someone or something tries to kill us it’s usually your fault, except for those monkeys we dressed in bikinis, I’ll take credit for that one.” Greg kept his cool and figured he might as well film everything, even if he probably was about to die or even worse, get stuck with the bill. Cokie hid under one of the corn hole games, but claimed she was only searching for a plot.
So what did I do, left almost on my own and facing the fungus among us? Besides swearing… and finishing my IPA… and eating the second half of Zano’s dinner… I grabbed up some corn-hole beans bags of course. Well it turns out that giant crosses between mushrooms, squid and, um bats aren’t too affected by bean bags.
It fought back and sprayed an arc of webbing across the table. I managed to leap aside, but Ballz and Greg were caught within its eldritch clutches. Ballz was particularly distressed when he couldn’t reach his beer and Greg said something about how we’d do anything to keep him from leaving Flagstaff.
Just then the owner of The Patio came out and said, “I’m shutting the place down.”
“What? Why?” I yelled. “The Migo hasn’t even destroyed anything yet.”
Ballz said, “Well, it did knock over my beer.”
“Nope,” the owner called out over the flapping of incur encrusted wings. “After you showed your videos here last Monday, so many people swore off ever coming in again, I had to close the place.”
Agitated over being ignored, the Migo cried out and tore at the roof with its talons. “Go ahead,” the owner said, while walking away. “Trash the place. I don’t give a shit, and Bone you still owe me sixty-eight dollars.”
I heard Cokie’s muffled cry from under the corn hole game and suddenly thought of something. “That’s it. The corn hole game!”
“Why?” Ballz asked, “Do Migo hate corn?”
“Yes actually, but they really hate birds and also the entire cast of Game of Thrones, and any word than begins with G, but that doesn’t matter now.” Without another wasted beer, I mean second, I cut open the bags of corn and sprinkled the cornels in every direction. Packs of ravens, pigeons, and Emu descended upon the Migo and it fled as they tore into the fungus like a carload of frat boys on a drunken pizza run.
That was when Zano walked out. “Hey the owner left some beer in there, but it’s all made from corn.”
Corn we all laughed and we froze in place until the waitress brought out the bill.
“Hey, I thought the place was closed.”
“It is and this is my last bill, I printed it up right before the owner cut the power.”
“Oh man… Maybe if we lure the Migo back it will eat her before we have to pay.”