“Better pop open those peepers, Smokey! Because I’m about to put some pepper on this one!” Janine declared, taking a more serious pitcher’s stance. She even raised her leg and everything.

You decided to humor her, and waggled your sword around like an impatient batter.

“No more!” Mercy begged.

“Just one more. I promise.” you said. “I really wanna knock this one out of the park.”

>79

Mercy coiled tighter around you, and you felt an itching sensation around your tailbone, but you ignored it all, and focused on the fireball still firmly clutched in Janine’s hands.

The green witch girl wound her arm up, and launched the flaming projectile in an underhand pitch that shot towards you in the blink of an eye. The fireball zig-zagged wildly as it flew, leaving a winding comet-tail as the only thing connecting it to Janine’s hand.

You watched it closely, waiting for it to rapidly change trajectory. And when it did, you were ready-

“There you guys are! These streets are too damn confusing.”

You lost focus, turning around to glance back at Deadhead. He was approaching the shop, entirely unaware of the thing hurtling past you, and now at him. And in the next second, Deadhead was fully engulfed in flames.

“WHAT THE FU-AAAAAH!”

You gasped, dropped your sword, and used your free hand to muffle a cry. Janine froze, her delighted expression faltering after she saw what she had done. Shaggy was racing around the house, looking for a bucket to fill some water with.

“Water scrolls! We need water scrolls!” he shouted.

Harpy was throwing her head back in wild laughter, not even attempting to rescue Walker from his plight.

You didn’t know what to do, so you recommended the one method that your parents drilled into your head as a child.

“Stop, drop and roll!” you shouted.

Deadhead did exactly that, and several moments later, Shaggy was sprinting towards him with a bundle of scrolls held in his mouth.

—------

Once the screaming had stopped and the fire was put out, everyone was standing in a circle, staring down at Deadhead. He was laying on his back, his breath labored, his flesh still charred and smoldering from the ordeal.

“Sorry…” Janine moaned pitifully, clutching her witch mask in her hands tightly.

“Yeah, Shaggy warned us not to play with fire.” you added. “We should’ve listened.”

“Yes. You should have.” the dog huffed.

“Holy shit…he can talk.” Deadhead said, turning his head towards Shaggy.

The old dog let out a weary sigh.

“But seriously,” you cut in. “You lit up like a Christmas tree back there! Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Oh yeah, no worries. I took some anti-inflammatory medication earlier.” he said, right before going into a rasping, laughing cough. That sounded like it hurt.

Shaggy groaned and placed a paw between his eyes.

(Cont.)