Night Owls

Jerry glanced down at the photograph in his hand, then back up again at the woman sitting alone at the back of the cafe.

Holy cow turds. It’s my dead mother come back to make me eat my vegetables. I’ll show her. I’ll eat these Brusselsprouts.

All at once a blinding light coursed through the space. Jerry and the woman froze. And then a creature appeared, seemingly from the air itself.

It was pegasus. His effeminate flying horse. He had a wood the size of a small carrot and was willing to use it.