XI: A Case of the Gypsies

The shifty and eccentric Johnny Go and his beautiful and psychotic sidekick Dixie Doublestacks cruised through the galaxy in their stolen, late model Starhawk utility vehicle. They were tired, but they seemed relieved and relaxed. Dixie wore a pair of culottes and a tattered varsity letterman jacket. Johnny had on Bermuda shorts and an old hoodie that had “Blessed and Highly Favored” airbrushed on the front. They were eating popcorn and drinking some kind of blue liquor out of a jug with a handle. 
“Ok, but what if you opened it up a few times?” Johnny asked. “You know, once you had it in there?” 
“Yeah, I guess that would work,” Dixie said. She took a long pull from the jug. “I’m glad we brought the love jug.” She patted the jug appreciatively. 
“Everything tastes better from a jug,” Johnny said, holding out his arm. Dixie passed him the jug and he drank. 
“You know what makes space better than Earth?” Johnny asked. 
“Zero gravity toilets?” 
“Well yeah, that. But I was gonna say it’s how all the spaceships have good autopilot.”
“Oh yeah. Totally.” 
“Like, if we were on Earth, I wouldn’t have to use my feet to drive the car, sure. But I’d still have to steer and pay attention and shit. Here, I just sit back and the ship does its thing.” 
“It’s true. God, everything’s so fucking hard on Earth, isn’t it?” 
“Totally.” 
“Let’s not go back there.” 
“Deal.” They were quiet for a while, munching, drinking, and getting progressively drunker. It was indeed a very good thing that they didn’t have to pilot the ship themselves. 

***

Dixie and Johnny had both nodded off and were sleeping peacefully when something woke them. They looked at one another, confused. Dixie reached for the popcorn. 
“I was having a really weird dream,” she said. 
“Yeah?” 
“Yeah. It was Christmas and I was robbing one of those charity bell ringers outside of a grocery store. He tried to pull the bucket away from me, and I grabbed his bell and shoved it through his eye socket.” 
“Damn. Did you get the money?” 
“I don’t know. That’s when I woke up.” 
“Well, I was just dreaming about holding a fake séance and bilking mourners out of their money,” Johnny said. 
“That’s actually a great idea,” Dixie replied. 
“Right? Maybe we should try that sometime. You just go in ahead of time and set up a bunch of weird shit, like a spooky sounds record and bells and blinking lights and stuff. Weird.” 
“What?” 
“I had bells in my dream, too.” 
“What do you think it means?” Dixie asked. 
“I’unno,” said Johnny. “Are our clothes haunted again?” 
“Oh, maybe.” Dixie looked at her jacket for a moment, but then shrugged. They both went back to eating popcorn and sipping from the love jug. Then they heard it. A faint jingling sound made its way to their ears. Dixie turned to Johnny. 
“Are we still asleep?” she asked. 
“I didn’t think so,” Johnny said. “And why would we keep dreaming about bells, anyway?” 
“I don’t know.” They heard it again. 
“Ok I’m definitely awake.”
“Yeah, I think I am, too. Did we leave a radio on, maybe?” She leaned forward and fiddled with the knobs on the dashboard. “Nope, this is off.” 

Jingle jingle jingle

“What the fuck.” 
“Maybe we’re losing our minds?” 
“Yeah, but like, why now?” 
“True.” 

Jiiiiiiiiingle 

“This is going to make me actually lose my mind,” Dixie said. “Do you think it’s the ship? Should we pull over?” 
“Yeah, maybe we can find a service planet and have someone take a look,” Johnny said. He began to fiddle with the navigation, searching for the nearest place to land. Once he programmed that in, the ship began to correct its course. It took a gentle turn, and the jingling sound became louder for a moment, then faded again. 
“How long until we get there?” Dixie asked. 
“Half hour,” said Johnny. 
“I guess I gotta put shoes on,” she said. She leaned down and picked a pair of tall, lace up wrestling shoes off the floor. As she did this, the ship took another gentle curve. Dixie glanced up into one of the sideview mirrors and gasped. 
“Oh shit, Johnny!” 
“What?” 
“We have gypsies!” 

***

Peering out the rear portal window, Dixie and Johnny stared at a long train of colorful gypsy caravans which was tied to the back of their ship. There were four or five wagons for living in, and another for housing livestock, plus one that appeared to be for supplies. On the porch of the caravan closest to the ship, a group of gypsies, dressed in colorful rags, was having an impromptu concert, hence the jingling sounds, which came from a tambourine. Johnny sighed. 
“I thought we got rid of them?” he asked. “How did they find us?” 
“And how did they get themselves hooked up to our ship without us knowing?” 
“Maybe when we stopped at that roadhouse? We did get pretty drunk.” 
“This is killing our fuel efficiency,” Dixie muttered. 
“Well look, we’re almost at the service planet. We’ll pull in and kick them out.” 
“Hopefully that works.”
“Why wouldn’t it?” 
“Well, why are they here in the first place? We probably got cursed by that last clan we saw.” 
“You think? I mean, we paid them before we left. We don’t owe them anything.” 
“Johnny, this is gypsies we’re talking about. Space gypsies. The rules don’t exactly apply.” Dixie pounded on the glass of the rear portal window. “Hey! You trashy gypsies! Fuck off!” They couldn’t hear her over the roar of space wind, and the sounds of their own merriment. 

***

Later, Dixie and Johnny stood in the parking area of a service planet, trying to get the attention of the dancing gypsies. The gypsies, however, were in full celebration mode and didn’t seem to notice them. Finally, Johnny picked up a rock and hurled it at one of them. The man who had been dancing and waving a tambourine stopped and looked at him. 
“Oh!” he cried. “Heyllo friends!” 
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Dixie yelled. “You can’t hang onto us like this!” 
“Friends,” the man said, climbing down the steps from his wagon’s little porch. “We are connected. We are familia now. I am Vano!” He held out his hand. Dixie stared at it in disgust. Johnny gave a little wave. 
“Uh, Vano…” he said, “Why are you following us?” 
“As I tell you, we are familia now.” 
“No we aren’t, you trash guzzling anal caulk gun!” Dixie shouted. Johnny placed a calming hand on her shoulder. 
“What my sidekick means is, how are we family now? We don’t know you. And even if we were family, we certainly wouldn’t agree to haul your wagons around the galaxy at the expense of our dignity and gas mileage.” 
“Also we hate family,” Dixie spat. 
“Why, you made a business deal with our clan, our vitsa, of course,” Vano said. 
“No, that was with some other gypsies. And we paid them,” Johnny said. 
“Yeah, we don’t owe them shit!” Dixie added. 
“Ah, but your connection with them cannot be severed by mere financial payment,” Vano said. He started to tap his tambourine against his thigh. “And that clan has sold its magic connection with you to us. So now we are familia!” He began to dance in place, whacking himself with the tambourine. The musicians on the porch played their guitars and fiddles again, and a small boy tapped on some kind of primitive drum. 
“Wait a minute!” Johnny shouted over the din. The group quieted slightly. “So we can’t pay off a gypsy clan, but you can pay them off?” 
“Arva!” he shouted. “You are now part of our vitsa!” The band played again at full volume. Gypsies emerged from the other wagons and they all began to dance raucously in the parking area. Dixie and Johnny stepped back toward their ship. 
“What the hell are we gonna do?” Johnny asked. 
“Maybe we can just cut the rope and take off real fast? And they won’t notice?” 
“Yeah, ok. Let’s try it.” 
“They’re pretty distracted already, but maybe one of us should pretend we’re interested in the dancing?” 
“Good call. I’ll do that,” Johnny said. 
“Oh, thank god. I don’t want to touch any of them. Once was enough.” 
“So once they’re really focused on dancing with me, you cut the rope. Then give me some kind of signal and I’ll slip away. You’ll have to leave the back hatch to the ship open so we can take off as soon as I’m in there.” 
“Ok, what if I tip over that trash barrel right before I get into the ship?” Dixie asked. 
“That works.” Dixie reached into the back waistband of her culottes and pulled out a pearl handled switchblade. They were about to part ways when a service planet employee stormed over to them. 
“Hey!” he yelled, “You people can’t camp here! This is a respectable business and we’re not here to cater to vagrants!” 
“Yeah, man,” Johnny said. “You don’t have to tell me.” 
“Get your ship, and your trash wagons out of here!” 
“Oh no,” Dixie said, “they’re not with us.” 
“Yeah, they’re kinda just… following us?” Johnny said. 
“Look buddy,” the employee said, “I don’t really give a shit how they got here, or why, but they’re hanging out with you, and so you gotta get ‘em outta here before we call the space force.” 

***

Strangely enough, Dixie and Johnny’s plan went off without a hitch, and a few minutes later they were lifting off from the service planet. When they had cleared the small planet’s atmosphere and ensured that the ship’s autopilot was functioning, Johnny jumped up from his seat and rushed to the rear window. 
“MOTHERFUCKER!” he screamed from the back of the ship. 
“What?” Dixie called back to him. “What happened?” 
“They’re still fucking back there! I thought you cut the rope?” 
“I did,” Dixie said, appearing next to Johnny at the window. She was holding a length of rope. “See?” 
“Well then how the fuck are they still back there?” Johnny cried. He slumped to the floor. 
“I don’t know!” Dixie wailed. “This is some kind of curse again!” She sat down beside Johnny and they both stared blankly at the wall for a while. 
“Ok,” Johnny said, finally. “Apparently once you make a deal with gypsies, paying them doesn’t end it.” 
“Right,” said Dixie, “and then they can use you like currency within their own clans.” 
“So it’s like they own us.” 
“Gross.” 
“And these weirdos are somehow connected to us by something more than rope.” 
“That’s probably the curse.” 
“Yeah. So what do we do?” They stood up again and looked out the window. The party was still going on. 
“How can they just be outside like that when we’re zipping through space?” Dixie asked. 
“Centuries of surviving by being a parasitic pain in the ass to respectable folks, probably,” Johnny said, with a sigh. “Builds up a tolerance. How are we gonna figure this out? We don’t know anything about gypsies. What are we gonna do, look it up?” 
“Hey!” Dixie exclaimed, “I have an idea!” 

***

Chichay Milano was laying on the couch in the living room of the house at Brooklyn Heights Ranch, just outside of Dallas. She wore a pair of lounge pants that would be considered “athleisure” and a plain white tee. She was barefoot and was reading a Superman comic. It was a warm spring day and the windows were open. Outside, the sound of the lawnmower could be heard, giving the front lawn of the property its first cut of the year. 
Across the room, Sweaty Mulligan sat on the other couch wearing his usual military surplus get up, his feet up on the coffee table, and an intense, industrial looking laptop balanced on his thighs. He was typing furiously. Chichay and Sweaty were relaxing and resting up before heading in to manage the peak busy hours of their successful restaurants, Certain Doom and Certain Shroom. While Sweaty still did some online black ops work, and Chichay took the occasional assassination gig, they mostly focused on running the restaurants, and were thrilled to be so close to legitimacy. It helped that they lived, rent-free, on the ranch that Dixie owned, which also boasted a successful livestock farming program keeping it profitable. Neither had ever felt so free or so content. 
Suddenly, a buzzing sound came from a small communication device that was sitting on a bookshelf across the room. It took Chichay a moment to locate the source of the sound, and it took a few moments longer for Sweaty to break concentration from his computer. 
“Weird,” Chichay said, standing up and crossing the room. “Who could be calling us on this?” 
“Is that the external space communicator? The only people who have that contact info are Dixie and Johnny, and their lawyer. You don’t think-” He stopped short and sighed. “It’s probably them. It shouldn’t be, but it probably is. Better answer it.” Chichay picked up the device and switched it on. She went over to the couch and sat down next to Sweaty, placing it on the table in front of them so that they could see the screen, and appear on the camera. The sound connected before the picture tuned in. 
“Hello!” a voice shouted through the speaker. “Chichay! Sweaty! Are you shits there?” 
“Johnny?” Chichay asked. “We’re here. Is your camera on? We can’t see you yet.” 
“Oh, hold on,” Johnny said. A piece of clothing was moved, freeing up the camera and showing Dixie and Johnny seated in the front of a spaceship. They both smiled and waved. Chichay and Sweaty waved back. 
“What’s up, you lovers,” Dixie said. “You guys look great!” 
“Thanks,” Sweaty replied. “You guys look good, too.” 
“Yeah,” Chichay added, “Witness protection treating you well then?” 
“Oh yeah, we’re not in that anymore,” Johnny said. 
“Uh…” 
“Look, we’ll explain it all next time we see you, but suffice to say there is such a thing as too much sex,” Dixie said.
“Which actually brings us to our current problem,” said Johnny. “We need your help.” Sweaty groaned and Chichay looked concerned, but annoyed. 
“You guys,” Chichay said, exasperated, “If this is a problem that happened because you left wit-sec, then I really don’t have a lot of sympathy for you.” 
“Come on, just hear us out!” Johnny said. 
“Yeah, Chich,” Sweaty said, “Let’s just hear them out.” 
“Fine,” she said, giving Sweaty a look. “Ok, what’s the problem and how can we help?” 
“We got cursed by some gypsies and we need to know how to undo it.” There was a stunned silence for a few moments. Chichay and Sweaty stared at the screen. 
“Well, I don’t actually know why this surprises me,” Chichay said, “But here we are. Ok, can I ask how this happened?” 
“If we knew how this happened, we wouldn’t be calling,” Dixie said. “Duh.” 
“No, I mean why were you even anywhere near gypsies. You’re supposed to be on the Anime Planet.” 
“We left the Anime Planet, and we went to the gypsies to try to get rid of all the TSJ we ingested while we were there, because it was making us so horny,” Johnny said. 
“TSJ?” Sweaty asked. 
“Teenage sex juice,” Dixie clarified. 
“Uh-”
“We heard that banging some gypsies is the only way to get rid of something that potent, so we tried it.” 
“And it worked. We’re definitely not horny anymore.” 
“We paid the gypsies and went on our way.” 
“As you do,” Chichay said. Sweaty smiled. 
“That was like a week ago. Everything was great, and we were cruising toward Galbaccus 60 when all of a sudden we heard this jingling sound.” 
“We thought it was the ship, you know, like something was broken.” 
“Right, so we pulled into a service plaza and BAM!” Johnny shouted. “Fucking gypsies!” 
“What do you mean?” Chichay asked. “Where were the gypsies?” 
“They’re attached to our ship!” 
“A whole train of them!” 
“Fucking wagons and livestock and shit.” 
“So they’re, what, tied to your ship?” Sweaty asked. 
“Yeah.” 
“Did you try untying them?” 
“Sweaty. Come on. Give us some credit. Of course we tried that, and it didn’t work. They’re still back there and we don’t know how.” They paused for a moment to let Chichay and Sweaty think over what they’d just said. Finally, Sweaty spoke. 
“So to recap, you banged some space gypsies to get rid of the teenage sex juice you ingested while in witness protection, and then you concluded your business with the gypsies by paying them what you owed, but now they’re back, and they’re psychically tied to your spaceship and you’re towing them around the galaxy? Do I have that right?” 
“Almost,” Dixie said, “These are different gypsies.” 
“Oh for god’s sake,” Chichay muttered. “How did you come across two different clans for space gypsies? What are you guys doing out there?” 
“These gypsies say that they bought the rights to us from the other ones.” 
“Makes sense,” Chicay said. Sweaty started laughing. 
“At least it’s not the Trout Mob?” Sweaty said. 
“Ok,” said Chichay, “So what do you need from us?” 
“Chichay, we can’t be running around the galaxy with a trainload of gross gypsies on our ass,” Dixie said. “Have you ever seen space gypsies? We have our reputations to think about!” 
“We need you to figure out how we can get rid of them,” Johnny said. 
“It has to be a curse, right? Help us figure out how to break it.” Chichay sighed and looked at Sweaty, who nodded. 
“Well look, guys, I don’t know how much help we’re gonna be,” Sweaty said. “We can find stuff about Romany or Irish Gypsies, but if you guys are out by Galbaccus 60, then these are probably Krozak Nebular Gypsies. No one on earth is going to know anything about them.” 
“Oh come on, Sweaty!” Dixie said. “Gypsies are gypsies. And anyway, we don’t have anything else right now, so we might as well try whatever you find.” 
“You guys have tons of weird connections, just ask around and see what you find.” Everyone was quiet for a while. Finally, Chichay spoke. 
“Ok fine. Sweaty and I could probably use a few days away from the restaurant anyway. Why don’t we look into it and let you know what we come up with?” 
“Yes!” Dixie and Johnny shouted in unison. They high fived each other, then attempted to high five Chichay and Sweaty through the camera, knocking out the connection. 

The next day…

Chichay and Sweaty blasted up the highway through the flat monotony of Oklahoma in a dark blue Mazda convertible. The Mazda satisfied Sweaty’s urge for something flashy, and Chichay’s instinct to not be too noticeable. While Sweaty drove, Chichay flipped through a stack of books they’d picked up at an occult bookstore outside of Sulphur. So far, nothing looked particularly promising, although she did discover a cool spell that turned toll booth operators into marmots. She tossed the book down on the floor and picked up another. 
“Ok,” Chichay said as she started to page through the next book, “It seems like there’re two options. You either break the curse, or you do your own curse and hope it’s more powerful.” 
“Ah, like a countercurse,” said Sweaty. 
“Exactly. And the countercurse, as you call it, can be either the same thing, or can be the opposite thing, as the curse that was put on you.” 
“This all seems really up in the air and not at all certain,” he said. 
“Well, what do you expect? We’re not talking about science, here. At its heart, this is all really just bullshit.” 
“So you don’t actually believe in magic or anything like that?” 
“I don’t know,” Chichay replied, looking up from the book, “On one hand, I tend to only believe the things I can actually see and understand and prove. On the other hand, I’ve seen some shit that just doesn’t make any sense at all. Particularly where my father and his associates were concerned.” 
“You talking about Spotchick?” 
“Yeah, mostly.” 
“That guy’s fucking spooky.” 
“Totally,” She was quiet again for a while. “Actually, he’d probably be the best person to ask about this stuff.” 
“Yeah, if his instinct wasn’t to murder you the second he saw you,” Sweaty reminded her. She sighed. 
“Anyway, I figure if enough people thought to write this stuff down, there must be something to it. Plus, we’re not the ones who are gonna have to boil newts and eat cookies filled with the hair of our enemies, so who cares? Let Dixie and Johnny try it, you know? And in the meantime, I get to take a cool road trip with you.” She reached over and took Sweaty’s hand. He turned to her and smiled, and they drove on in companionable silence. Eventually, Chichay let go of his hand and picked up the book again. 
“So uh,” Sweaty said slowly, “On a related note, what the hell do you think happened to them in witness protection?” 
“Oh god,” Chichay exclaimed, “I have no idea! I mean, knowing them, it could be anything.” 
“I’m dying to know, but also, I really don’t think I want to know? You know?” 
“Yeah, I agree. What did they mean by having too much sex?” Chichay asked. Sweaty shuddered. 
“Never mind, let’s not speculate.” They rode in silence for another few minutes. 
“Uh, also, what was on Johnny’s eye?” 
“Oh, that weird ring?” 
“Yeah.” 
“Do we want to know?”

***

The spaceship took off from the remote planet in the Nchantuke Belt. The area was largely known for farming, and in all seasons, tourists passing through stopped to buy produce and homemade baked goods from small farm stands. As the spaceship began to cruise on autopilot, Dixie and Johnny were in the rear compartment, which served as a combination galley kitchen and lounge area, slaughtering a small goat-like creature that they had just purchased. Johnny stood over the animal, his bare chest sprayed with blood. Dixie balanced a book, with a cover made of skin, on her lap. She held a bottle of rum in one hand and turned the page with the other. 
“Ok Dix, read me the next part,” Johnny said. 
“It says after you cut the animal’s throat, you’re supposed to chant this while it dies: Oba dorgutix pa, oba dorgutix pa, oba dorgutix pa.” 
“I think it’s already dead,” Johnny said. “Should we still chant it?” 
“Eh, I don’t think it matters. Let’s just go to step three,” Dixie turned the page. “Slit the beast from breast to genitals and remove the intestines.” 
“I can do that,” Johnny said, grabbing Dixie’s Pearl handled machete and hacking at the animal. Bits of fur and flesh flew all over the room. A blob landed on Dixie’s face and she wiped it off. Then, inspecting her hand, she cautiously tasted it. 
“Hey, that farmer wasn’t kidding. This sucker actually tastes pretty good, even raw. We should fire up the grill once we’re done with this spell.” 
“Good idea. If we have to kill an animal, we might as well eat it. What’s next?” 
“Arrange the intestines on the floor in the shape of two inverse dodeca quartic curves.” 
“What the fuck is that?” 
“I have no idea.” 
“Is there a diagram?” 
“Um, lemme see…” Dixie flipped through the book. “Nope, nothing.” 
“Ok well I’ll just make ‘em in a star shape I guess. That’s probably close enough.” Johnny got to work dragging the animal’s entrails out and arranging them on the floor. “You’re right, Dix, this beast smells a lot better than I would have expected. You wanna get that grill lit while I finish this? I’m starting to get hungry.” Johnny stood up and looked at Dixie. He wiped his forehead, leaving a huge smear of blood. Dixie walked over to a small grill that was kept in the spaceship’s galley and began turning the knobs. 
“Once you’re done arranging its guts, you’re supposed to draw two circles in blood around them,” she called over her shoulder as the grill flared to life. Johnny nodded and started painting circles. “Do we have any barbecue sauce?” Dixie asked as she poked around in the galley’s tiny refrigerator. 
“We should,” said Johnny. “What’s next?” 
“Oh, hold on, lemme get the book,” Dixie said, walking over to where she’d been sitting and picking up the book. “We have to light that black candle we got, hold hands over the guts, and say the spell.” 
“Sounds good,” Johnny paused. “Should we take a break and eat before we do it?” 
“I don’t see why not,” Dixie replied. With that, they grabbed the rest of the beast and began to get it ready for grilling. 
“We’ll just eat real quick and then get back to this spell,” Johnny said, placing a large chunk of the creature on the grill. 
“What drink do you think goes best with this thing?” Dixie asked, digging through a box of liquor bottles. 
“Maybe the vodka?” 

One hour later…

Dixie and Johnny were sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by bits of charred animal carcass and empty liquor bottles, and covered in blood and various sauces. They were both nodding off when a sound from outside the ship suddenly focused them. 
“What the fuck, are they having another party?” Johnny demanded, getting to his feet and looking out the back window. Sure enough, the entire population of the gypsy caravan seemed to be clinging to the wagon closest to the ship, and somehow they were all singing, dancing, and playing instruments. They, too, had butchered an animal, which was slowly rotating on a spit that was attached to the porch. 
“Ok,” Johnny said, turning back to Dixie, “Let’s get this break up spell done. I’m sick of these club footed dirtballs.” 
“Uh, Johnny,” Dixie said, looking around the room, “I think we might have eaten that entire animal.” 
“Huh?” 
“The intestines are gone.” Indeed, the only thing left was the head. 
“Fuck. I guess we were really hungry, huh?” Johnny said, chuckling. 
“I mean, it was delicious,” Dixie said, “So what do we do now?” 
“Only one thing we can do,” Johnny said, picking up the head of the creature. He walked to the back window again, this time popping it open. He heaved the creature’s head out the window. It landed in the middle of the gypsy party with a thunk and a splat. For a moment the gypsies were silent, staring. Then: 

Sastimos!

They then grabbed the head, gathered around it in a circle, and began to chant and dance so forcefully that they shook the ship. 
“Let’s figure out how to empty the septic tank onto ‘em,” Johnny said. 
“You think that’s gonna break the curse?” 
“Nah, but it’ll feel good to see it.” 

***

Chichay and Sweaty pulled up in front of a modest, split level ranch house in a quiet suburb of Minneapolis. The street was lined with trees, and groups of kids darted in and out of various yards and driveways up and down the block. Sweaty killed the motor and stepped out of the car. Confused, Chichay got out as well. 
“What is this?” she asked. 
“The home of the Great Blue Elder of the Lower Midwest.” 
“This?” 
“Yeah. Why?” 
“I guess I just assumed he lived in a cave, or a cabin in the woods or something,” Chichay said, looking up at the house. 
“I bet you also thought he’d actually be in the lower part of the Midwest, too, though, right?” 
“Well, yeah, now that you mention it, why is he called that if he’s in Minneapolis?” 
“Eh, it’s a long story. I’ll tell ya on the drive back.” He leaned over and kissed her on the top of the head. “I’m gonna head in, I’ll be back in a few.” 
“Wait, I’m not allowed to come?” 
“He’s a little… sensitive? And anyway, we don’t have all day so it’ll be faster if it’s just me in there.” With that, he headed up the walk to the front door and disappeared inside. Chichay sighed and leaned against the car. She watched the kids playing for a while, then went over and asked if she could join the hopscotch game of one of the little girls next door. 

***

“How did it miss them?” Dixie asked, looking out the rear window of the ship. They had just flushed their septic system out, sending a wash of horror toward the gypsies. Somehow, though, every single drop seemed to avoid them. 
“Probably some other curse or spell or something,” Johnny muttered. “Where’s that bullhorn?” 
“Up front in the… place… where we drive?” Dixie shrugged and headed to the liquor box while Johnny went off to find the bullhorn. He returned a few moments later and took up his position by the rear window. 
“What are you going to do?” 
“I figure we’ll try yelling some curses at them,” Johnny said. 
“We don’t know any curses,” Dixie said. 
“They don’t know that. If we try to say ‘em scary enough, I’m sure it’ll work.” Johnny cracked the rear window and stuck the bullhorn out. 
“Hey gypsies!” He screamed. One of them looked over. “May your penis be covered in warts!” The man shrugged, looked down at his crotch and made a quick hand gesture. Then he went back to singing and dancing. 
“What was that?” Johnny asked. 
“It was like he just immediately did some kind of protection spell.” Dixie said. 
“Ok, so we gotta say ‘em faster. You know, so they don’t have time to react. Let’s think of like, four each and then just take turns yelling them.” They both thought for a little while. 
“Ready?” Dixie nodded. 
“One… two… three…” said Johnny. “May you never get drunk again!” 
“May your intestines fill with maggots!” 
“May you lose any money you earn!” 
“May a donkey kick you in the balls!” 
“May you have two beds and a fever in each!” 
“May everything you eat taste like butter!”
“May rodents chew on you every time you sleep!” 
“May you… fall on a... pole and it gets stuck up your ass!” 
“May your ass never stop bleeding!” 
“May… FUCK YOU!” They quickly closed the window and then watched as three or four of the dancing gypsies also shrugged, then went back to their party. 
“Well, maybe those are more like longer term solutions.” 
“Where the hell are Chichay and Sweaty?” 

***

Sweaty left the Great Blue Elder’s house and crossed the lawn to the driveway next door where Chichay was still playing hopscotch with the young neighbor. 
“How’d it go?” She asked, looking up from the game. 
“I don’t know,” Sweaty said. “He wasn’t really making any sense.” 
“What do you mean?” Chichay cast her stone. “Hang on,” she said, as she started hopping. When she returned to the end of the board, Sweaty continued. 
“He just kept talking about bees.” 
“Bees?” 
“Yeah, like ‘the bees are coming,’ ‘watch out for the bees,’ that kind of thing. Then he huffed a can of air freshener and fell asleep.” 
“And you’re saying that’s not normal for him?” 
“Not super normal, no. He’s usually cryptic, but I get it. I mean, bees? Are there even any bees in space?” 
“What are you talking about?” the little girl asked, after she finished hopping. 
“Ah, nothing,” said Sweaty. Chichay turned to the girl. 
“We have to go,” she said, smiling. “Thanks for letting me play. This was really fun.” 
“Thanks for playing,” the girl said, beaming. “Usually no one wants to. Will you come back?” 
“I think we might,” Chichay replied. They started to walk toward the car when Chichay turned back. “Hey, you don’t know how to get rid of a gypsy curse, do you?” The little girl looked thoughtful for a moment. 
“I think you usually just burn your clothes,” she said, and hopped away. 
Back in the car a moment later, Sweaty looked at Chichay with admiration. 
“Good call, asking the kid,” he said. 
“Yeah, but I assume Dixie and Johnny have burned their clothes multiple times since coming across those gypsies,” Chichay said. 
"Yeah that's kinda their thing." 
"So that's out." 

The next day…

Chichay and Sweaty were in a cab cruising through Boston from the airport to Harvard. They had both changed clothes to try to look more academic. Only Chichay really pulled it off. 
“How did you know there was a center for Romani studies at Harvard?” she asked Sweaty. 
“I don’t really remember, actually,” said Sweaty. “You know how stuff just kinda happens to me at various points in my timelines. I assume I was around when it was founded or something. Point is, I remembered, and I got us an appointment.” 
“Well done, Mulligan,” she said. The cab stopped outside of a typical academic building and Chichay and Sweaty headed inside. 

***

“Could we just burn the whole ship?” Johnny mused, still staring out the back window. 
“Yeah, but then how will we get around?” 
“Good point.” 
“And anyway, I don’t think we should have to ruin our own stuff just because these fucking gypsies won’t leave us alone.” 

***

Chichay’s head appeared in the open manhole on a side street in Manhattan. She was flushed and a little grimy as Sweaty reached his hand down to help her up the last few rungs of the ladder and onto the street. As she brushed herself off, he replaced the cover and turned to her. 
“You find her?”
“Yep.” 
“Anything useful?” 
“Kinda. I’ll tell you about it over a slice,” she said as she took his hand and led him down the street toward a pizza shop. 

***

There was a knock on the back hatch of the ship. Dixie and Johnny looked at one another, their eyes narrowed in suspicion. The knock came again, so they reluctantly got up and made their way to the back. 
At the rear window, they could see Vano’s face smiling in at them. Johnny sighed. 
“Now what?” he muttered. 
“Don’t let him in, Johnny. I’m sure they’re trying to take over the ship.” 
“I’ll just open the window.” He did. 
“Heyllo, familia!” Vano exclaimed when Johnny had cracked the window. “You did not join our pachiv, so I am bringing you some hobben.” He held out a cauldron of something that was still bubbling and admittedly didn’t smell that bad. 
“Uh, thanks but we just ate.” 
“Yeah,” Dixie added. “Maybe just leave it on the step there and we’ll… get it later on when we get hungry again.” She reached over and closed the window. Johnny pulled the shade down. 

***

Chichay and Sweaty entered the museum via the front door and paid the admission price. They wandered through the rooms and took in the various exhibits. They had both been to the Voodoo Museum many times before, and they always found it engrossing. 
They entered the rear room and were admiring a gigantic blonde python when the museum’s mysterious proprietor appeared silently behind them. 
“Mr. Mulligan and Ms. Milano. It’s been quite some time,” he said, smiling warmly. They smiled back and the man continued. “Is your visit for business or pleasure this time?” 
“Business, unfortunately,” Sweaty replied. 
“But we should have time for a beignet before we go?” Chichay asked, hopefully. Sweaty smiled and nodded. 
“Well then, let’s step into my office and talk. I’m always happy to help in any way that I can,” the owner said, leading them from the room. 

***

The communication device on the ship’s dashboard buzzed loudly, jolting Dixie and Johnny awake. They each had a moment of confusion before they realized where the sound was coming from, then both lunged toward the device to answer. 
“Hey guys,” Chichay said, as the video came into focus. “Oh man, you guys look… busted. Everything ok?” 
“Well we’ve spent the past month fending off gypsies at every moment, Chichay,” Johnny said, testily, “I’m not sure why you’d think that wouldn’t take a toll.” 
“It’s only been two days.” 
“Whatever,” Dixie snapped. “Time is different here. So what did you find out?” 
“Right,” Sweaty said, picking up a notebook, “here’s what we’ve got. Go get something to write this down on.” Johnny picked up a marker. 
“Not your arms!” Chichay added. Johnny rummaged around in a drawer near the captain’s console and eventually found a few rumpled blank sheets of paper. 
“Ok, so there are two ways to get rid of a curse like this,” Chichay said, reading from the notes in Sweaty’s hand. “You can try to break the curse, or you can cast a different spell or curse that will either cancel out the original or override it.” 
“Like a countercurse,” Sweaty added. 
“Since we don’t actually know what curse you guys were cursed with, we focused on alternative curses that you could do, and we came up with three. You ready?” 
“God this is taking forever,” Dixie muttered. 
“What?” 
“Nothing. Yes we’re ready, tell us.” 
“Ok first is the poisonous mandrake. You get a poisonous mandrake and hurl it at the person you want to curse. This is pretty powerful because it basically wrecks the life of the person you hit, plus the lives of what’s called their subordinates. For that reason, you’d want to hit the gypsy queen to make sure all ties are severed with her whole family.” 
“The downside,” added Sweaty, “Is that where you’re at, there’s only one place to get a mandrake.” 
“Right, unless you’re planning on coming back to Earth, the only place you can get them is the dark side of Zot.” 
“Sounds easy enough,” Johnny said, “We’ll head over there now. Thanks, guys!” He reached over to click off the communicator. 
“Wait!” Chichay yelled. “We have two other things for you to try. You might as well get all of them so you don’t have to call us back.” 
“Fine,” Dixie sighed. She cracked a beer. Chichay continued.
“Next is a frog spawn. You take a frog spawn and toss it over your right shoulder - toward the caravan, ok, that’s important - and as you do this you repeat the word ‘pogger’ three times.” 
“What’s this one do?” Dixie asked. 
“It should sever any bonds that you have with undesirable species,” Sweaty said, “which means you’re each gonna have to do it. So make sure you get two frog spawns, ok?” 
“Also, one possible complication with this one,” Chichay added. “This technique is really similar to one that the Acadians use to get rid of warts.” 
“Uh huh,” said Johnny, rolling his eyes. 
“Look, we warned you that this wasn’t going to be easy.” 
“I know, I know,” said Johnny. “Did you say there were three?” 
“Yep, one more. It’s a little more involved, so bear with me here. It’s a standard counter hex designed to break pretty much any curse or spell that might have been put on you,” Chichay said, turning the page in the notebook. “Ok, first you need a black chicken.” 
“It has to be black?” Dixie asked. 
“Yes.” 
“Why?” 
“Dixie, come on,” Sweaty said. Chichay continued. 
“You’re gonna swing it clockwise around each other, head to toe, nine times for each of you. Then leave the chicken in the street and walk away. Don’t look back.” 
“So we’re gonna have to land somewhere,” Johnny said to Dixie. She nodded. 
“Next, take a lemon and roll it in some chili powder. You both have to get pretty far away from it then, probably standing on opposite sides of it.” 
“We just leave it on the ground?” 
“Yep. And then you’re gonna chant ‘KATHKATHA JAGAMA KATHAS’ ninety-nine times each. You can do it together, you don’t need to take turns.” 
“What’s that mean?” 
“Doesn’t matter,” Sweaty said. 
“After you do that, you throw the lemon as far away from you as you can.” Chichay paused. No one said anything for a moment. 
“That’s it?” Johnny asked. 
“Yeah, our guy says you should start feeling better within an hour,” Sweaty said. 
“So anyway, let us know how it goes,” Chichay said. It had just gotten quite loud where she and Sweaty were, and she looked eager to hang up. 
“Where are you guys?” 
“Nola,” Sweaty said. 
“Parade’s here,” Chichay added, standing up, “Gotta go!” She switched off the communicator. 

***

Chichay and Sweaty were lounging by a pool, drinking frozen hurricanes in styrofoam to-go cups, when the communicator buzzed. Sweaty switched it on. 
“Hey guys,” he said. “How’d it go?” The video came into focus. Dixie and Johnny looked wretched. 
“We tried all those things and none of ‘em worked,” Johnny complained tiredly. 
“Really?” Chichay asked. “I thought for sure one of them would have worked.” 
“Well, we think the mandrake thing would have worked,” Dixie said. “But when we stopped at Zot to get one, the gypsies bought one, too. Their spell must have cancelled ours out.” Everyone was quiet for a while, with only the sound of Sweaty slurping his drink through the straw to break the silence. Finally, Chichay spoke. 
“Ok, I only have one other idea of who to ask,” she said slowly. Sweaty looked at her with raised eyebrows. 
“You aren’t serious,” he said. She nodded. “Chich, it’s not worth the risk!” 
“Look,” Johnny said, “Whatever drama you guys are talking about, just figure it out and tell us because we’re dying out here.” 
“Yeah, yesterday I found myself enjoying the song they were playing!” 

***

Chichay stood at a payphone on Bourbon Street. A drunk college kid was puking loudly to her right, and a street musician was tuning his trombone to her left. Sweaty paced nervously behind her. 
“This is Chichay Milano,” she said into the receiver, “Tell the Vulture that I want a parley.”

***

A small trawler chugged into Bahía de la Habana. Chichay Milano and Sweaty Mulligan stood on the bridge with the captain. Chichay looked calm and collected. Sweaty looked like a nervous wreck. 
After they had docked, Chichay paid a cab driver the equivalent of a year’s worth of wages in order to use his car for the day. He smiled and went off to get drunk, and she and Sweaty made their way up into the mountains, following the instructions they had received the day before. 
They arrived at a walled compound and were greeted by a fierce guerrilla guard who manned a small booth. He wore more weapons than most soldiers during active combat. 
“I’m here to speak with the Vulture,” Chichay said. The guard raised one of his weapons. 
“¿Tu nombre?” he asked. 
“Chichay Milano,” she replied. Immediately his hand went to a knife at his belt. “This is a parley,” she added. “Incrementar.” The guard nodded and whispered something into a small radio on his collar. After a moment, he stepped out of the booth and motioned for them to walk through the gate. Once they did, he walked behind them, a gun trained on each of their backs, and guided them toward the main house. 
Inside the house, which could only be described as fabulous, they were shown to an ornate sitting room and told to sit on the couch. A number of armed guards stood around the room, keeping their eyes and weapons trained on them. Finally, Clobber Spotchick entered. 
He wore a fine silk dressing gown with nothing underneath it. His hair had gotten long. It was still thick and full, but he had stopped coloring it. A small dog followed him and sat quietly just inside the doorway. 
“Well well well,” he said, looking Chichay up and down with amusement. “Imagine my surprise when I heard, not only that you’d reached out, but that you wanted a parley!” He giggled. It was high pitched and irritating. 
“Listen, Clobber, I need some info and you’re the only one who has it.” As she said this, he looked icily at her and took a seat in a plush chair across from her. 
“And what makes you think I’ll honor your parley?” he asked. 
“Well, because it’s a formal regulation,” she said, “And I know you aren’t about to lose your standing over something as stupid as a simple reg violation.” They were silent for a moment as Clobber Spotchick stuck out his jaw in a sulk. He knew she was right. 
“Also,” Chichay continued, taking a deep breath, “Isn’t it time we put all this bullshit to rest? It’s been close to a decade, and it never had anything to do with you and me directly. It was always about my father and you know it.” Clobber’s defiant stance lasted a beat longer before he crumpled into a heap of sobs, his face in his hands. 
“I know!” he wailed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, or why I’ve been doing this to you all these years!” He looked up at her through tears. Chichay was taken aback. This wasn’t how she saw the conversation going. She didn’t move to comfort him because she still wasn’t sure that it wasn’t a trick. Beside her, Sweaty Mulligan looked from one to the other, stunned and confused. 
“Look,” Clobber said, drawing a long, shaky breath, “I’m getting older and I don’t know how much longer I’m going to have in this world. I came here to keep myself out of trouble, and I’m going to extend that to you. From now on, all beef between you and I, and any that you took on after your father passed, it’s all cancelled. I hope you’ll forgive me, Chichay.” He started to cry again. “I loved him so much,” he said quietly. Chichay let him go for a minute before speaking again. 
“Clobber, I really appreciate that. I’ve been hoping that we would get to this place someday.” She smiled, and he smiled back. 
“That’s not why you came here, is it?” he asked. 
“Not exactly, no.” 

***

An hour later, Chichay and Sweaty were in the back seat of a jeep with an armed guard. Clobber sat in the front passenger seat with another armed guard driving. They made their way deeper and deeper into the mountainous jungle. 

That evening, as the sun was setting, Chichay, Sweaty, and the two guards made their way down out of the jungle and toward the harbor. Clobber had opted to remain with the Brujería. 

***

The communicator buzzed. Johnny answered it. 
“Where the hell have you guys been?” he demanded. 
“Ok first of all, it’s only been forty-eight hours. Secondly, it’s been a weird fucking forty-eight hours, so I’ll thank you to keep your indignant outbursts to yourselves,” Chichay snapped. 
“Jeez…” Dixie said. 
“Sorry, Chich.” 
“That’s ok,” she said. “Now listen, I have one more thing for you to try. I’m pretty sure this is going to work, so listen really carefully because this is all I’ve got.” 

***

Dixie and Johnny cautiously approached the caravan, which was parked behind them in a type of supercenter parking lot. They were quite far away from the actual store, but they were still drawing stares from motorists as they pulled in and out of the parking lot on their way to buy bulk items and knock off pizza rolls. Dixie carried a sparkly party bag in one hand. Johnny had a bottle of Scotch. 
As they approached the lead caravan, a few of the gypsies paused what they were doing and turned to look at them. Dixie suppressed a shudder while Johnny put on his best fake smile and gave a little wave. They stopped at the foot of the little porch. One of the gypsies turned and called into the wagon, and a moment later, Vano emerged. 
“Heyllo familia!” he said cheerfully. 
“Hi,” said Dixie. 
“Hi Vano,” Johnny said, stepping forward and handing him the Scotch. “Listen, Dix and I were talking, and we think we got off on the wrong foot earlier.” 
“Yeah,” said Dixie. “I guess we were just so shocked to see you back here that we…” 
“Reacted badly,” Johnny finished. “So we want to apologize, and thank you for making us part of your familia. Please, take this bottle of Scotch as both an apology and a thank you.” 
“Oh! Moras! Familia!” Vano exclaimed. “This is such wonderful news. Our whole vitsa will be so happy to know that you are willing to join us! Wait here, I’ll call them all and we will celebrate!” 
“Wait a sec, Vano!” Johnny called as he started to step away. “We actually felt so bad about how we behaved that we thought we should give an apology gift to the head of your… vitsa. Is the Queen here?” 
“Why yes,” Vano said, his eyes filling with tears, “She is and she will be overwhelmed by your generosity! I’ll bring her here at once.” He turned and moved toward the second wagon in the caravan. Johnny turned to Dixie. 
“Ok this is it,” he whispered. “You want me to make the hand off?” 
“Yeah, you better. I still don’t want to touch any of them.” Dixie handed Johnny the bag. As he held it, it twitched a little and the brightly colored tissue paper rustled. 
A moment later the gypsy queen appeared, clinging to Vano’s arm. She appeared to be both young and shockingly old, beautiful and hideous. She wore colorful rags, but more jewels than Dixie and Johnny had ever seen. For a moment, Dixie rethought her desire not to touch the gypsies. The queen came to a stop before Dixie and Johnny, and as rehearsed, they both dropped to their knees. 
“Your Majesty,” Johnny said, bowing his head, “We wish to thank you for inviting us into your vitsa. To show our appreciation, we have brought you this gift.” He lifted the gift bag and the queen reached out and took it, her eyes shining with greed. She then nodded her head and Dixie and Johnny stood. 
The queen immediately took the items out of the bag, tossing the tissue paper to the ground. Inside the bag was a small snake and an orange. She held both in her hands, letting the bag fall to the ground, and gave out a low growl. 
“Budjo!” she said, angrily. Almost immediately, Dixie and Johnny felt a sense of relief, and at the same time, it seemed as if the gypsy caravan had come untethered from their ship. Vano looked confused. 
“What? What is happening?” he asked. The queen turned to him. 
“The armaya is broken.” She then looked at Dixie and Johnny with a fury they were not expecting, and for a moment they feared the worst. But in the next instant, the queen calmly took hold of the snake that they had given her, lifted it to her mouth, and swallowed it whole. Everyone gasped. Calmly, the queen then proceeded to peel the orange and hold the fruit in her hand as if it were a crystal ball. Her eyes crossed, and in a deep guttural voice, she moaned: 
“This is the end. The bees. The circle will be broken.” 
“What the fuck does that mean?” Dixie whispered. Johnny shrugged, but they both took a step backward, just in case. As they were about to turn and head toward their ship, the queen’s eyes popped open suddenly and she began to tremble. She looked terrified. 
“Your majesty,” Vano said, taking her hand, “What is it? What did you see?” 
“We must get as far away from these two as possible,” she whispered. “No good will come to us as long as they are here.” 
“But-” Vano started to say, but the queen slapped his cheek. He looked apologetically at Dixie and Johnny, but turned dutifully and escorted the queen back to her wagon, calling instructions to the others as he went. 

***

The shifty and eccentric Johnny Go and his beautiful and psychotic sidekick Dixie Doublestacks watched as the gypsy caravan that had plagued them for weeks beat a hasty retreat from the supercenter parking lot. They were surprised to see that the entire caravan could fly on its own. 
“What the fuck was that all about?” Johnny asked as they made their way toward their ship. “Did we just get cursed again?” 
“Hard to tell,” replied Dixie, “but we better burn our clothes just to be safe.” 
A moment later, a naked Dixie and Johnny scrambled into their ship as the flames from a pile of their clothing burned brightly in the supercenter parking lot.