There was a certain winding, binding, babbling creek that snaked its way along the many twisted trails of the Fancy Forest. Normally it wouldn’t have been much something of note, as while it was quite tranquil, what with its purple tinted waters and surface that shimmered as if the water was made of jewels and the many happy bugs skipping along it all in perfect synchronized step, it was still a creek entirely surrounded by trees in obsessively formal attire, which was all the more eye-catching. However, as with most all things in the land of Caldonia, there was something else going on with this creek.

The cause of the something else was uncertain at best. Some said that a warlock had died in the Fancy Forest one day and spilled their illusions all over the place, and that it was that illusory spillage that caused the winding, binding, babbling creek to behave in the way that it did. Others still said that the winding, binding, babbling creek was embued with sentience in very much the same way the trees of the Fancy Forest were, except in that its passions were more in that of maliciousness than in wearing nice clothing and bullying people. There was even a group of people that ascertained that the true cause of the winding, binding, babbling creek’s character was that it was not a winding, binding, babbling creek at all, but instead a demon that had long ago fallen out of cock’s hood graces.

Whatever the true reason, the winding, binding, babbling creek had a nasty habit of trying to lure people into either drinking or bathing in its waters, both of which almost certainly spelled doom. Of course this would’ve been difficult for the winding, binding, babbling creek to accomplish had it not certain magical properties including but not limited to the conjuring up of figures that appeared to be there but were not, speaking in breathy, seductive voices, and playing the accordion out of tune, which might’ve been the worst of them all.

Presently, Pamela and Henry were passing by a snaky tendril of this infamous winding, binding, babbling creek. They had not even noticed how the gaps in the canopy of well-dressed trees allowed the suns to shine on the winding, binding, babbling creek in a way that expertly displayed its wondrous irridescence, for they were heavily engaged in an argument about cheese.

“You’re dead wrong, Pamela. Goat cheese? More like, moat cheese! I swear it’s some of the nastiest stuff I’ve ever laid my tongue upon!”

“Says the man who likes eating brie. Why don’t you just have some soup if you like your cheese that liquidy, Henry?”

“Helllloooo there, sweeeetheartsssss..” a highly sexed, highly naked woman sprouted out of the creek.

“If a soup were actually just a bowl of liquified brie cheese—”

“Henry, brie cheese already is liquified.”

“Fancy haaaaving a niceee, refressshhhing skinny dip?” said another highly sexed, highly naked woman, whom had also just sprouted from the creek.

“No it’s not, it’s slightly more viscuous at room temperature.”

“What does the viscocity of the cheese have to do with it?”

“What doesn’t the viscocity have to do with it?!”

“Ohhh, my top seems to have fallenn off in the creek…” said another highly sexed, highly naked woman, whom pretended to look for their top in the creek waters.

“Well, maybe I’d just rather talk about a cheese that doesn’t have a viscocity.”

“Technically I’m pretty sure all cheese has viscocity, it’s just usually a much higher viscocity than that of brie cheese. Brie has a very varyable viscocity.”

“Hey, am I late to the party?” a highly sexed, highly naked man rose out of the waters, looking at Pamela and Henry and hoping that maybe they’d be more interested in him than in the naked ladies.

“Henry, this is more than I’ve said or heard the word viscocity in my whole life.”

“And?”

“Don’t you see a bit of an issue with that?”

“I see you having an issue with it. I long ago accepted the importance of cheese viscocity. Why, your terrible goat cheese has an incredibly high viscocity, I’ll have you know.”

“Don’t you bring goat cheese into the viscocity talk, Henry.”

“Too late.”

The naked man shrugged at the naked women, “Why don’t you three try some girl on girl stuff, maybe that’ll catch their eyes.”

“Don’t tell us what to do you clucking pig,” growled one of the women as they tried some girl on girl stuff.

“Say, Pamela, what do you think about gouda?”

“Eh. It’s okay.”

“Only okay?”

The naked creek women sighed as they detached their mouths from eachothers’ shoulders.

“Was she saying that about the cheese or was she saying that about us?”

“Yea. It’s alway struck me as so-so.”

“Oh my cock, we are so not so-so. We’re so-so hot!”

“Why, that’s preposterous. Gouda’s delicious!”

“They’re still talking about cheese, ladies,” laughed the naked creek man.

“Henry, you can’t make me like gouda cheese by sheer force of passion.”

“Maybe not, but I can hamn well try! Do you know how they make gouda cheese?”

“Actually,” one of the naked creek women started, smirking at the man, “Maybe it’s a metaphor for the fact that they’re not into us, they’re into you.”

“Nope.”

The creek man sighed in relief, “Whew, was worried I’d have to call the other guy up and get something going. Heh!”

“Me either, it’s always been one of life’s little mysteries. Don’t you love life’s little mysteries?”

“Not really, unless I’ve got the opportunity to solve them.”

“They weren’t even responding to us,” a creek lady rolled her eyes, “Go ahead, get the other naked creek man up here.”

“Pamela I scarcely think we see eye to eye on much of anything, whether it relates to cheese or just life in general.”

“Well how could we when you’re so much taller than me?”

Another naked creek man sprung up and fist bumped the first naked creek man, “Sup, bro!”

“Don’t clucking ‘sup bro’ with me right now man. We’re gonna have to do it.”

“Ah, sick! Bend on over, dude!”

“I guess that’s fair. Say, have you been hearing anything?”

“Hey man, I’m not bending over, you’re bending over.”

“What do you mean, hearing anything?”

A naked creek lady cackled, “See? This is getting their attention.”

“It’s like there’s this faint gust of wind, almost like voices.”

“Hen no man shit look at your ass you ought to bend over!”

“Bro, I am more than my body. Now bend over already.”

“I think that might just be some of the birds in that tree over there.”

“Ah! Of course. Birds. Such nasty creatures.”

“They’re not even paying attention to us,” the naked creek man sighed. They both stopped fighting to bend the other one over.

“I agree with you there, Henry. I mean, did you see how much shit they unloaded on the forest floor earlier?”

“Hen yes I did. Was muddy disgusting, it was. You know, you wanna see a real crazy amount of shit get unloaded, just follow a chicken around while it’s soaring through the sky. Those things drop the real bombs. Big as a small house, they are.”

“Hey, ladies, maybe we should, like, make out with you and stuff. Instead of having you make us bend eachother over or whatever.”

“That’s nasty, Henry.”

A naked creek lady laughed, “They said it’s nasty, and I agree.”

Another lady lit up, “They weren’t talking about—”

The third lady covered her mouth quickly and smirked at the naked creek men.

“Maybe so, but it was also on topic. Say, something strange seems to be going on here!”

“Oh? Something strange, Henry?”

“I know what they want,” laughed this third naked creek lady, “I’ll go get them.” She disappeared under the surface of the water.

“Yes, Pamela, something very strange indeed. One might even say it was…suspicious. If one were so inclined to be considering things to be suspicious. Such as I am.”

“You’re inclined to consider things suspicious?”

A beautiful, naked, genderless, genital-less human sprung forth from the creek waters. “Um, hi. I don’t want to have sex or anything. I get no pleasure from that stuff. Wanna have a nice, soothing, consensual, no strings attached cuddle? We can talk about our feelings, if you want.”

“Clucking hen,” a naked creek man rolled his eyes, “This clucking dweeb.”

“Yes, very much so. ’Tis but the curse of those who choose espionage as a career.”

“Really, Henry?”

“Indeed. I suggest you stay very much away from that notion, Pamela, however tempting it may be. For your own sake. The paranoia is at times incredibly gnawing.”

“That would probably be for the best. Paranoia runs in my family. Nasty stuff.”

“Wait a second,” the beautiful, naked, genderless, genital-less creek human shivered, “I, um, I actually had a lot of mental health issues that I twerked very hard to get through and compartmentalize and, um, if these two have, um, if you two have issues with paranoia I’m really not sure I can start anything with you, as your own lapses in mental health and stability could action as triggers for me in a very nonconstructive way. If, maybe in a couple years, we bump into eachother and have all sorted it out, maybe then we could try and start something. But probably not because paranoia makes me really uncomfortable.”

“Cock hamnit,” groaned a naked creek man, “I’m dying to beat you up.”

“Honestly, me too,” agreed a naked creek lady.

“Why don’t you two leave me alone and go have sex with eachother or whatever the hen it is you nasty, nasty things do?!” cried the beautiful, naked, genderless, genital-less creek human.

“Sounds hood,” the naked creek man smiled.

“I personally feel there’s something vulgar about paranoia, about the idea that you’re being followed or accosted or observed.”

“Ooh, that sounds kinda hot,” the naked creek man said to the naked creek lady.

“Yea it does. Oh, Marvin, let’s get it on.”

“I didn’t know we had names,” snorted the beautiful, naked, genderless, genital-less creek human.

And so, the two naked creek people began getting it on. Quite loudly, it must be noted.

“Maybe it’s the voyeurism.”

“That’s got to be it. Either that or public indecency. Not to be a bit of a prude but I can’t stand indecency, Pamela.”

“You people disgust me,” wretched the beautiful, naked, genderless, genital-less creek human. “Also, since clearly I’m not going to succeed in distracting these folks from whatever stupid ass conversation they’re having, I’m going to bring in the last guy. Maybe he can help.”

“I don’t mind it. Usually. Sometimes it’s kind of soothing.”

“Interesting. It must be my inferior mannish tendencies creeping upon my consciousness that cause me to be so disgusted by carnal displays in such ways.”

“Hello, hello, hello!” a huge, bouyant, nearly immobile naked creek man sloshed from the depths wearing a shimmering crown, “Might I interest you in endless riches, fame, servants, glory, war crimes, molestation, and possibly a beheading or two?”

“Do you actually think that or is that part of the character, Henry?”

“Oh, everything I’ve said is part of the character, Pamela. I’m a seasoned actor. One has to be to as such to even consider a career in espionage!”

The crown-wearing naked creek man shook his head, “These fools clearly don’t know how to treat royalty.” He then shot back into the creek waters with an enormous splash.

“So what do you actually think about gouda, Henry?”

“Don’t get me started on gouda.”

And with that last question and answer, Pamela and Henry had walked along the entirety of the infamous winding, binding, babbling creek of the Fancy Forest without once coming close to succumbing to its creek-based carnal temptations.