Note: this is part of the Wizards Do Parlor Tricks, I Throttle The Heavens! series.
Note 2: read “Sweater Safe Than Sorry” first.
Deep in the depths of space, on a distant planet, an unusual person reclines in a deckchair.
The deckchair is on the patio of a swimming pool, which is next to a cabana that, believe it or not, is bigger on the inside.
And the pool itself is shaped like a jester’s head, light up with purple and yellow lights.
You’re about to see why.
The reclining person appears to be a man in a purple and yellow jester outfit, with a porcelain harlequin mask. He’s wearing a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses with rainbow rims over the mask, and a pair of rainbow-colored swimming trunks and a matching bikini top over the jester outfit. Completing the ensemble is a pair of flip-flops, and yes, those are rainbow-colored too.
Next to his deckchair, there’s a rainbow-colored parasol, currently closed, and a little table, bearing a beverage more colorful than anything you’d find in any gay bar on Earth.
It has no less than twenty little paper umbrellas.
The jester takes a sip of his drink, ignoring the logistics of drinking with a mask on, sighing in satisfaction.
His deckchair is also rainbow-colored, and if you think this is already an odd scene, buckle up.
Because the planet itself is just as odd.
The sky is an unusual blend of purple and yellow, the sun has a big smiley face, and the grass is colored in patterns of many colors, like someone tie-dyed the entire field. There’s even bits of octarine in there.
Two fluffies, a stallion and a mare, are playing huggie tag, and they’re rainbow-colored too.
“Woki gunna git yu, Ewis!”
There’s trees here and there, and rather than bearing fruit, like you would expect from trees, they’re growing whatever occured to the jester at the time he put them there. One tree seems to be growing french fries, complete with paper containers. Another tree is growing burgers in wrappers.
This planet used to be little more than a lifeless grey rock, until the jester showed up and renovated it into a vacation home, simply because he felt like it. He made a lot of changes.
You should know who he is, and how he can do all of this.
He’s Chaos, duh.
Off in the distance, Chaos can see one of those changes. A herd of creatures, grazing on rainbow grass.
The creatures are quadrupedal, the size of cows, and they have the legs of cows, but their bodies appear to be cow-sized sinks, the kind one would wash the dishes in. Their udders look suspiciously like yellow rubber gloves.
Now it can be said that this headcanon has everything including the kitchen sink.
Chaos senses something. He’s needed elsewhere. Across the universe, on Earth, something bad is about to happen to fluffies, and he’ll have to intervene.
But he doesn’t have to get up.
He’s already there.
Back on Earth, somewhere in the state of Georgia, a pickup truck drives through the forest, half a dozen men riding inside, all of them packing heat, most of them inebriated.
“Yeeeeaaaah!”
“Let’s kill some shitrats!”
“Woo!”
The driver is the only one of them who’s sober, because he’s the one who drew the short straw.
There’s a feral herd living not far from here, blissfully unaware of the danger currently en route to their nest.
Yes, that means that these idiots enjoy killing fluffies for fun, but draw the line at drunk driving.
They’ve really got their priorities in order, huh?
BANG
Suddenly, one of the tires gives out, dampening the men’s spirits as the truck trundles to a stop.
“What the? Aw, damnit!”
“The hell was that?!?”
“Boo!”
When the men get out, they see what caused the flat.
A big, rainbow-colored nail is lodged in the flat tire.
One of the men scratches his head.
“How’d that get here?”
A second man shrugs.
“Relax, we brought a spare tire.”
He points at the tire on the back of the truck, in a black cover.
But when he unzips the tire cover…
zzzzzip
There’s nothing but a tire-sized donut inside it.
With rainbow sprinkles.
The men look at it, all of them thoroughly confused.
“The fuck? How did… okay, we must be really drunk.”
“Guess we gotta push this thing to a garage.”
“Anyone know where there is a garage around here?”
A cheerful, flamboyant voice with a Southern drawl cuts in from nearby.
“I know, where a garage is, y’all…”
The men turn, seeing a certain jester sitting on a hickory stump, now wearing denim overalls with a broken strap over his jester outfit, sawing on a fiddle and playing it hot.
The fiddle is made of solid gold, which should make playing it incredibly impractical, if not outright impossible, but you know who that really is.
He does impossible things all the time. He usually breaks at least a dozen of the laws of physics by lunchtime, and that’s on a slow day.
Chaos puts the fiddle down and pulls a massive double-barrelled shotgun out from behind his back, which he cocks with little effort.
CHK-CHK
And he points the barrels at the men, chuckling.
“It’s back the way you came.”
The men promptly flee, screaming in terror.
One of them stays behind. He’s the drunkest of the group, and he’s about to make a big mistake.
“Now see here, you–”
“ALAKABLAM!!!”
BLAM
Chaos fires the shotgun right at his face.
When the smoke clears, the man is unharmed, but his face is now covered in makeup, eyeshadow and lipstick haphazardly smeared around his eyes and mouth.
Most of his torso and arms are covered in makeup too.
“koff”
As the man coughs out a little cloud of blusher, Chaos laughs.
“That was a warning shot, boyo! I suggest you go after your friends before I show you what else this baby can fire.”
He cocks the shotgun again, to make his point.
CHK-CHK
Then he cocks it a few more times, scattering shells.
CHK-CHK CHK-CHK CHK-CHK
The makeup-covered man throws his hands up in frustration.
“How many shells do you have in that gun?!?”
“I’ve got fifty-seven more goddamn rounds in this four-round magazine!”
The makeup-covered man gives up and runs after his friends.
When he’s gone, Chaos glances at the pick-up truck.
“Shucks, those city slickers went and left their ride behind.”
He points at the busted tire, and suddenly, it’s intact and whole.
Then he points at the engine.
HONK HONK
The truck springs to life, headlights blaring, and it drives itself away, following the abusers, Chaos waving goodbye.
VROOM
“Have fun!”
In Detroit, just across the street from Jeff Robinson’s house, a sketchy man watches Jeff and Electra while hiding behind a car.
Some more prospective buyers have just arrived, Jeff eagerly greeting them and shaking the realtor’s hand, Electra rolling her eyes at how thick he’s laying it on.
Jeff’s been hoping to sell the house as quickly as possible, so he and Electra can leave Detroit, but they haven’t found a buyer yet.
The sketchy man murmurs softly to himself.
“Just gotta wait for Jeff to lead those assholes inside… then I’ll grab that valuable little shitrat and make a breeding pillow outta–”
Someone taps the sketchy man’s shoulder, and he turns, seeing Chaos sitting next to him, in an absolutely horrifying form, glaring at him.
Chaos speaks in a horrid, echoing voice devoid of his usual cheerfulness and flamboyance, and plenty of subdued rage.
"̴Y̵o̶u̷ ̶w̸i̶l̴l̵ ̵d̸o̸ ̵̸n̸o̸t̴h̶i̶n̵g̷̷ ̵o̷f̴ ̵t̷h̸e̷ ̵s̸o̸r̵t̴,̷ ̴f̸o̶o̶l̴.̴ ̴Y̴o̶u̴ ̵a̶r̷e̴ ̷a̴n̴o̶t̴h̴e̷r̷ ̸o̴f̵ ̸J̶e̷f̷f̴’̵s̶ ̵o̷l̷d̴ ̷f̵r̸i̴e̶n̷d̸s̷,̴ ̴y̶e̷s̸?̶ ̴K̸n̵o̴w̵ ̵t̴h̴i̵s̸:̵ ̸J̴e̴f̶f̴ ̷R̴o̷b̵i̵n̷s̸o̶n̵ ̴a̵n̸d̷ ̸E̸l̴e̵c̸t̵r̵a̴ ̵a̵r̵e̷ ̸u̶n̴d̶e̴r̷ ̷̵m̴y̷̴ ̶p̸r̷o̸t̵e̷c̷t̵i̵o̷n̴.̸ ̷I̴f̵ ̷y̴o̴u̵ ̴h̵a̴r̷m̴ ̴e̶i̶t̵h̸e̵r̶ ̴o̸f̷ ̸t̶h̶e̵m̸,̸ ̵y̵o̵u̵ ̶w̵i̸l̵l̶ ̵i̵n̷c̸u̶r̸ ̶t̵h̷e̶ ̶w̷r̴a̵t̵h̷ ̷o̶f̴ ̵̸C̴h̴a̷o̷s̶.̶̷ ̷S̷o̴ ̷̵s̸t̷a̷y̶ ̸a̶w̶a̵y̵ ̶f̷r̵o̵m̶ ̶t̶h̸e̴m̴.̶̸"̷
The sketchy man freezes up, his skin white as paper, his eyes wide, his face frozen in an expression of sheer terror.
Then Chaos chuckles, shifting to jester form, the cheerfulness and flamboyance returning.
“Smells like you just soiled yourself, boyo.”
The sketchy man lets out a foal-esque squeak, so Chaos shrugs.
“But you get the point, yeah? Leave those two alone, or we’ll meet again, and next time, you won’t get off easy. Hasta la vista!”
The sketchy man vanishes.
Relax, Chaos just sent the idiot home.
Elsewhere in America, a burly man stalks through the streets, following the signature scent of fluffies, a gun hidden in his jacket’s inside pocket.
When the burly man passes a milk float, he does a double take, reading the words on the side of the vehicle.
𝑹𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒂𝒌
𝑯𝒚𝒈𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒄 𝑫𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒚𝒎𝒂𝒏
𝑬𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅
The burly man scratches his head.
“Established when?”
There’s an ordinary-looking milkman at the wheel of the milk float, waving at the burly man and addressing him in a cheerful, flamboyant voice.
“Yoohoo! You look like you need a lift, boyo. Hop in.”
The burly man gratefully climbs in, sitting in the passenger seat and putting his seatbelt on.
“Thanks, my feet were getting sore. It’s not far, just a couple of streets.”
The milkman chuckles as he drives his truck away.
“Oh, we’re going a bit further than that.”
“What?”
When the milk float passes a department store, the burly man looks at the vehicle’s reflection in the big, shiny window and gasps.
“Aw shit, you’re–”
Chaos nods.
“Mmm-hmm. Did you really think I didn’t know what you were up to? I don’t like that kind of thing, boyo.”
When the burly man tries to take his seatbelt off, he quickly discovers that it won’t let him go.
Then he tries to pull his gun out from his jacket, but only pulls out a bag of Jellenheimers, the gummy candies that ostensibly look like fluffies.
He gives Chaos a pleading look.
“Let me out of here!”
Sadly, the burly man rolled a 1 on his Charisma (Persuasion) check, and Chaos shakes his head, a solemn look on his face.
“Mmm, no. Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to get in cars with strangers? I didn’t make you get in, y’know.”
“Where… where are you taking me?”
“You’re asking the wrong question.”
“So what’s the right question?”
Chaos chuckles ominously.
“You’ll see. I’ve gotta go do my rounds, and while I do that, we’re gonna have a little chat about your choice of pastime.”
“Your… rounds?”
“The truck isn’t just for show, boyo! Here, have a free sample of my wares.”
splat
The burly man’s head is suddenly splattered with a greasy yellowish substance.
As he tastes it, he grimaces at the unfamiliar flavor.
“Eurgh! What is this?!?”
Chaos beams at him.
“Yak butter! It’s a bit rancid, but some people like it that way. I get the milk from a herd of yaks that lived in Tibet, around five thousand years ago. You just can’t find the good stuff these days.”
“Wait, hold on, did you say–”
“Yes, you heard me correctly. That’s why my deliveries are never late. 7 AM, on the dot, no matter where or when my customers live.”
“So… does this thing have a flux capacitor?”
Chaos laughs.
“I don’t need something silly like that to travel through time. I’m outside of time and space. But I’m afraid you’re just out of time. Speaking of time… next stop: London, November 12th, 1955 AD!”
Like that, the milk float is gone.
Meanwhile, in Georgia, the men who were sent packing earlier run for their lives, their truck chasing after them.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”
HONK HONK
Back on Chaos’ vacation home, Chaos reclines in his deckchair, sighing contently.
“So far, it’s a pretty successful day.”
He turns to the pool, seeing Loki and Eris happily swimming, both of them wearing fluffy-sized, rainbow-colored water wings.
Now, you might be aware that fluffies and water don’t mix very well, but Chaos is Chaos, and he created this vacation home with his fluffies in mind. Fluffies won’t drown here unless Chaos allows it, and Chaos won’t allow it.
So calm down.
Chaos gets up, walking over to the pool.
“How’s the water, darlings? Not too cold? Or too warm?”
Loki, treading water, smiles at his daddeh, who isn’t always a daddeh.
“Nu, daddeh. Am juuuus wite.”
Eris giggles.
“Wike Gow-dee-wocks powwidge.”
Chaos chuckles.
“Speaking of Goldilocks, I should invite François here some time. But there’s no rush. Room for one more, my dears?”
Loki and Eris nod, and suddenly, there’s a diving board next to the pool, and Chaos is standing atop it.
“Here goes! Geronimo!”
SPROING
Chaos cannonballs into the pool.
SPLASH
Back on Earth, in a poorly lit basement, a fat man in a stained wife beater dumps a stallion and a mare into a pen.
“Get to fucking.”
The stallion looks at the mare, who is the older of the two, and then turns back to the fat man, staring at him incredulously.
“Dat am fwuffy mummah, mistah.”
The mare nods, nauseated at the prospect.
“We twy-ed tu teww yu dat da whowe way hewe.”
The fat man scoffs at them.
“Does it look like I give a shit? Just shut up and
make some damn babies, already. I’m selling 'em off the minute they’re off the milk, and trust me, them being inbred won’t be a problem for long.”
He walks over to a workbench, grabbing an electric drill.
“So fuck her, or I’m taking an eye. You can still knock that bitch up with one, motherfucker.”
A cheerful, flamboyant voice chuckles from a dark corner.
“Oh, I see what you did there! How about I set the mood, boyo? Light some candles, put on some Marvin Gaye…”
Chaos strides out of the darkness, in jester form.
“But of course, if anyone in here is getting screwed, it’s you.”
The fat man glares at his sudden guest.
“How the fuck did you get in my house?”
Chaos shrugs.
“The same way I go anywhere else.”
Then he turns to the fluffies.
“And the same way I’ll be sending these two tykes home.”
“Hold on, I grabbed 'em fair and–”
Suddenly, the fluffies both vanish.
“–square did they go?”
“Back where you found them, boyo. If I were you, I’d stay out of those woods from now on.”
The fat man groans in annoyance.
“Okay, are you a wizard?”
Chaos enthusiastically shakes his head.
“Nope! I’m Chaos. Yes, that Chaos. So I’m not bound by that whole Wizard’s Code. Which is awfully unfortunate for you! Now… I think I said something about you getting screwed?”
He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a monstrous dildo, bigger than a grown man’s arm.
Naturally, the dildo is rainbow-colored.
Chaos hefts it up with both hands.
“Bend over, boyo! I’m goin’ in dry!”
The fat man faints, his head landing on a pillow that wasn’t there five seconds ago.
WHUMP
You can probably guess what colors the pillow is.
Chaos laughs, putting the giant dildo back in his pocket.
“Ah, never fails.”
He walks over to the fat man, kneeling down and poking his face.
The fat man quickly wakes up.
“Wha-- please don’t shove that thing up my ass!”
“I won’t, if you promise me that you’ll leave fluffies alone from now on.”
“IpromiseIpromiseIpromise!”
“Good. Welp, I’ll get outta your hair now. There isn’t a lot of it, anyway.”
Chaos gets back up, walking to the stairs leading out of the basement.
Before he leaves, he turns back to the fat man.
“Oh, by the way.”
The fat man gets back up too.
“What?”
Chaos pulls another rainbow dildo out of his pocket, this one a normal-sized one.
He casually tosses it, and it floats up to waist height, pointed directly at the fat man’s sizeable rear end.
“This is what. Just a bit of insurance, to make sure you don’t break your promise. If you do, it’ll grow to giant size, and then it’s going right up your ass, even if you’re wearing Kevlar boxers.”
The fat man warily looks at the floating dildo, and as he walks around the room, it follows him, remaining pointed at his rear end the entire time.
“Is… is it gonna follow me around everywhere I go?”
Chaos nods happily.
“Yup!”
“But I can’t go around town with that floating behind me!”
“Well, then good news! You and I are the only ones who can see it. It’s like the sword of Damocles, but cruder. Could have used an actual sword, but I felt like working blue. So have fun with that, boyo! Ta-ta for now!”
Chaos makes his exit, leaving the fat man and the phallic insurance policy behind.
The fat man throws his hands up.
“Who the hell is Dammo-cleese?!?”
In Georgia, the drunken men from earlier hide behind a large boulder, listening carefully.
“I can’t hear it anymore. Think it ran out of gas?”
“Probably. Dangit, and I had just filled the tank, too.”
“So now what?”
One of the men grins.
“Well, now that our truck isn’t chasing us, which I never thought I would actually say, I think we should go finish what we started.”
He points at the drunkest of the group, still covered in makeup.
“But first, we take a detour so Billy Bob can get himself cleaned up. You look like a queer, man.”
Billy Bob shrugs.
“Say what you will, but this eyeshadow really makes my eyes pop.”
“…Don’t say faggoty shit like that, Billy Bob. Okay, let’s go kill those shitrats.”
The men all step out from behind the boulder.
And immediately see the pickup truck, its engine dutifully idling, headlights still blaring.
HONK HONK
As the men flee in terror, the truck races after them again.
VROOM