The Girlfriend, The Witch, and the Taco Bell

In moments like these, when you've lost all bearings and find yourself in unfamiliar country, observing the fundamental Rules of Survival will often make the difference between life and ****. First and foremost of these rules is this: It's the Taco Bell you don't see coming that is most likely to kill you.

Still, you and your girlfriend have apparently tumbled between worlds and into...someplace. The safety of Isabelle's home is long gone, and the dark, towering forest that's replaced it is the sort of place that begins with two lost children and ends with an old crone sifting teeth and shoes out of a bubbling cauldron. And staying put is not an option; you've become aware of a buzzing sound that's faint now, but beginning to grow louder.

So really, is the choice to wander through these mysterious woods or stand around until, like, nightmare wasps lay eggs in your butt all that much better than the peril represented by this paradoxically normal-looking Taco Bell?

It's honestly a pretty close call. "Isabelle, I vote we check out the Taco Bell."

"Are you sure? What if it's a trap?"

"What sort of trap?"

Isabelle shrugs, eyeing the suspiciously innocuous fast-food franchise with distrust. "I mean, what if it's like a pitcher plant type situation? It lures in unsuspecting late-night stoners with the promise of tacos, but the moment they're through the door? Blam, digested forever."

"...Isabelle, I vote we check out the drive through."

"Agreed."

You take each other's hand, lean in for a resolved kiss, and then cautiously approach the Taco Bell's pick up window. Or more accurately, you get in line. Because yeah, there's a goddamn line. Someone has carved facsimiles of cars out of wooden logs and set them to rotate around the out of place building, pausing briefly at the intercom and then again at the two windows before pulling around the building and getting back in line. They even have drivers; the plum-purple car in front of you has a woodpecker perched on its steering wheel, hammering away, while the canary yellow faux vehicle that politely waits for you to take your spot before moving into position behind is helmed by a large, particularly impatient-looking frog.

You currently rate your chances of not getting turned into mice or some shit and being **** to go through this drive through lane for all eternity at, like, less than zero percent.

But it's too late. You're in line now.

When you reach the intercom, you realize Isabelle is staring at you. Aw fuck, does she expect you to take lead on this? Fuckin...whatever. You clear your throat, trying to ignore the fact that the cars behind you are honking their horns at the hold-up and that said horns sound exactly like crying babies. "Um...hello? Is this...Taco Bell?"

The shrieking horns fall silent at that, the entire forest falls silent at that, leaving behind only the sound of Isabelle's anxious foot shuffling and your increasingly nervous breath. God you can fucking feel that frog glaring a hole into your back. The moment stretches on and on, and on and on, and you're just about to put in a panic order for nachos and run when the intercom crackles to life. ".......yes, this is Taco Bell. Who is this? Did you learn to talk, Frog?"

Isabelle claps her hands over her mouth to plug in her gasp as you quickly try to seize onto the opening. "No, we're not frog! I mean, we're not frogs, we're humans! We're...looking for help?"

The silence that follows is interrupted twice by the intercom sputtering to life, only to fall dead without any response, and once by the frog sounding a croaking rumble of annoyance. Then, the voice crackles out again. "...okay, pull up." You share a glance with Isabelle, shrug helplessly, and then start forward.

The drive through window slides open as you approach it, and whatever it was you were expecting to emerge from inside, it was not a pretty-if-annoyed-looking girl with a whale sprout ponytail, suspenders and bright red lightning bolt shaped earrings. Earrings that dangle from ears that are much longer and pointier than you'd expect and okay, you suppose that part does add up. But you have no idea why she looks like she was transplanted here from a mall food court circa nineteen eighty-seven.

The unfathomably retro elf (?) snaps her gum in irritation, rolling her eyes so dramatically that she doesn't actually get a look at you until she's almost finished her sentence. "Look, Frog, for the last time, we are broken up and I don't believe you've changed or that eep--!"

She cuts off when she finally realizes who she is talking to, doubling back and eyes going wide with shock as you offer a helpless little wave. "Um, hi?"

The eighties fey girl's jaw drops open, then she closes it again, and when she finally does speak, she can barely offer more than a dazed mumble. "You're...human?"

"Yes? Um...sorry? About that?"

For whatever reason that seems to animate the girl, who whips an arm heavy with jelly bracelets through the window to point at you accusingly. "You trespass in these enchanted lands, mortal! What business have you with the Forever Court?!"

Isabelle decides she might as well try to step in. "Um, we didn't mean to intrude, but we need..."--she trails off as she notices the strange girl's eyes taking in her own rather retro ensemble, a curious look shadowing her otherwise elfin features--"...um, yes? Hello there?"

"You're dressed like..." The girl's eyes sparkle, Isabelle shooting you a look of wild significance at the very much familiar rainbow sheen dancing across her vision. She gives you both another once over, eyebrows slowing rising. "You're...warded?" She gasps in utter disbelief. "You're warded~!"

The tantalizing glimmer of Hope has begun to shimmer tantalizingly in the distance. "Yes! We are warded! I cast those spells!"

The Taco Bell girl gasps again, then abruptly slinks down and gives you both a deeply mistrustful look. Fuck, that glimmer is fading fast. She snaps her gum again, then plants her elbows on the window sill and narrows an eye at you. "Okay then, humans. What gift is it you seek?"

Okay shit, there is no chance this isn't some sort of fairy tale trick bullshit and no chance you aren't getting a one way ticket to Mice City. Isabelle's face has gone completely blank as you feverishly try to suss out a way to escape this rhetorical **** trap. Fuck, her expression is darkening and she's definitely reaching for something behind the counter. You're gonna ask to go home and she'll be all like 'Home is where the heart is!' and tear your hearts out or some other Cryptkeeper bullshit, and then--
__

"We, uh, only seek Mother Fulla's embrace, like all dutiful children."

You and the elf both stare at Isabelle, who's trying to keep up a charade of composure through like a waterfall of flop sweat. You're moments away from grabbing the frog and throwing it through the window as a distraction when the retro fey girl lets out another gasp, though it quickly melts into a strangled **** rattle as her hands shoot to her throat. She blinks twice in rapid succession, wets her lips, and then glances back at you sheepishly. "...I, um, swallowed my gum."

"...Bummer, dude."

The elf shakes off her lingering embarrassment, her pretty face splitting in a wide grin. "Anyways, yes! A thousand times yes! Yes yes yes! I can't believe you came back! You came back during my shift! Maerel is gonna be so jealous!" She slips cat-like out the drive through window, barely taking a moment to adjust her off-shoulder top before restarting her verbal barrage. "Are you her disciples? Are you here to take her home? To cure her?!"

Isabelle shakes her head, clearly choosing her words very carefully. "No, um, we're just...here for a visit."

The girl considers that, cocking her head to one side, then sticks her tongue out in a silly expression and gives her head a shake. "Ugh, why am I wasting so much time? Her Highness'll probably ask you all this stuff anyways! Come on; follow me!" She claps her hands, barely waiting for the door that bursts out of a nearby tree to fully emerge before she's scampering through it, beckoning for you to follow. You and Isabelle share a look, then take each others hands and shrug again. In for a penny, in for a pound.

The arboreal portal closes behind you, but not before the mutterings of a deep, toady voice waft in behind you. "'Bout time. Slow ass bitches, holdin' up the whole line."

You don't have the time to consider that fresh insanity, or even the fact that your surroundings have somehow taken a further turn towards the Otherworldly, because the retro girl who's become your guide won't stop talking. You can only nod along as you try to follow and simultaneously gape at the beautiful towers and bejeweled streets of the enchanted city you and Isabelle have been lead to. You do you best to return the waves and gasped greetings of the pointy-eared gawkers drawn in by the commotion, each and every one dressed for an eighties throwback party.

Isabelle hisses a whisper at you. "A hole in my yard took us to Cyndi Lauper Presents Lord of the Rings."

"Not a bad date, right?" She prods you in the shoulder, and you quickly sneak in a question you're **** to ask. "What was all that stuff about embraces and...whoever?!"

Isabelle allows herself a self-satisfied little smile as she pushes up her glasses. "It was something I read in the Book. I've been working through this section about ancient times or whatever, and what she said sounded like the call and response that the devoted would use. It was a wild swing, but it worked."

You grin, just about to shower your proud girlfriend with praise when you realize that your guide has just repeated something, this time more empathically. "Oh sorry, um, what was that?"

"I said, you agree, right? That Taco Bell is better than Wendy's?"

You blink, the retro girl's eyebrows raised in anticipation. Fuck, every single one of the gathered elves is waiting with bated breath. "...yes. Fuck that red-headed dump truck."

The crowd bursts into ecstatic cheers, your guide literally skipping in joy as she leads you up the stairs to what is clearly a palace or temple or something. You're met at the doors by a serious looking elf boy with tightly gelled hair and a jean jacket, his sharp ears, rose-colored eyes and the sword strapped to his back the only indications he's not the new sixth member of New Kids on the Block. "Nlossae, why aren't you still at oh wait what are those humans?!"

Your guide flaps her hand dismissively at the shocked young man. "Don't just stand there Prince Rhys; the Queen is waiting!"

Okay, so this dude's a Prince, and you guess you're all just rolling with that because you've got to meet the goddamn Queen in a second. The boy gives you and Isabelle a deep bow, Nlossae tittering at his formality as she waves goodbye and he beckons for you to follow him. He keeps his voice low as he starts down the long, tapestry-strewn hallway, his pace very brisk. "Okay, first off; I'm Rhys and it's a pleasure. Sort of a crazy huge one. It's technically Prince Rhys but you really don't have to bother."

"Um, okay Rhys; I'm Ash."

"I'm Isabelle; are we really going to meet the Queen?!"

He nods, his lips somewhat pursed. "Yes. Which is why I'm glad I have this moment to ask that please, please when you meet Her Highness, don't--"

A loud crash followed by some truly passionate swearing interrupts Rhys's debriefing. "Aw, shit. Fuck! Fuckin'...grah!"

He sighs as another rattling thump sounds out, then he turns to lead you away from the ornate throne that waits ahead and towards a room off to one side. "...Please don't judge her too harshly, okay?"

With that he throws open the door, revealing a girl who couldn't be a day older than you desperately trying and failing to hide a huge pile of dirty clothes in an already overstuffed closet. She's certainly beautiful, with her full mouth and slinky figure and little blonde bob, but the neon windbreaker and midriff exposing top don't exactly scream 'royalty'.

She freezes when she sees you entering, pastel-pink hued eyes wide as she apparently tries to decide whether or not your vision is based on movement. She must decide that no, it isn't, because she drops her armful of clothes and rips the Goonies poster off the wall, using it to cover the shameful pile in what she's apparently deciding is a good enough effort. She frantically leaps onto her canopy bed, flails her arms to send the magazines and empty chip bags littering it flying, then adopts what must be intended as a regal pose and pretends absolutely none of that stuff just happened.

"Hey! I'm Donna, Queen of the Elves!" She shoots you, the equally stunned Isabelle and the entirely mortified Prince Rhys a pair of finger guns. "What's up?!"