Dr. Krumbunculus regarded the incredibly acrobatic witch, whom had just rejected his offer for a date in that most polite of ways—that is, actually agreeing to go, as long as they went, well, let’s let her say it.

“As a friend. I don’t wanna date you or anything. No offense, I mean, you’re not ugly, dearie, you’re certainly not ugly. But you’re a little young for me.”

“A-a-a little w-w-whatnow?”

“You know, young? You’ve got, like, no wrinkles on your face. Perfect skin. So perfect it actually makes me jealous, if we’re being honest. Sure, some women are into that. Some men are too. It’s not an unappealing look, don’t get the wrong idea. I’m just, well, it’s just I’m only into older men.”

“O-o-older?”

“Yea, older. I mean, shit, if I’m being honest, I like really older men. Like, crazy old. Like, their face is just a big pile of wrinkles. Honestly, if a man’s neck doesn’t look similar to a turkey’s, I won’t even consider getting with him.

“Sure, maybe if you’d at least already gone grey, I’d consider fooling around with you. But I just find younger men so uninteresting. Now, give me some shriveled old prune, some geriatric old guy with a long, white beard and a shiny bald head…cloudy, bloodshot eyes…teeth like rotting corn…barely able to move without groaning…more arthiritis than bones…” she sighed in imagined adoration, “Give me a man like that and I will absolutely devour him. Over and over and over again.”

“O-o-o-oh…” Dr. Krumbunculus was tearing up.

“Hey! Hey, it’s okay. Plenty of people like young guys! They do! You’re just not for me, that’s all!”

“O-o-okay…th-thanks…” he ran off into the sea of naked ladies, disgusted by how easy it was for his horrible, youthful body to run, disgusted by how attracted they all seemed to be to him, when this wonderful woman he’d wanted only wanted a man like whom he used to be. And that’s when Dr. Krumbunculus realized that nothing had changed. This day was pure hen on Gurth.

“Please, oh cock, please tell me you have some clothes for me,” Dr. Krumbunculus heaved as he approached the witch who’d guided him inside.

“Oh, yes, dearie. Right here,” she produced in her arms a long robe with crescent moons and stars all over it.

“Thank cock,” Krumbunculus opened two lockers to cover himself, removed his clothes and quickly slipped into the robe. Even getting dressed was easier—then again, if he’d been his normal, older self, he’d of been able to cast a spell to put the robe on and take his clothes off just by wiggling his eyebrow the right way. Oh, those were the days. What a curse, to be trapped in youth looking back on your old age in nostalgia.

“Why do you look sad, mister?” a nearby naked lady questioned Dr. Krumbunculus.

“Huh? Oh, nothing…” He sighed. He found it incredibly taxing to not look at her nipples, which were rock hard. Normally, he could’ve just cast a spell that would prevent such an issue, but in his current state he could hardly cast a spell other than the beloved ‘summon alcohol,’ coincidentally one of the first spells he’d learned. “Look, erm, whoever you are,” Krumbunculus turned to look at his witch guide, who was aparently putting some sort of oil on her whip, “Do you remember how you said common folk usually don’t come around here? On account of not wanting to be cursed?”

“Oh yes. Sometimes we even get people running away from us in the streets simply due to the fact that they don’t want to get cursed.”

“Well. Say someone was cursed. Me, for instance. Say that I was cursed by a witch, some sort of man witch who’d been sitting around town with his cauldron out.”

“Okay.”

“So, if that were the case, if I had been cursed by this awful man witch, what exactly would need to be done to un-curse me?”

“Well,” she cleared her throat as a very attractive naked lady walked by and pulled all of Krumbunculus’ attention for but a brief moment, “The first thing you could try is, of course, to beg that witch for forgiveness. However, if he really did go out of his way and curse you, any semblance of an apology is probably not going to measure up. Just being honest, there.”

Dr. Krumbunculus, remembering how his conversation with the makle witch had gone, nodded in slow dejection.

“However, there is another way to rid yourself of a witch’s curse. Which is hamn hood news for a lot of folks, I will say.

“If you really were cursed, you’d have to go to the wastelands of middle-rich Caldonia, where they’ve got prisoners twerking the scrap yards, and find a large, festering bog. Now, if you fall in this bog, you will surely die. But if you find the ferryman, the ferryman of the bog, he will guide you in his little raft across the slimy cesspool of acid and to a small island, where you will find a deep, dark pit. You must go down, down, down, to the deep, dark bottom of that deep, dark pit, and there you will find the creature that can help you.”

“Um. Can you say that again?” Dr. Krumbunculus murmured, doing his best to write everything down on his left arm with a fountain pen.

“Well, wait a second! Are you saying you’re actually cursed?”

“Oh, yes, yes, terribly so. Would you believe I’m over a hundred years old?”

The witch did a double take, “Now that’s a hen of a curse you’ve got on you! You know, some people would be thrilled to be made so young again.”

“Well, some people aren’t me. I quite miss my advanced age, my geriatric years as they are sometimes called, especially considering my wizard powers are now greatly diminished. And, would you believe it, that absolute godhead of a male witch cooked one of my spellbooks in his stupid cauldron. So now I’m out some spells and I’m far too young to properly cast magic! It’s just insulting!”

“You’ve got a very negative mindset, mister wizard,” the witch frowned, “You know, I think there’s a book I can recommend to you. Come, follow me to the witches’ library.”

“Are there naked witches there, too?”

“Usually? No.”

And so it was that they left the steamy changing room and walked down a corridor that lead to a hallway that, through a side door, lead them to some descending stairs and then some rising stairs and then another hallway and another corridor which was in Caldonia slightly different than a hallway it begs to be said and then there they were standing in the dimly lit library, surrounded by books. It was a beautiful sight—every wall that was not completely covere by a bookshelf had instead an ornate stained glass window depciting some sort of witchy activity, such as sacrificing animals or riding broomsticks or knitting.

“Alright, where was it again?” the witch asked herself, pulling out her wand and waving it around in the air. A book suddenly flew through the air and landed in her hand. “Here you go. I seriously urge you to check this out. It’ll change your life.”

Dr. Krumbunculus took the book and inspected it. The title read: THOU SHALT ALWAYS LOOKETH UPON THE BRIGHTER SIDE: SEEING THE BEAUTY IN LIFE’S LITTLE CATASTROPHES. He felt bile rise in his throat.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Dr. Krumbunculus set the condescending book down on a nearby shelf, “Have you considered that I have a negative mindset because I’ve been having a rough day?”

“Well,” the witch cleared her throat, “Have you considered you’ve been having a rough day because you have a negative mindset?”

Dr. Krumbunculus sighed. Any sort of arousal he’d felt in this place had been replaced with distemper and frustration.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I think it’s high time I went on my way.”

With that, Dr. Krumbunculus weaved through the hallways and corridors, completely ignoring any and all scantily clad witches as he fled the guild hall.