This is an edited and expanded version of a short story I had written for a competition some months ago. Hope you, the reader, enjoy every word written. I worked hard on it. 

"Matchet, a wah gwaan, dawg?!" Rue hit him with his customarily informal greeting to his best friend. The center of his eyeballs was blackened and kept sight of Matchet's figure on his pocket watch. Since childhood they were together; almost inseparable. 

"I normal. I normal. I hear you move into Wetman Lengths." He heard of the big-time purchase he made in the newest, most exclusive neighbourhood in the country. Matchet was in the waiting lounge of his private office. He sunk into his purple satin couch near the entrance, relaxing and chatting, wasting time until his appointed visitor came through the door.

"Yeah, dawg when you go come over?" Rue was eager to show off to his friend. It was his dream to be rich - a simple and noble one not only for himself but what everyone wanted.

"I can't right now. A kitsune made an appointment for me to blight somebody." Matchet was styled in a brown suit, similar to his skin, pupils and curly hair. There were braided fringes along the edges with coloured beads placed into them. This meant that he made a clanking sound whenever he moved; a sound that irritated his receptionist, Ainatona, at the counter. But to his luck, she had to leave early to attend to some urgent family stuff. 

"Stop that. You have to see how stush the house be boi. It real best." He came at him rather coercive. He really wanted him to come over. 

"I coming. I coming. Don't hurt your head." He put the call on hold, freezing the tiny representation of Rue's hybrid werewolf body and clapped it shut.

"Come now miss. Who you wanna blight today?" He asked the fox Miss Saiarura who to curse. Her thick, silky, snow-white fur encompassed her entirety. And her three tails, with the tips magnificent with dashes of silver glitter on them, gleaming in the light. 

"Sir Douchet." Her tone was a malevolent one.

"He does make real good pizza, stuffed pie and cake and..." The hunger sector of his brain activated. All the wonderful pastries and snacks filled his conscience. His favourite was sausage rolls, so that took up most of the space.

"Don't tell me what I already know,"  Matchet broke out of his conscience with the first syllable. His foodlogged brain vanished instantly. It returned to normal. "You have to deal with my competition." She was annoyed at him.  Saiarura could tell he was fantasizing over his competition, but he was the best she could afford. Her business wasn't doing well in the face of new competition.

"Cool. I see you bring a cupcake for me." He took it from her and placed it the table in his office, one comprised of oak with a smooth surface and held up by a large, central leg with a wide base. She was opposite to Matchet, and surrounding them were dreamcatchers, animals prints on padded chairs, an antique clock and other embellishments. His fingers wiggled, manipulating powerful forces. The lights flickered rapidly as the purple icing and the blue cake underneath morphed to black and grey. The black icing then caught flames as the blight casting came to a finale.

"Nice doing business with you." She said. "The payment go come in a cheque."

"No problem."

He knew that he performed a half-hearted material curse on Saiarura's rival in the baking scene, Sir Douchet, a velociraptor—knowing that he most likely has a counter-curse that's only activated when they collide on the magical plane; or a deflection or neutralization spell or a bunch of other stuff the author doesn't want to describe because he's too lazy and there's a word limit. 

WORD COUNT: 646 WORDS. 

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