“Good one, Aqua Dude!”
“Where’s Chicken Guy today!?” he shouted in return, but Chesteria had already run out of earshot. So fast. Cheetah fast, of course, since she was 1/2.
Watch out for that fountain, Speedy Gonzales! But she was nimble as well as fast. Best of both worlds.
The cows wouldn’t recognize her if she stood still. Always a blur to them.
Then something suddenly made her STOP. A running plane at the airport on the west side of town — new one. Circle within circle design on the wings. It somehow rang a bell. Like a cow.
“Help!” shouted the occupant, a lone flyer. But now: no fly. He had landed in Regaltown and he wasn’t gay, so the scripts didn’t work here. “Help!” he repeated, unable to even separate himself from the cockpit.
Keith B. 1/2 of the non-gay team called The Basterds. He suddenly found himself 20 years younger. Maybe 40 after the glasses also disappeared. Grammy’s vortex powers were still in effect for the area, eating up the decades in pairs.