Ey up lad. You look a bit glum?
The Bear-Man looked at me inquisitively as if I had little nubby horns sticking out of my head.
Who me? Nah, I'm fucking magic.
I lied with debonair abandon.
I was not fucking magic. I was fucking rough. I had been to the pub for a leaving do for one of my colleagues last night and it had all gotten a bit out of hand.
As such, I was literally like one of the living dead today.
I was amazed I had even managed to find the beer shop.
You don't look fuckin magic. You look like a badger's arse.
Said the Bear-Man with a frown.
I opened my mouth so as not to impede the witty retort that was no doubt about to leap out but nothing came, leaving me gaping like a fish that had gotten jammed up a mermaid's arse.
Look at that face...
The Bear-Man chortled, rubbing his belly as if I were a hot curry just served up to him.
I know what you need, oh yes I do.
I swayed slightly. I think at this point I normally fretted that the Bear-Man would start clubbing me with his pork truncheon. Oh well, I didn't have the strength to fight him off. I closed my eyes and hoped it would be quick.
Erectile Dysfunction! That's what you need!
The Bear-Man crowed excitedly.
I opened my eyes and gazed at him as if he had truly and utterly gone bonkers mental.
I beg your pardon?
I said stiffly.
Erectile Dysfunction, I'm telling you. That would sort you right out.
I shook my head. How the fuck would being cursed with a limp penis help me out? I couldn't think of anything that would help me less.
I don't think it's something that you can pass on.
I said primly, mentally gathering up my skirts and preparing to flounce out of the shop.
Ah beg to differ.
The Bear-Man grinned and rubbed his hands together as if rolling out clay into a soft penis shape.
What the fuck was going on. Was he going to curse me? Maybe I had been watching to much Witcher. Maybe I was still drunk from the night before?
I glanced nervously at the door. It wasn't so far. Maybe I should make a run for it before I was cursed with flaccid penisery?
Shit, the Good Lady would go nuts if I came into the bedroom swinging my lad about like an old wet skipping rope.
I tensed my legs, ready to run.
And ere you have it! Reptile Dysfunction. It's got chillies in it. I told you, it would sort you right out.
The Bear-Man passed over a gaudily painted can of beer.
I turned it over in my hands. Reptile Dysfunction. Ha, tres amusing. I felt vaguely relieved that I wouldn't have to return home with a beanbag for a penis as it was actually a beer not a curse that was being thrown my way.
Aye go on. I'll take it.