Jig and Wedge took a break from contract killing for a while, and decided to join the Botherhood. The Botherhood was an infamous organization of legbreakers-for-hire. That is, they were hired to “bother” people–into paying money for something, usually. They also wore Winnie the Pooh character masks. Winston, the leader of the outfit and a bear of a man, thought it was funny.
Jig took the opportunity to say “Oh bother” as much as possible. She had a pooh-bear mask. Wedge wore a Piglet mask with a hole cut into the mouth so he could smoke.
“Check it out,” said Jig on the drive. She held up her new phone and waved it so the image on the screen turned like a 3D landscape. “Top of the line,” she said. She was wearing her mask even though they hadn’t reached their destination yet.
Wedge wasn’t wearing a mask, and he was driving. He hummed as if to say, “That’s sure something.”
“You’re jealous, old boy, admit it,” said Jig. Her voice was muffled by the mask.
Wedge didn’t admit to anything. He kept his eyes on the road, and puffed away on his cig. It was almost down to the filter, so he flicked it out the window and lit another.
“I bet Winston hates us,” said Jig, playing with her phone, which she held up awkwardly to the eye-holes in her mask.
Wedge vocalized a question mark. He was good at that.
“I mean, I’m wearing his mask. Not the same mask, obviously, but a Winnie mask. I bet he can bearly stand it.”
The pun washed over Wedge’s head.
“I guess there are only so many characters. But then there’s you. You’re a pig. Piglet pig. Winston hates pigs. Just don’t wear blue and eat doughnuts, old chap.”
They had arrived. Wedge parked across from the big house. Grudgingly, he put on his Piglet mask.
“Oh hush, little piggie,” said Jig. “You won’t be the one squealing tonight.”
They exited the car and opened the trunk.
“Just promise me the masks won’t be necessary after we take Winston out,” said Wedge, smoke seeping from the little hole in the pig mask.
“Can’t promise that, hunny,” said Jig, removing a shotgun from the trunk. “I like his mask better, and I won’t put it to waste. Besides, I’m going to be taking mad selfies with this new phone, and we wouldn’t want our real faces in there, would we?”
Wedge shook his pink head, pulling out his own shotgun and shutting the trunk.
“You’re such a bother,” he said.
Today’s three prompt categories were, “Chainsmoking,” “The Botherhood,” and, “The latest, greatest phone.”
“The Botherhood” was a recent typo I found in a story I’m editing. I loved it, and I’m happy it was a typo because I wanted it.